abreast of nightshade tipping the moon
hands of iron cupped my desire coaxing me,
into the shadow-lands of my obsession

the shades moved
as your fingers found their mirror,
and iridescent trails of dark-light
kaleidoscope across my skin

I have visions of your hands
and their movements,
I feel a rush of want
to pull in their need

obsessed
I watch each wave
within every gesture

My great friend rested in the forest
Wrapping himself in the beauty with dreams
Enjoying the trees,
The light played hide comes seek
Leaves sailing as ocean ships in a breeze
This was his world as he thought of it
Always there to enhance his being
Part of the earth he loved so much.

American Fault Line......

when you talk of her

also say solo
my mind rushes
flushes and blushes
as a sailor why!
you ought to know

but that your lover be a boat,
I needn’t quote
twas a surprise
for anyone to read
poetry
as lovely…

O what a coincidence
my mind resembled some ones
but hello sailor
I like to read real poetry
of a sailor at sea

as one rests the night
in a country …..
as foreign as distant from home,
it can be

there is blindness run
like a stain
spreading specimen
illuminations

the soft decay
of our mortal meeting
closed off like the empty
Halls

rain filled and dust kept
annointed with ghosts
and winds

The fire consumed us
like a hungry
burning like brands
striving heavenward

broken halos

caustic tridents touch
in May ritual

I wake
while snow
crawls towards
the alley
past the bent
lamps

fraudlent and free
we wear our scars

Hot face
meet cold desk.
Voices carry but not much sinks in,
because of course
you think
no, you KNOW
you could do better.
Fight the urge to speak out of turn
the monster clawing at your ears
clawing at your insides
tearing at your chest.
Spring is coming from everywhere,
possibly
Spreading, contagious.
Everything is moving
and I am not the biggest leaf in the woods
but my roots are coming up
and I am falling down
but at least I can interpret art in more ways than one.

move me past
these words
stroke my face
as you transport me
on the tip of your
tongue, directed,
everywhere

there is nothing
but the fall
to your arms,
no softer
arc to land,
or port for
this storm

without you
I am mindless,
restless flesh,
twitching
an immitation
at life,
in the longing
of this separation

Snow came last night to rest on her way to colder places.
I woke to her, smiling.
An old lover.
We spent the day in wondering silence.
Two old friends in two old chairs.
Hands touching.
I recalled my tears at her painful diamond brilliance.
How she salted my coal black hair during our lovers walks.
She sighs.
Caresses my face.
The tears return.
My hair is gone but her brilliance remains.
Gently, she kisses my cheek.
With a careless wave and a backward glance
She leaves with a promise of return

at night when the still is visible
and i bank fluorescent tears,
my heart i bathe in blissless grace,
while i page the angry years

at night when the blanket covers
the indifference of the day,
we muse and we ponder
over our merry world and Frey

at night a dream in wander
find me in feeble sleep
and in a frantic moment
my psyche mount to steep

at night i hide my spirit
to disguise a conflict'd mind
and mull over Jove
and all the negations that bind

key slides the lock
pointlessness strokes her face
barren takes her coat
absent unties her shoes
futile removes her gloves
hollow is the hello

a cosy citadel
the bounty reaped
by winsome furtive eyes

each stone
Valentino, Cartier, Chanel

soft manicured hand
alights upon the switch
sombre pale light

eyes proud
heart sullen

man’s original question surfaces
Hamlet offers no solution

successful failure
opulent ugliness

Her throat constricts with a choking wail