You want her to be real
A half smile curve of lips
a glide of a hand through hair
the click of heels on a marble floor
You want to be her clothes
falling softly about her feet
that have formed the shape of wings
and when she arches her back
she soars as high as chimera can fly.
art by Luigi Quarti “fallen angel”
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)
The sky is bleached
a roll and crash of thunder
the grass is tall
beneath the rain trees
I ache to leave
my crying place
before melancholy claims
this ruinous summer
let me stretch out
like some sexy feline
a carnivorous Panther
fighting the
impulse to pounce
Photography by Dennis Charles
Between sleep and wake
traversing birth and death
there is the faint hint of earthy
candles.
Macabre dreams are scattered like
strophes of sonnets
the sensation of pearls spilling
like tiny moons through open fingers.
At the boundary I find you
not a spirit or rose tinged snow
but flesh and bone and sinew.
I am sleeping less now
roused by the wing beats of boreal owls
circling an ancient Cypress,
their knife edge talons entwined in
webs of moss clinging to knotty limbs.
Fitful gusts burst through
barriers of creaking walls vibrating
my hemispheres to consciousness.
A celestial tapestry of recollection
lifts me over the valley to a moonlit
hillside of sweet lea where a silver
wolf lies beside me.
He is the scent of golden wheat and
his eyes are the color of the eastern sky.
Then , wisdom grew from fruit
We were winged and freedom
was etched on the soles of our feet
We knew nurturing green earth
and deep blue ocean fed skies
The pathways of earth and heaven
were known not charted
We stepped naked into the blazing sun
bared ourselves to golden rivers and
awesome tidal thunder
scattered like stardust
art by Wysocki
Deep as the Mariana Trench
The finest opus of Nightingales
A paradise where birds
sip nectar from petals that
unfurl just for you
Let me leave my mark
Roses beneath the snow
Lovers
Caught in a mock sinners lullaby
Pexel.com
On sleepless nights
I stroll the left bank in sequined heels
My Eyelids heavy with smoky glitter
Among the art I find you
Your essence pierces my veins
Settles in the pool of my heart
Dim lights flicker their last warning in
the cafe where like willows we sway
To long forgotten love songs
Then you are gone never hearing Je t’aime
the only French I know.
Mark Spain Art
“Je t’aime, Je t’aime (lyrics by Serge Gainsbourg and Jane Birkin)
“I love you
Like a fool like a soldier
Like a movie star
I love you I love you
Like a wolf like a king
Like a man that I am not
I love you like that”
Your eyes are the crescent
of a silver bay that circles my mind
in the deep mystery of sleep
your voice an invocation of bells
that once rung cannot be undone
in dreams I am your dancer
beckoned by your call
a charm on a well cut cuff
a link on a diamond encrusted chain.
“The Dancing Girl” by Noelie Ramon
Hold me in fleeting hours
while we are beautiful and wild
winged creatures of the night
sipping honeysuckle vines
sustained by the sun and rain.
Stay when summer departs and
butterflies flit at teardrops pooled in
the corner of my eyes.
Lie down with me in winter when
hoar frost coats the rose buds
and blue birds cease their song
tiny skeletons of hollow bone
indifferent to the cold
These lips are petals
reminders of lost flowers
If you do not return
but fly on to distant gardens
my body will seek shelter
beneath the feathers of
tongueless birds.
Translation by Bernd @ neues vom Hutschi
Halt mich fest in flüchtigen Stunden den schönen und wilden, unser Fleisch ist voll und reif, geflügelte Wesen saugen die Nacht auf, Jelängerjelieber, die von Sonne und den Regen gespeiste. Bleib, wenn der Sommer vergeht und der Garten vom Lächeln nippt, das aus der Iris deiner Augen blitzt. Lieg bei mir im Winter, wenn die Vögel zu singen einhalten, winzige Skelette aus hohlen Knochen, gleichgültig der Kälte gegenüber. Für dich sind meine Lippen Blütenblätter, süße Erinnerungen an verlorene Blumen. Wenn du nicht zurückkehrst sondern weiterfliegs, wird mein Körper Schutz suchen unter den Flügeln zungenloser Vögel. translated by Bernd Huschenreuther
art by Steve Hanks
From the train window
I can see miles of Pine trees
that seem to go on forever.
There’s a golden wolf howling
at the moon
chanting to the midnight Gods.
By morning Pine trees give way to
Palms and screeching Cicadas.
Tonight the moon reveals the belly of
the world from which we all come.
All that I have left is a photograph.
Tell me night-time dreamer why you
hold so many secrets in your heart.
When I look into your eyes
all I see is star dust.
