She Doesn’t Speak French

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.

Image result for art by Mark Spain

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”

Temple Bell

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.

Shadow Art Print featuring the photograph Portrait of a beautiful woman dancing by Noelia Ramon - TellingLife

“The Dancing Girl” by Noelie Ramon

Song of Seasons

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

canadianbeauty

art by Steve Hanks

Gold Dust

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.

Breathing air

When I am near you I become a  glimmering

  chimera of mirrors tempered of shell and sand

a cascading niagara plunging into deep pools of desire

where I am so afraid to fall.  

Powerless to hold back I  immerse in the irides  of your  eyes

as speechless as  tongueless    birds.

The current of tides tangles you in the succulent

mirage of my eyelashes. You and I are more than

the wispy smoke of clouds or an epoch of bones

but the breathing air of lovers rushing through veins  

as gentle or fierce as the press of your thigh on mine.

A Different Kind of Love

There are times when I can see myself

through your eyes.

My pale face so in love

aching for the caress of a flaxen

haired boy racing through rolling fields.

Suddenly serious your adventurous eyes

sent yearning shivers through me.

I longed for your touch anytime and

kissed you opened mouth without

permission.

I adored your mock anger when you

chased me and the awkward way

you looked down at your hands.

Soon Autumn threw its shadow on

sprouting wheat, smooth and wet.

Now, I listen to the soft whisper

of your breathing through a half

closed door and know there are

different kinds of love

wild, ruthless, and unafraid.

Dust of Stars

A kingdom of sand castles

feathered sea oats and

wispy clouds

we are the wild rose

etched in the sand

The scent of your cologne

Hangs on the air

a stem from a wine glass

wedged between shells.

Our hollowness is the dust of stars

you remain my mystery

your lips the taste of

tequila sunrise

Rough Waters by Gustav Klimt

Summer with Burroughs

Remember last summer ?

We were obsessed with

Burroughs.

Anything familiar,

the sound of far off thunder

close enough to subdue

the mad-paced hours.

Something  inciting,

like a strike of lightning

the odor of combustion

ready to ignite.

Everything electric

that made us come alive.

Our hearts caught between

whale song and sigh,

spontaneous thunder

with intermittent quiet,

sporadic as a summer storm.

Leonid Afremov  “Rains Rustle”

While I Was Thinking of You

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 holy  for the light, we set the night on fire

profanity in an infinite sky 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

red head on a bench