I dreamed you beside me
in a small fishing village,
our bare feet dangling
from an ancient wall.
Stone soldiers, eternally
gaurding held back the
swell of the rushing sea.
By the beacon of a distant
lighthouse sea birds flew over
only to vanish beneath its
A shell at my ear I held you,
gathered you in silk arms of netting.
Losing my grip you slipped away,
freed from the catch of dreams.
When you leave I become
the sea gull begging salt from
from the briny air.
My veins are a winding tunnel
Of deep purple sea.
I channel you in the night owl’s
perpetual call that awakens the
Subconscious to the feel of
your phantom hand at the angle of my
At dawn your shirt hangs from a
Closet door in the buttery sunlight
and I become so small I could slip
inside the lining of your chest
sheltered by your warm skin where I
long to be.
art by Anuraag
I know I love you
because when I think
of you my heart feels full,
a pond choking with water hyacinth,
their hungry roots reaching deep
into the beds of yearning,
overflowing walls of longing
where I am so afraid to fall .
Because I love you I forfeit
my privilege, allow my heart
to drown in you as though you
Vincent Van Gogh
There are days shadows course
through me like a breeze,
pressing deep into my life line and
the air is the scent of a stale satin pillow
where I refuse to lay my head.
I don’t fear those intrepid ghosts,
I embrace and release them with
failed gravity or the force that once
held the cupped hand of my lover.
The sky was alive then with every shade of
blue and the clarity of Windsor eyes
where I longed for space.
Desire is a stranger, a lethal dose,
encountered beneath a sacred mound.
art by Laura Makabresku
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.
borrowed from Pinterest
We thirst at the pool of desire,
our reflections distorted in the liquid mirror.
Filled with apprehension we drink deeply,
soothed by the urging of an ancient sigh.
Our bones rapt in wonder, an emerald serpent binds us,
winds a savage path deep into the shadows.
He breathes his breath into us, regurgitates the ashes.
Curls around the ruins, a benevolent green shoot.
art by Fontaine
Browsing through souvenirs
I am reminded of you.
The door to the past swings open
releasing a sleek eel of memories
where I am nothing or at best
some trembling leaf lost on a summer breeze.
Do you think of me?
See me in constellations pressed against the sky,
hear me in the surge of tide, slick sealions riding white horses?
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
flicking the skin of your thigh,
curling around the catch in my throat.
It 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
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.
No longer a subtle nuance,
crumbling ashes expose me to the outside world and within.
Only fire will make me whole, where is the flame that burned like the sun?
The amorous teeth aching to bite
a wounded tongue.
Conflicted eyes watch for you,
cast a sword of roses that is
sweet but with thorns and all the
hurt a life can hold.
Still I follow you into our desperate gardens,
give you my drop of blood.
Remember back when you were a rock star
and I was a hippie angel?
How comfortable we were with our
heart and souls bared.
Do you remember now that you are so far
away that night in Eden when you came to me
and I came to you and the rest of the world
We held on to one another, made love and cried
decided never to speak of how every time
the lights went out you rushed to me,
so tender, coming and going.
Young and in love, we named that month Sextember,
yes, it still matters to me.
Do you remember our anguished goodbye?
Neither do I.
Resa and the Rock Star
Dedicated to Resa @ https://artgowns.com