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.

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”

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

the life cycle of a rose

On a thorny stalk

wrapped in veiny leaves

heavy with the burden

of viscous dew

for the  love of light her

corolla lifts upright

a broad faced still life

anchored to the earth

she tracks the sun across

an unpredictable sky.

At dusk she combs the air

with  sweetness

retreating  at twilight into

pearly pools of the moon.

 

 

RosePink

Photograph by Heart

Metaphor of Birds

Birds twitter in my ear,
my  begging palm opens
expecting metaphors to flutter
down like fire flies, settle softly
on  my life line.
From here I can see the river Delta,
a dark green tarpaulin stretched over
the hemisphere.  It’s murky  waves
reflect on fleeting clouds.
Suspended here in the boredom of life,
sinking in ruins of  past lovers with out
consolation to soothe them,
what’s left of words is refuse,
A cache of cliche, the bitter rind of orange
gnawed and  tossed away.
Where is my simile of stars?
A metaphor of sea oats,
the delicate wings of melodramatic
birds caged in my throat?
Imprisoned beneath  footprints,
the crumbling leaves of winter
grieving debridement.

 

56aa2-manuel2bg-2bavendano

Artist Unknown

 

Happy Halloween “)

I’m alone and afraid,  my car abandoned along a deserted highway.  I’ve been walking for a while and my feet are raw ,  I am carrying my shoes in my hand.

When he stops and motions  I hurry to his  door.

Searching his face he seems harmless.     Holding out my cell phone I lie.  ” I will be happy to give you lift,  you  need just get inside”.  When I decline he speeds away.

Browsing the news over morning tea my heart pounds and it is hard to breathe. Her  body was found beneath some trees her shoes clutched in her hand