underneath the leaf canopy there is laughter a dark gentle hand becomes a wing’s silver into fine cerulean the spider listens in its watery mirror a tear drop strikes the seraphic edge upsetting an ocean’s concentric |

a shape of rose burns the moon’s glow chromatic on water the blaze is a blood color embers rush and swell with the ease and deepness of a once forbidden kiss a star sheds its skin raw frogs cry in the marsh throats are nickel tongues are bronze pixies flicker on thin strings bright kites of copper light |

in woods nearby the broken-hearted lamb lost again its cough and bleat raise a tempest over the sea the howl in the wind is angels with no one to save when sands have blown away the aura leaves only a painted afterglow the shift in a tranquil mandala |

the bluebell burns purple petals still there swirling descending tail of a squirrel yellows in the electric the garden fissure a delusion in blues and greens leaf and tendril roll against sky of crackling burnt-out plaster cloud faults to crash horizons smash like wine glasses striking fine linen the mind reconsiders a ship in fog dance floor far below sea coral as the music fades I know I love you though I dare not tell you but the blue-bell heard everything |

memory ephemeral as the mystery within I remember them as embers spread to white sand the desert a whisper a door is set in the autonomy like a lightning strike beyond the door a void a heart-beat a small hand grasps a star glitter of fingers a comet tail stallion shadow in metal limbs and torso a mane of moons the gallop remains after hooves passed illumed like water |

leaves of september trees become sweet they sing in sugaring auburns and golds remarkable in rings silks marble on tongues stroke of thumb against corals and mauve a heart aches for snows |

rare and deathly warm its artery pulses like a fledgling rose petal succulent wrinkle and thorn an ephemeral carnal nettle nocturne turning in crimson first snow fall in flame |

can one word conjure both love and grief? consider a pearl and its secret a dark eagle wing beats beneath its smooth sheen such omen tethers its light obscures its nature the pearl never quivers a sure white it winters a schizophrenic between a vampire’s talon grip and an archangel’s snowy lip |

crisp winter sunlight slips down stiff strips of a frozen tulip frost crowns a glitter and swell as everlasting as your pale lip I remember it thick and petulant brooding against ocean crest and trench reality settles its snowflake at the sill sun sets as your kiss descends worlds begin and end in this bliss |

sun speaks each beam wields a voice leaving the world shimmering in visions angles bend lending vibration to inanimates aromas of flower tower and collapse through stem and sepal sound awakens tones in coral buds open as fish schools swish their sequined fin tendril spirals from bone to sky while sun sets every color in coral each other’s breath close |

last thought labyrinth sequesters time leaves shift infinite greens storm clouds illume as these lights these shadows as immense hands souls float tangents sharp and white ledge and aura at compass point the throat of a lily opens its supple metal tongue flashes like an angel thrashing in slow ocean shallows her wing tethered to coral memory deep in the bone pale mouth unlocked yet unable to scream |

a blot of ink drops into snow and so a young girl sheds her shadow walks alone in a world colored by a painter beloved brushstrokes conjure thunder moments before rain drops cling to the verge drenching caustic naturals ecstatic and vital weathered palm and branch stretch spring lilacs burgeon purple |

strawberries-their quick venus glean and particle beam shriek over the bowl’s ledge the atoms seem a bit schizophrenic in the crimson seed speckled flesh the blush uncertain the succulent rush a red waterfall where a vulcan walks the rock spit sunspots blot his iris purple on off on off a perfect tango the shift of water against cliff and vulgar growl at depths |

a little one still running sun angled funny floral skirt hem flows over dirty toes fanatic time-bomb across the distance a paralytic of heads cough and drop on slow-motion tape arms and legs flail mouths in a blasé crowd gape ash no sound in the open screams suck into cloud between the tear and mirror an echo of metal in her head of mortar and shells of wedding bells the barbed wire fence not twenty paces yet city’s gate ever moving ahead |

a boy alone with thought and forest a dark bird he sits in midnight’s indigoes spine relaxed against a tree vast black wings retracted scratched knees drawn to a heart and chin he reads love poems under branch and leaf which stretch beyond celestials the tree someone one make a wish upon the tree under which two loves kiss the boy reads love poems for days for weeks for years his pleasure enchantes angels and demons essence brushing nirvana never looking back collapsed back through the tree and dreams to dust |

the ruby illegitimate and longing to be loved with time its mind becomes a constellation over an afterglow dreams ravaged through like wildfire bird and creature scattered a nostalgia of stallions shadow manes cast a vast swath against thistle and flower swallowed whole eyes strain on the edge until corpse breath is everywhere earth sifts to salt and sand a charred butterfly sparks somewhere above the silence soft skulls penetrate cloud they too are soon gone no past gesture only a moon spot and memory of ruby |

a rose bud opens when the garden’s heart fissures stark thought faults earth as scents break ground petals evolve of smoke and angels bell and feather reveal a sweet dove face |

spring is sudden and with love myth begets nothing sugary the apple tree all over blossoms pearl into soft blond curls |

