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

Storms

I am touched
by a storm
the tongue of a
fire that burns
away sleep.
A tide crashing
into millions of
crystal droplets
becoming the sun.
My heart is ripe
like summer fruit
sweet juices flushing
tingling veins.
There is a storm circling
the pit of my stomach rising
to ache in my throat.

13459S

Steve Hanks art

effigy

She no longer recalls or feels

Freedom is not a concept

The curve of her back is wired

with filament and straw fills

the space that held a heart

Constructed for crows her limbs

are stripped of flesh

her pupils fixed in the dark.

Her lips are strung with suffering

she no longer speaks because

there are no words that

cut deep enough.

Metal woman

For Pablo

When I found  you

I was not searching

beautiful and wild

our lids heavy with desire

we sipped Santiago raindrops

from our cupped tongues.

Tears of salt-rose fell from my eyes

at the hour of your departure and

my heart became a  dying bird

it’s wings unfastened and open.

 

Night on the Island

by Pablo Neruda

I have slept with you
and on waking, your mouth,
come from your dream,
gave me the taste of earth,
of sea water, of seaweed,
of the depths of your life,
and I received your kiss
moistened by the dawn
as if it came to me
from the sea that surrounds us.

 

Night Music

Losing June


By morning I have renamed us 
when I speak a thousand thrumming
 wings escape my throat 
those crimson wounds you have 
christened with your hands
a forgiveness I can believe in

I've etched your voice in memory
so not to forget the glossy sound
of humming wings when you speak
Your eyes orbit above me
brilliant satellites so that I
may dream free of shadows.

I've pared us down forgotten what  I knew of love and when I try to speak  a thousand wings catch at the cache of my throat.   

 

Night Music