Negril

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
betray me.
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.

rainbow beach

Liliana Gigovic

We had wings

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.

 

 

to get to you

House of Heart

In this dream  my arms
are the branches of trees
and you are my  nourishment.
Cut me down to a boat.
My  spine a sturdy keel,
my hair  the unfurled sails.
A lighthouse is my only lamp
for the stars are captive
in your hand.  
If the sea does not capitulate, 
red sails   cast into a cleft 
too wide  for me to cross,
I was trying to get to you.

 

Art from Getty

 

 

 

 

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Red Dawn

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.

Blasphemy

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.

Dove Mouth

Art by Rita Hardy

wheat fields rolling

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.
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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