Persuasion

Drawn by the pull of possibility

I am at war with resistance

tempted by persuasion and the

dynamic momentum of hands

on taut shoulders

the gravitational press on tangled

knots and willowy limbs that succumb to

a black spell night

your kiss is kindle igniting

the perfect fire

Come dawn I am a periwinkle

at your pillow

tender petals bending to what

is golden.

61 Figurative Paintings By Kazakhstani Artist Andrei Belichenko

art by Andre Belinchenko

Interlude

In this dream I turn to you

light my cigarette from the glowing

tip of yours.

I propose we fly away.

Your dark eyes whip my mind

into arousal and your elegant hand

on my thigh turns me soft inside.

Your breathing is a sigh against

my ear that whispers my hair

and crimson lips so near devours

your resistance.

Against waves of longing and desire

dreams are always what it could

be like.

Suddenly hares chase foxes

and Roebucks hunt hunters and

to shield me from the terror you

hold me within bleak arms.

We are light breathing

sweet molecules into the night

It would be easy now to fly.

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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.

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

Indulging Conjecture

Pink sand pulls away
from the glistening shore
melting fondant in the
sticky heat
Minute  ecosystems inhabit
tiny  grottoes in  tide pools
of wet sand
Some days I stroll the coast alone
escaping into secret realms of lovers
where there is no logic but
an aching crush I hold to my breast
a passage between a heart and the
mountains where I left you
Allow me to come undone beneath
tender hands on eggshell
the gentle quake of a sigh upon your
unshaven cheek
Let me   drown in the green river of
your eyes where there
is no threat of war hard silence
or the burden of forgiveness

Memory Loves You

I wonder about your kiss

does it taste of honeyed oranges

summer has turned to fall and

my hair is the color of autumn leaves

for you I’ve a garland of abalone that

I plucked from the banks of the river

Though I have wrapped you in the

warm breeze of my embrace

I fear we will never kiss

still memory loves you

Come Autumn

On a mossy hill behind a mock castle

we will read Aristophanes to harems

of nymphs strumming their lyre.

Words transform to birds flitting

hearts of lovers while  I contemplate

the perfect angle of your face

breathe in the amber resin of pine trees

that permeate our senses

There in the unruffled pools of your eyes

I will die just a little

artist unknown

milieu

You want her to be real
A half smile curve of lips
a glide of a hand through hair
You want to be her clothes
falling as she unfolds to the
sound of heels on a marble floor
her feet have formed the shape of her
shoes and when she arches her back
she soars as high as imagined
wings can fly.

Luigi Quarti

art by Luigi Quarti “fallen angel”

I Still Feel You

I feel you

at the razor edge of madness

in the fierce break of waves along

the sea line

a half moon fading at dawn

in shifting shadows of endings.

I feel you in the sweet froth

and flow of memory.

In dark eyes that catch mine in

musty corridors of dreams

I see you

in the wild of wolves

the vigil of birds at my midnight window.

I sense you in sacred passages

where like phantoms we are lost.

art by Karol Bak

Karol Bak kneeling

A Thousand Years

cover the sky with your hand

the summit of your palm is the moon.

Your fingers are streams of stardust

sweeping across ancient dunes

or the slender branches of willows

gliding through desert sand

soft and sediment.

Your words sting like bees that linger

thawing like ice on your tongue.

The heart of every woman you have

loved lives inside me

the cracking bones of beating wings

resounding against fixed walls

whispers of moments come and gone.

Recall my eyes as time,

you have lived here a thousand years