Like a Butterfly

A heart can fall like a suicide 
descending shades of midnight
frozen blossoms on an icy lake
a silent  breeze of despair

Let my tongue flirt like 
a butterfly among  wildflowers
 rather than polish scars 
de-bride old wounds 

Interlude

In this dream I turn to you and

light my cigarette from the glowing

tip of yours.

I propose we fly away.

Your dark eyes whip my mind

into arousal and your elegant hand

on my thigh turns me soft inside.

Your breathing is a sigh against

my ear that whispers my hair

and crimson lips so near devours

your resistance.

Against waves of joy and sadness

dreams are always what it could

be like.

Suddenly hares chase foxes

and Roebucks hunt hunters and

to shield me from the terror you

hold me within bleak arms.

Babylon Premium

Of Liebe and Krieg

Your winter coat lies where we once lay on the bed of a decaying forest
the silence is as hard as pounding hooves or soft as the moon rising
in your kingdom of stars.

Gurkski’s ” Il me faut t’abandonne”

“Come dusk is when my mind walks out

from where I fence myself in,

my dark room of nightly delights where

I encounter her, my queen of all things blue

and we fight right from the start

To make me love her even more.

I place the hands of my heart to gather

my hunting spirit, follow her footprints

into our forests of love and war.”

( excerpt)

Von Liebe und Krieg — Of love and war
Translation to German by Bernd @ Neues Vom Hutschi

NICHT BEREIT DAFÜR REISE ICH,
UM ZU ÜBERLEBEN,
DURCH ERINNERUNGEN, DIE SICH EINFINDEN,
OHNE EINKLANG.
DA LIEGT DEIN WINTERMANTEL,
WO EINST UNSERE RÜCKEN WAREN,
HALB BEGRABEN IM FALLENDEN SCHNEE,
JETZT VERROTTEN SIE ZWISCHEN ZAPFEN UND NADELN.
DER WALDBODEN RIECHT NACH BRENNENDER KIEFER
UND STILLE IST WIE DER KLANG STAMPFENDER
HUFE ODER SANFT WIE DER ZUNEHMENDE MOND
IN DEINEM REICH DER STERNE.
AUSZUG AUS GURKSKIS „IL ME FAUT T’ABANDONNE“
„KOMM, DÄMMERUNG IST, WENN MEINE GEDANKEN FORTWANDERN,
VON DA, WO ICH MICH EINZÄUNE,
MEIN DUNKLER RAUM NÄCHTLICHER FREUDEN, WO
ICH IHR BEGEGNE, MEINER KÖNIGIN ALLER BLAUEN DINGE,
UND WIR KÄMPFEN VON ANBEGINN,
DASS ICH SIE NOCH MEHR LIEBE.
ICH NEHME DIE HÄNDE MEINES HERZENS
EINZUFANGEN MEIN JAGENDES WESEN, FOLGE IHREN SPUREN
IN UNSERE WÄLDER AUS LIEBE UND KRIEG.“

milieu

You want her to be real
A half smile curve of lips
a glide of a hand through hair
You want to be her clothes
falling as she unfolds to the
sound of heels on a marble floor
her feet have formed the shape of her
shoes and when she arches her back
she soars as high as imagined
wings can fly.

art by Luigi Quarti “fallen angel”

Storms

I am touched
by a storm
the tongue of a
fire that burns
away sleep.
A tide crashing
into millions of
crystal droplets
becoming the sun.
My heart is ripe
like summer fruit
sweet juices flushing
tingling veins.
There is a storm circling
the pit of my stomach rising
to ache in my throat.

Steve Hanks art

Poetry and Tea Roses

I will always disappoint you

my verse is no where near roses

pigment stained and tear smudged

overflowing with sudden downpours

a spiraling monsoon that can

not be held back with the tenderest

of sighs.

I tell lies lovingly

each line a litany of devotion

or a buzzed serendipity.

I will fall in love with the sleeved

heart of every poet.

Save me from obscurity, give me a purpose

sugary rose petals or the embryo

of a pearl washed ashore.

For Pablo

When I found  you

I was not searching

beautiful and wild

our lids heavy with desire

we sipped Santiago raindrops

from our cupped tongues.

Tears of salt-rose fell from my eyes

at the hour of your departure and

my heart became a  dying bird

it’s wings unfastened and open.

 

Night on the Island

by Pablo Neruda

I have slept with you
and on waking, your mouth,
come from your dream,
gave me the taste of earth,
of sea water, of seaweed,
of the depths of your life,
and I received your kiss
moistened by the dawn
as if it came to me
from the sea that surrounds us.

 

Night Music

Losing June

By morning I have renamed us 
when I speak a thousand thrumming
 wings escape my throat 
those crimson wounds you have 
christened with your hands
a forgiveness I can believe in

I've etched your voice in memory
so not to forget the glossy sound
of humming wings when you speak
Your eyes orbit above me
brilliant satellites so that I
may dream free of shadows.

I've pared us down forgotten what  I knew of love and when I try to speak  a thousand wings catch at the cache of my throat.   

 

Night Music

 

 

 

 

Estuary of Flowers

I step back from the light
into the dark

my wife rocks
herself to sleep
in my favorite chair.

 

On the beach

I want to fly but fall like

a silent prayer.

My limbs are an anchor

as I slip beneath the surface.

Once struggling palms lie flat

as gentle waves rock me.

Seaweed strands of hair mingle

with the sigh of my breath,

I grasp the hands of my

companions,

my only thing of value.

Everything beautiful is here,

all that was lost.

Birds chorus to the stones that

mark the  resting place of a

thousand warriors   in an

estuary of flowers.

art by Abel Tasman

 

 

whir of days

Come the days when we

reach back into seas of

pinpoint diamonds where like

globes of fire we spun through

glimmering heavens yielding

only to the pull of hearts.

Now the dew falls from our eyes

Not from  the sky, the tide pulls

outward and mountains lose

their foothold but a new sun

is rising and we are touched by

the tongue of deepening wisdom

and   burning indignation.