the lethal dose

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
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The Pale Window

The sun is still low in the sky,
it’s rays have barely begun
to pierce the chill of our pale window.
Don’t go,  we are scarcely out of dreaming.
Caress my breast with the lifeline of your palm
while my head rests in the crook of your shoulder.
With these  fingertips you kiss one by one
I will ease the furrow of your brow and
soothe your body with the twining of my own.
Let the hours pass  through us tenderly
like a shallow river of fledgling reeds.

 

Steve hanks art

 

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

tempting fate

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.

Eve in the Garden

art by Fontaine

the burden of forgiveness

Along the banks

river sand pulls away

from a glistening shore,

dusky gemstones caught in the current.

Minute ecosystems inhabit

tiny tide pools in the wet sand.

Sometimes I stroll the embankment alone

indulging the realms of lovers

where there is no logic but

a crushing ache I hold close

to my breast.

A carapace between a heart and the

mountains where I left you.

Grant me the freedom to come undone

beneath the tender weight of hands

on eggshell.

My sigh is a gentle quake upon your

unshaven cheek.

Allow me to drown in the river of

your impossible eyes where there

is no threat of war, hard silence,

or the burden of forgiveness.

Steve Hanks - Tutt'Art@ (13)

Art by Steve Hanks/ Maher Art Gallery

Blasphemy

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.

 

 

 Dove Mouth

Art by Rita Hardy

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.

an unwinding

No longer a subtle nuance,
crumbling ashes expose me
bare to the outside world and within.
Only fire can make me whole, where is
the flame that burned like the sun?
These amorous teeth aching to bite
soothe the throb of a wounded tongue.
Conflicted eyes follow you through weeds
to cast my sword of roses,
sweet but with thorns and all the
hurt a life can hold.
Still I follow you into history
give you my drop of blood.

Twitter1

Gaudi

Journals

In the whir  of time I reach back

into a vast universe of memories

to recapture the light held captive,

to bring  it forward like a  tiny globe

of fire reflected in the irides of my eyes

or an ocean storming in my palm.

Escaping  life we draped our nights in   promises

breathed them silky as softly burning psalm.

Your  memoir is imprinted  on my heart,

one gentle sway and suddenly I remember.

 

art by Billy Knight

 

 

 

 

 

Resa and the Rock Star

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

slipped away?

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

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51aonoAu0QL-1Dedicated to Resa @ https://artgowns.com