–Robert Graves

|

Apollo awake in the leaf for hours
while I sleep, nearer the water’s edge
quiet and shy as the moon, I listen –
the beam of light within me blooms,
I smile in my own shiver’s ember,
the flicker of dream
in water a tender echo.

|

whomever is there is as much a part
of the house as water pouring
for a bath, the renewal of dressing
in the mornings, as much as relaxing with dusk music –

|

into evening the raining became a storm – thunder
after thunder and lightning crashed together.
flashes began to speak of the unseen slipping
from a timid eyelid, the roar settled somewhere
underground, lasting still and fast
in its cataclysm and intimacy.

|

water in the orchid vase – I drew a shape like a mother
holding her child in her arms, a shy, bright flower
at her hip as I moved the glass full of water and stem
to the basin to drain, petals opened toward sun.

|

the wind through these bare trees
sparks like the din of a silversmith at work.
etchings of metal and jewel illume
in leaf and shadow. fairies and sprites
come down as the sound of sun.
they stay with me and we play.
there is a reflection of water
against a modesty of skin
and silence in noticing
our own shiver.

|

he is the play of light and shadow
against my sadness, a walking at the window,
he is the image of silver, a hush of wind
through dry leaves – we lay together
for hours and days, the stars flute music.

|

I feel hollow yet full like a beam of light
is nothing really material but it can restore
your soul. I shiver when I remember –

|

just beneath the surface, melancholy music softly on strings.

|

something remains – a stillness which gives
every thing its resonance, its wind
renders the walls translucent and fluid,
it sweeps the house clear of dust,
it shines the windows and floors,
it washes our clothes in tears.

|

when I look without rush or thinking
too much, you are here. I touch
my hand to the mirror and see
your reflection. the gaze
becomes water and so
our bond is open, the image moves
after we move, glass shifts
as consciousness drifts.
the dream becomes transparent
yet still there, the flesh a flame tempering
it into impossible shapes. I want to tell you my name.

|

neither
soul needs more or less attention a fusion
knows its moment regardless of words
and emotion it can not pretend
its beginning or end, the rhythm
bends when both give in again

|

hums softly in his medium – Apollo.

|

crossing the bridge, writing carved in the hedge said,
‘Dearest Human, I love you.’
a caricature glowed beneath the words.

|

berries and a ring of flowers – home
and quietly working, thinking about touching.

|

Apollo answered – who is here with me? who, beyond what I see?

|

touch through mirror and water, after
midnight – Apollo laughs –

|

suspended in a hammock of an immense
green leaf – our resting
place the branch of a tree.

|

inside a small bright chrysalis of light – I drink from this glass.
a moment or hours pass –

|

we fold together our hands
and tenderly lower our foreheads
to breathe, to give I have not yet
touched him or him me, at each
cry a hand radiates over the wound,
we wait and we dream.

|

|

startlingly clear aqua, like a celestial lyric
[as though a rose thrown after the soprano’s last note,
not the applause and opened hearts, the only stoic thing among it all..
the contradiction - is she a possession or a vixen?]

|

shy gray tumbling from plum nebula
[ask me in the dream and I will
answer, how a woman like me
once loved a man like you, I
see the door, a hand opens
over the broken lock.]

|

an indigo shivering in midnight’s abdomen
[naked as thorns, we tremble from across
the breach of stem, worried should we
spontaneously move and wound one another
with our sharpness, we stare
into darkness…]

|

browns of earth and dust entering a sunset’s ascent
[the vision ends when the footprint erodes in soil,
the moment a mystic passes through the mountain -
her look as gentle as starlight falling
through beauty’s most grotesque gesture.]

|

the shock of instant dark and light, a flashbulb’s mocking
[I thought I loved you, right or wrong,
all I wanted was our bodies to be
naked and alone, touching only with
eyes closed, with no words, our palms
open against skin and hope.]

|

shifting blues stiff as steel, yet clear whispers
[thought petals touch sky, imperceptible their time.
they stretch and bend like amnesias un-loosed from the garden.
a young girl plucks, will he love me? will he not?]

|

the hook of sand, casting shadows in looks
[before we speak, we kiss and exchange gifts,
we do not miss the looks of wanting to be lovers.
our play only our trying to find another way
home - we will go by horse, you say - how much longer will it take?
if we ever get there...just imagine I am riding after you.]

|

transmuted greens of a sunbeam-infused leaf
[never, never after a rain or a kiss or promise
will I want to make love. after an act of compassion
you can know all you want as the rose bud warms in the sun
and its petals gently open.]

|

a purple surface, un-ending plump berry skin
[as often as your caress, I imagine love - though how long
the stroke and moan, I can never know. we climb a tree in the dream,
you after me and me after you. we watch snow fall until dawn.
we have yet to love at all.]

|

white only falling in after-snows and silence
[will an apology gentle my memory?
a pardon for every man I see?
I suffer a protest, a bomb threat, mocking
my own freedom. have I won or lost?
the body forever speaks - naked, tortured and weak,
will you still love me?]

|

uncertain urgent pinks among mystic sequins and cloud
[the world waits for a beautiful girl.
fast glances by café men
a stealthy caress, a public undressing,
like cigar breath over an imagined ankle spangled in heels.

