In the hushed silence between waves
sighs fill the night as stars come alive
and the breeze is a soft poem.
Nude in the moon light but for drifting
shadows the swirl in your glass keeps
perfect time with far off thunder.
I need to look away from your gun powder eyes
that lethal shot
before the fluttering of a thousand butterflies
I breathe in the circlets of your cigarette and
the honey sweet scent of willing hostages.
As fragile as fireflies we escape to the madness of
our minds where all we have to do is live.
Then, wisdom grew from fruit
and time was a seedling.
All creatures spoke the same,
hymns of bats, the breath of horses.
We were winged and freedom
was etched on the soles of our feet.
Pathways in the earth and sky were
known not charted.
We step naked into the blazing sun
bare ourselves to golden rivers and
awesome tidal thunder.
Dali and The Garden of Eden
art by José Roosevelt, a Brazilian Surrealist, illustrator/painter.
At night we entwine
interlacing tendrils weaving
bodies stretching, limbs
reaching, giving way, every ripple
replicated in the amber sand.
Nights are as sweet as dew drops
on a rose and each breath is a vow.
A silent Oracle I inscribe Arabesque
across the grain of your skin
so that when you wake
you will remember.
Browsing through souvenirs
I am reminded of you.
The door to the past swings open
releasing sleek eels of memories
where I am nothing or at best
a trembling leaf lost on a autumn breeze.
Do you ever think of me?
See me in constellations pressed against the sky,
hear me in the surge of the tide?
I would seek comfort in the moon but I am
so trivial and he is taken by the stars.
In dreams my tongue is a crimson snake
Hungrily flicking the skin of your thigh
curling around the catch in my throat.
He is god and has named me regret.
I close our door with pried fingers.
I’ve given up on prayer hands.
Art by Rita Hardy
give me your story
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
I am swallowed up longing
When you fall I form a scar
read to me of love and life
those petals closing in the dark
stay lest I fade away.
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.