Winter mists the window panes
with veiny tributaries that trickle
to the sill with a warm touch.
The trajectory of time trails run off
down the mountain side an affirmation
of spring the honey-sweet deceit of
Remain here until the birds sing
our disparity, till reality overshadows
dreams and tears and dew drops blend.
Then we will part.
Art by Rae Williams at Pinterest
The vibrancy of peony
lush curls of gardenia
the brush of nurture
on birds of paradise
tempests of wildflowers
scattered across a meadow
tame the feral garden
she blooms for you
art by Ronnie Piccard
I light my cigarette and turn to you
Within this dream I propose we fly away
Your eyes so dark
whip my mind into arousal and your
rough hand on my thigh turns me
soft inside and everywhere
You whisper that my hair so near
and my my full crimson lips devour you
Against waves of joy and sadness dreams are
always what it could be like
Suddenly hares chase foxes and Roebuck’s
hunt hunters and I bury my face in your
chest and to shield me from the terror you hold me within bleak arms
and we fly away.
art by Babylon Premium
“Love is a journey through waters and stars, through suffocating air, sharp tempests of grain:
Love is a war of lightning, two bodies ruined by a single sweetness” Pablo Neruda
Between wake and sleep I feel the brush of your hand as cold as winters breath. I thought I glimpsed you in lightning strokes through my window, heard your steps come and go down halls still echoing departure as night slips away the mist of yesterday receding over the lake of time.
So that you may see what is left of me I’ve etched your eyes to mine.
Dismembered by scythes of devastation we scatter like autumn leaves.
You go where gravity pulls you, disappear through shimmering veils or wind
down my cheek like teardrops settling in the hollow of my throat, conscious
fingers of stars gliding over hoarfrost fields or weeping willows sweeping an ice capped pond.
art by Brad Kunkle
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.
From my swing
I spot the Monarch
sipping from a nectary,
gently I snare him
by his dew drenched wings.
I wonder if he knows
his fate lies in my hands.
Clutched between my fingers
imagine how his heart pounds.
I will indulge the unconventional.
On a mossy hill behind a mock castle
we will read Aristophanes to harems
of nymphs as they strum their Lyre for you.
While you transform words into wings
flitting the hearts of lovers I will
contemplate the perfect angle of your face,
breathe the amber resin of pine that
permeates our senses and in the unruffled
pools of your eyes I will die just a little.
Communing with birds
I open my empty palm
expecting metaphors to light
like fireflies on my life line.
When I close my eyes
I can see the river Delta,
sweet green tarpaulin stretched
across the hemisphere and those
deep murky waters reflecting the
Fleeting memories disperse like clouds.
Just before sleep I sink deep
into illusory havens hoping to
escape the boredom of life.
Metaphor and Allegory by Ju-Yu Chen