the twilight hours

I feel you in the pouring rain

violent or soft as a breeze.

A distant star you fade into

the night from which you came.

Wounded hearts are slow to heal

but I have become indifferent to pain.

Sweet gardenias fill my rooms with mortality

decaying petals soaked in secrets

rhapsodize my dreams with the zephyr of your sigh.

We are a wasteland, all poetic breath died with us.

I long for the scent of earth infused with deep roots,

the soothing sounds of swaying wind chimes clinging

to the limb of a live oak,

soothing sounds for the twilight hours.

of love and war

To survive  I follow our

paths from the past  that

summon without consent.

There lies your winter coat

where we once lay,

buried below  decaying needles

of a forest floor that smells of pine.

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)

a thousand years

Cover the sky with your hand.

The summit of your palm is the moon.

Your fingers are  streams of stardust

sweeping through an  ancient dune

or  the slender branches of forked trees.

Glide them across the  desert,

over valleys,  the soft and sediment.

I am every woman you have loved,

their dynamic wings beat in me.

Recall my eyes as history,

you have lived here a thousand years.

 

art by Louis Treserras

Man

You are perplexing.

When my eye lids close your aura lingers.

I pretend to understand but I have yet to unravel the enigma.

Your soft growl grips my emotions, holds me tender with soft pads

or still with the urgent press of teeth at my throat.

What I know of you I’ve learned through osmosis

those flickers of sentiment deep as roots.

My instincts send out a warning but with you so near it is too late.

One thing I know for certain you are skilled at breaking and entering.

tigres-bebe

The life cycle of a rose

On a thorny stalk

wrapped in veiny leaves

heavy with the burden

of viscous dew

for the  love of light her

corolla lifts upright

a broad faced still life

anchored to the earth

she tracks the sun across

an unpredictable sky.

At dusk she combs the air

with sweetness retreating 

at twilight into

pearly pools of the moon.

 

 

RosePink

Photograph by Heart

A sole dove

Deeper than the Mariana Trench
more rare than a conch pearl,
The finest cognac glowing in baroque,
Belle lettrés from the crest of a tree.

 

In my periphery I see you.
My breathing stops to listen
for sounds of our existence.
 

A sole dove swoops into
the crown of a tree
quiescent in a forked bough.
The cardinals fly in,
a brilliant male  and his drab mate,
nature’s biased humor.
Captivated  by his beauty
she watches him fly away.
Without the will to fly alone, the lone dove lingers.

 

The Letter

I left a message for you in a book.
It is like me to mark provocative phrases,
to shake them out in ponderous verses.
Do not read too much in the fallout,
the notes in the border are for nostalgia’s sake.
I dreamt of you  last night My adversary
Your aura I barely recall.
the suffering is in  knowing what is real

papers.co-aw53-yanjun-cheng-girl-green-sexy-illustration-art-paint-4-wallpaper-260x460

Narcissus

It is too soon
to prune but wilted petals

wave provocatively from a
bowing trellis

among the bent stems the sun is pleasing to bare shoulders.

Pulpy worms are sweet to scavenging tongues of hungry birds

plucked without warning from spidery veins of leaves

Elongated roots relentlessly war with nicked and bleeding fingers

I know it it is too early but chaotic gardens long for control
once again.

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