the old village painter says
I’ll paint you
the rest of your life
and for a moment, she is lonely.]

|

shattered eggplant moving in glass pieces
[near midnight, moon’s eye refracts scattered
nerve and bone and thought, I am what
I trembled not the pearl I wanted –
the poem is over when I
have said this –]

|

a sliver of silver reflection on a stopped pond
[I am your angel, nothing less, nothing more --
our way so theatrical as a high-roller
woos a whore, both absent and pure, searching
one fortune and only our souls to gain in lost stakes.]

|

phantom spectrums against prisms and wind chimes
[the sun rises despite its perpetual loss,
another dark lover has gone, the consequence
is as stark as watching god cradle
her own head in her hands –

still,
light pours through cracked glass
as colors silently move.]

|

charcoal hollows burnt with intricate tinsel
[love a shy girl like you knew her, though
her silence frightens and excites you -
a former child of war, thinking, ticking, schizophrenic
time-bomb, your dream, you say, for this –

I will pay much more.]

|

crimson speckled with dark feathers and snow
[like a rouge, I open a winter window -
a bird’s call tickles my toes, the crow
lonely as ever - he croaks and chokes - with one
stroke his throat softens. we listen together for spring’s coming.]

|

starlight rising from an common iris
[evening whirls like a carousel - silhouettes
spin after shadows, flowers dizzy among the music.
cords strike a fury in star and bell.
blush of a young man at my cheek, flesh glitters
as he lifts my chin towards a first kiss –

we fuse with moonlight.]

|

simple white light which mimics a surreal distance
[what I refused to love I lost –
how beauty eventually eases the body,
the object an apparition –

/a star
shivers /
open.]

|

translucent pastels ascending with muted ethers
[a pearl croaks in her shell.
she is tormented by the sea,
by the fragility in its breeze.
her call exhausts porcelain throat cords -
they beg for another stroke, when
a warm hand descends to tell a love story.]

|

frost cast in tingling spindals after slight wind
[first snowflake holds winter’s stillness -
notice the ember-like shape, its spiral a peril
between thought and geometric - it descends among the un-common,
glittering, as the vision within us…]

|

shaded haze flooding over the softness of ash
[the revolution begs for truth,
for something new that is ultimately known -
the rose bud exposed to wind and cold,
its cry leaves the world a tear illuminated.]

|

a light bulb shift through parchment paper
I pause as you nest and enfold
your wings in the evening, we stay warm
and our light intermingles.]

|

unravelling cerulean caverns, then bending yellows amoung them
[music played in shadow bells as sure
as a tender flower whose petals
know just when to open, without pretence
or motive, the last note a spot

of sun /
in the leaf of my palm –]

|

wild mango and blind dew, a splash of sudden daisy edge
[before you go, show me your hands, tell me
your madness, your passions -
a flesh palm unfurls from once
nestled petals / smells swell in sweetness
and meadows —

the calyx glistens / wet as the skin of a bitten
apple — the forgotten blossom an eye
newly opened –]

|

a vast black eyelid descending at midnight
[we meet again and again each night
I want to tell you something though I
do not speak, I close my eye-lid and give
the color of my full lips, I wait
in another look and bare skin -
the confession deepens - our souls creep in the moon’s fine glow…]

|

no color, sound or light – of glass insides
[is it the wind at my window or your voice?
your hand is a branch, scratching against black and glass.
even my dream you want to keep - though I owe you
nothing more. the hours tick to nowhere.]

|

teal and beige stone coming and going in textures
[watching, I walk towards the sea -
its shimmer beguiles me.
waves glow shadows under smoke, slow gulls
fly low against gray cloud - the deepness still a mystery,
my bones already coral, my skin flickering a blue-green in scales…]

|

rainbow metallic shapes, nostalgia, star confetti
[after the revolution what shall we do?
play in the streets?
have something sweet to eat?
dazzling fat streamers lewd and strewn,
balloon eyes popped, brut statues hauled down.
what now? what now?
I can write any kind of poem,
thoughtful, erotic
or melodic…

we can forget in public,
when neither other remembered its sword -
we have spoken an honest word.]

|

last ember shiver upwards to ash
[I love you without wanting more
than your birth - a rose bud convulses
and sputters to open among the cry and blood,
the heart known by its shape in the flame –]

sensuousness unending, tender
curve and concentric nearer to forget

every past shed tear – the mood compelled
to savor a nape of roses as it changes lens fragment

and shutter depth by light wielding ever
so gently its omen and sword.

an empire reconsiders its plight
from sunrise unto this uncertain night.

|

in the hours which pass, a token meditation ends.
thoughts crossed the border of the mantra by accident,

splitting sickness and fog for a taste of elation.
after the rainstorm, blithe fireworks light

the nightmare, a gentle roar.

|

seen through their first illumination,
too silent to breathe, too quiet to dream.

winged sensations bend in from another dimension –
falling walls hollow out to oblong caverns,

slender waves break up encroaching space-time.

|

common objects ring in notes of an opus, tones
rise from shadows – cadence shifts, memory drifts.

|

in one corner, a painter – he etches
skeletons and melodramas, waiting in layers of time,

somehow, he survives.