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.
minute as a wish on a star
Did you run through blowing
wheat fields your yellow hair flying
those secrets of the heart
give them to me
When you fall I form a scar
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.”
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
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.
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.
Photograph by Heart
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.
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
It is too soon
to prune but wilted petals
wave provocatively from a
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