Turning

Feel the  changing seasons,

the tilt of the  Earth’s axis,

the days growing longer as

the night  desires to linger.

Summer seemed boundless,

the sundial casts long shadows.

I will miss  you with your

brand of ripeness,

August’s   lustrous brightness

inciting the senses with fields

afire beneath a summer sky.

Now its wheat is  stacked and

bound  in lonely batches.

Buried beneath autumn leaves

the earth  imbues the darker hues

starless skies of delft blue and

gray swathes  that cloak the dawn.

The ash of burning  locust wood

shrouds the wilting garden with

the musky scent of autumn ghosts

heralding the chill.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Summer with Burroughs

Remember the summer
we were obsessed with Burroughs?
Anything familiar like  far off thunder
close enough to subdue  mad-paced hours.
Something  inciting,  a strike of lightning
the scent of combustion ready to ignite
everything electric that made us come alive.
Our hearts caught between whale song and sigh
spontaneous thunder and intermittent quiet
sporadic  as a summer storm.

 

Leonid Afremov  “Rains Rustle”

pearls of summer

The waves are salty sea lions

and the sky is a shadow of gulls.

The summer sun spills down

my throat and there is little

need for words.

The  sky is  jacaranda and

the shore is willing to bear

the imprint of my bare feet,

slippery and wet.

The pearls  I have gathered

I’ve scattered like the past,

cling to  untied lifelines

something for my hands.

 

 

Steve Hanks Art

 

 

 

 

 

 

in the dark

From the fog I can  hear the sighs

of lovers lost in the monsoon.

Images  flicker in my frontal lobe,

that man with the golden veins,

he  doesn’t interest me now as

sip by sip I liberate  my mind.

Later when I am  cocooned in the dark

I will bring him back  again.

 

reinvented

Summer gardens
of  bobbing blossoms
wave beneath a pale blue sky,
I want to be there once again
naked among broad   fronds
unashamed among bird of paradise,
clinging dew drops on sun drenched thighs.
Meet me there once  again before  Summer
bids farewell.  Feed me sweet red apples while
they are nothing more than fruit

 

 

 

A Poem

I wrote this just for you

I want it to be perfect.

Its verses clear as a summer sky

carnation clouds ascending.

May I lean back in your rose colored

swing until it is time to go?

I don’t want to own,

I just want to be  here.

 

 

 

 

Translation By Bernd @ Neues Vom Hutschi

Ich schrieb dieses Gedicht
nur für dich.
Ich möchte, dass es perfekt sei,
mit Versen, hell wie ein
ein Sommertag.
Wallende Wolken,
aufsteigende Nelken
aus einem Garten, den ich erschaffen habe.
Lehn dich zurück in meine Rosenblüte,
eine farbige Schaukel und
geb dich Tagträumen hin,
bis es Zeit ist zu gehen.
Ich möchte, dass du regierst …
Ich will nicht besitzen,
nur dabei sein.