The whorl of summer
lifts the hem of her skirt
of crimson and gold.
She festoons the earth
with unfastening coils
tight throated corollas
raw bursting blisters.
Warring birds swoop up
new born buds
unwilling to wait for
Winters red meat.
This is a day of sun kissed stone and blustery winds
of wild geese adorning river banks
their graceful necks and gilded feathers remind
me that I am nothing more than a bystander
in this enchanted world where graceful oaks
reach across slanted waves to weightless clouds
dipping my fingers into green and amber circlets
I hold my reflection in cupped hands.
My words are
flames meant to melt the
frozen chalice that is your heart.
In the white night across the continents
we feel but never touch.
Too sacred for light we set the night on fire
Profane infinity too flawed to alter fate.
While I was thinking of you a fledgling
fell to earth
swooped up by the wind on her
passage to life
während ich an dich dachte
Manchmal fühle ich meine Worte
als lodernde Flamme, die schmilzt den Kelch deines goldenen Herzens. Geborgenheit liegt in der Stille, wenn wir die Kontinente durchqueren. Wir fühlen uns, doch berühren uns nicht, lassen den Mond uns verschlingen, setzen die Nacht in Brand, zu heilig fürs Licht. In deiner Gegenwart bin ich weltlich am heiligen Himmel, eine Blasphemie aus Fehlern, zu gering, das Schicksal zu ändern. Während ich an dich dachte, fiel ein junger Vogel nieder auf die Erde, Wind rettete ihn auf dem Weg ins Leben.
(Deutsch von Hutschi)
From the window
as quiet as as a river I can watch
the moon shiver in the breeze
through the fronds of palm trees.
Hibiscus wave like children
their mouths move silently,
hands of garland reach out to
I am grateful for the sweet
drape of your eyes that like
fluttering wings of birds lift
the shawl of darkness where in
the light prismatic butterflies
breach their chrysalis and
vanish in the arching sky.
These are the riches
the golden sunlight passing through us.
I am a constellation
pasted to a smear of deep sky or some god spun leaf drifting a wintry blue pond or a
flame living in fire.
My tongue turns silvery around my words, do not take them for sorrow I have named them peace.
Do not forget me.
I still need you to carry me over the pierce of thorns for My hands are good for nothing
but a plea do not forget me
I am still here my hair a tangle of stars.
She no longer recalls or feels
Freedom is not a concept
The curve of her back is wired
with filament and straw fills
the space that held a heart
Constructed for crows her limbs
are stripped of flesh
her pupils fixed in the dark.
Her lips are strung with suffering
she no longer speaks because
there are no words that
cut deep enough.
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
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.
When I miss you
I become so small my body
could fit into the heart of a
sea bird begging salt with
its pulpy tongue. The scent of
sandalwood remains in a discarded
shirt tossed over a bed post where
I return and return.
The clouds unravel and tears rain
down in shades of eventide.
Keep me close in your heart like
the beating of a rhythmic railway
traveling snow covered alps
or the black tar of far off foothills.
Wide walls of
water tumble into deep pools
spilling over slippery quartz.
Grasping at jagged edges
She steps onto the mossy sludge,
sinks into soggy pockets of
Slender fingers grab at veiny
pulleys of the forest yet when
She reaches they resist.
The water is screaming indignation,
a fury thrashing upon stone,
Penance for thwarting
it’s downward path and there is
no way to console them.
Retribution is why She comes here,
a pounding retaliation,
the sting of needles on her back
stones soothed by wrath.
Waiting for you became a ritual,
listening for the sound of your footsteps
in the pounding rain.
The taste of salt still remains
upon my lips where you left it
and in dreams you are evoked
by the wings of seabirds where I have
pressed our memory.
At daybreak the tide retreats without
leaving you at my shore and it is
there I accept loss.
At the hollow of my throat I have etched
your name somehow declaring us sacred.