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.
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.
I enjoy most the wind
carrying dandelion parachutes,
dispersing tiny seeds across a meadow.
That same breeze winding
erratic patterns into my hair.
The softness of a new sweater;
it will never feel so soft again.
I like to explore the meaning of
of life over a glass of wine,
all laid back and philosophic
unless it becomes oppressive;
then a soft smile to break the tension
and an almost kiss.
I am a lone bird wheeling jagged edges
of ancient cliffs above the shallows
of a rough Dover sea.
My feathers gleam in the beam of
the lighthouse where gentle swells
pulse against hollow bones that in
pale blue dreams you hold tenderly
in your palm like a treasured pearl.
We have abandoned the lighthouse
that seems to lean closer to the sea
waiting in vain at the tide swept shore.
The beam has ceased its search,
still each time I pass by I tip my wing.
Art by R. Simon
At night we wander like interlacing
tendrils weaving the desert sand,
touching, entwining, your body
stretching to mine, tightening,
giving way, every ripple replicated
like the amber sand.
At Night the desert grows sweet,
we swim in the cool raindrops of dreams
where each breath is a verse.
A silent Oracle I write Arabesque on
the grain of your skin so when
you emerge at the red of dawn
you will remember.
There is a bird the color of a rainbow.
When he grieves his song pervades the caves of forgotten dreams.
His laughter is a river that sings like children,
it flows through stone to soothe the hearts of angels.
His tongue drips with the honey of desert flowers.
Wading wide shores of light, when we are thirsty
we sip from feathers painted in his colors
when adventure calls we lift our wings and fly away.
The waves sweep in
dropping treasures at the shore
retrieving it with outgoing swells.
Shimmering Seagulls, angled ragged
shapes, swooped up by the winds cadence.
Shells and speckled seaweed coexist
with abalone in every shade of color the
eye can hold.
Macaw and ruby parrots fill the trees
and bird of paradise too beautiful to bear.
Within a moments distraction they vanish
beyond the pebbled shore and falcon sky.
It is too soon
to prune but wilted petals
wave provocatively from a
among the bent stems the sun is pleasing to bare shoulders.
Pulpy worms are sweet to scavenging tongues of hungry birds
plucked without warning from spidery veins of leaves
Elongated roots relentlessly war with nicked and bleeding fingers
I know it it is too early but chaotic gardens long for control
I want to hold you closer.
You smell of sandal wood
and earth after a summer shower.
Because I breathe you, I don’t need the air
and I know how it feels to swim through stars.
In the muted night we sing our song.
You give me a midnight choir,
I always bring the rain.
These verses are
flames meant to melt the
chalice of your heart.
In the white night
we cross the continents,
feel but never touch.
Our secrets, too sacred for the light,
set the night on fire.
I am profanity in a scarlet sky,
A blasphemy of flaws to small to alter fate.
While I was thinking of you
a fledgling fell to earth,
saved by the wind on her
passage to life.