Later In the Dark

At the wharf I lean back against the damp stone wall, sip my drink and yield to the slippery salamander of sea. The moon is a glistening slice of melon, her whisper carries on the wind “moon child I love you too”. Sinking deeper in to my subconscious I watch a velvet sea bird swoop my reflection from silver waves where the sighs of lovers are lost in a monsoon. Old images flicker across my frontal lobe as I liberate sip by sip. That man with the golden veins doesn’t interest me anymore. Later when my pearl skinned body breaks the surface I’ll bring him back again.

art by Steve Hanks

nothing has changed

When dreams pull me under
I call out across the ocean.
You meet me at  the shore
and there is nothing to  hold to
but silvery shadows that cross
and uncross in our slumbering sea.
I bend to you as fragile as  sea foam
tossed in wind rifts  you release
from unfastened hands. 
This is how I love you, a prisoner of repetition,
like endless waves you come and go.

 

 

 

art by Victor Bauer

Night LIfe

From my  window  a sliver of  moon casts a haze over the water. I can hear the  rush of soft waves. Those  creatures beneath the depths,  do they sleep,  dream?  If  parted do they grieve?  Down the street  I can see  the lights from  an all night store. A man waits behind the counter.  Cautiously he  slips his hand under his jacket and takes a long swig from a  bottle.   A group of young thugs gather outside the storefront.   I imagine them  harming the storekeeper.  Distracted by the young whore taking shelter in a doorway they laugh and whisper. Oblivious to her vulnerability she sleeps as though she has never heard of  birds of prey that swoop down with jagged talons hungry for butchery.   I watch intently  in case I need to call out a warning  but losing interest they disappear into the dark.
Maybe nothing is real. Maybe   everything I see and hear is an illusion.   I lose focus on the  outside world and the burn of you stings relentlessly just below the surface.   I want to sleep forever, not give a damn about you.

 

Moonlit

The world is wintry blue.
Vast and still yet there
is no comfort in the quiet.
The wolf inside me shakes
the snow from her fur,
travels through dark timbered
forests and blue gray mountains.
There are others moonstruck,
dusted with the same shine.
Together we trace a midnight
hover of crows unaware.

“Sweet Bird”

After you left I ran along the shoreline past the jetties and scattered surfers hoping to catch the last waves. A haze veiled the shore and vanished in the rain. Fat globules of salt encrusted my eyelids and each breath ripped upward from my belly tearing through my lungs. I sank down on the damp sand behind the old seafood restaurant. Guttural sounds mutating to unearthly howls carried out across the waves. I waited there until they dissolved into the sea.

The sky is always blue and the ocean is frothy meringue not a murky sea where in heavy boots you wade past that place where you lose your grip. Your eyes and throat sting with the rush of saltwater, screams fill your brain but not the air. Sea gulls swoop and squawk, perfect black angles against the sunlight. I open my book by Tennessee Williams whose writing I abhor but the edge of its cover was leaning out as I passed the bookcase, Sweet Bird of Youth.

Pagan Dreams

In dreams my

spirit guide is a Peregrine Falcon

with  wings open wide still

I never fly over  ancient

pathways of quilted fields or

deep woods of amber resin.

Even in dreams  I concede

I am not a  bird but never

really earthbound.

 

Image result for Karol Bak art bird lady

art by Karol Bak

out of body

Your  glass is always half empty,  whiskey the color of your eyes when you are aroused.   I shut my eyes and fixate on the whir of the overhead fan. When you reach for me  I turn away, practicing  my “out of body” I look down from above until my eyes close.  Later we share a hand rolled cigarette, silently  watch  the curls  rise and rip apart in the blades.  Your soft eyes ensnare me, expose my liability.  It is so easy to distract you, pulling back the sheets we laugh,  make love and pull away.  Your eyes are the sparkle of stardust,  a boy at the top of a Ferris wheel.    I swear to  not meet again  but my heart is a red sports car racing along a razor’s edge.

 

art by Fabian Perez

confession

this is not meant for you
though you were there.
I am what I have always been,
an elixir of words.
I will not erode like the sand
or patience if it ever was.
Washed up on a restless shore
I knocked and you opened the door.
Now, like the pearls beneath my feet
I carry no burden save love.

Steve Hanks art

borrowed from Pinterest

washed away

Firelight dances through the bistro,
We lean in close and when our eyes meet
the rain storm streaming down the
stain glass window reclaims us.
Swept away through sea caves,
caverns and seal black maelstroms
we ride the darkness,
diving deep we take what we need.
Thieves, we steal only from ourselves.

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 of teeth.

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