Rose Speak

the color and bloom of a breath when you speak,
I curl around every petal
to see you as a daffodil
would only be to settle

no, I think thou ar’t a rose
In a garden rooted in love
drawn deep down from a blood red heart
blessed by a morning dove

Morning Mischief

I woke to the mischief of morning
sneaking playfully up the stairs
Now I’m not quite sure as I think of it,
But I’m thinking you were there.

Something lithely climbed into the bed
and lifted a curl of hair
I felt the lightness in my head
With a breath, but without a care.

Just like dew on a blade of grass,
Is a tear from the morning air.
Cried from the eye of tender wolf moon
Who Found it’s halo was not there.

That’s how I felt, floating on the nexus
Between consciousness and sleep
An apprehensive acrobat
Do I cross or do I leap?

But, trouble in my bedroom today
Was not what it might seem
Because as you taunted me from sleep
I awakened to a dream.

The Question to Your Answer

Love appears before we ask
To bless the future, heal the past.
Gleaming with wisdom of unspoken choices
It patiently waits for the sounds of our voices.

It quells the fears of space and time
Forever onward, leaving no one behind.
From soft glowing eyes to flames of emotion,
Melting horizons and stirring the ocean.

It teases the mind into taking a leap,
Empties our breath, filling dreams as we sleep
It tricks the heart and draws a tear
Yet sweetly sings in the darkness of fear.

And though two paths may seem the same,
The journey of love will forever change.
Shining one light on the rest of our lives
The answer is knowing it always arrives.

Do I

This moment shall never be forgotten
Here on, the first in the endless sequence of
Breathless pirouettes that lie before us
like the promised sunsets.

This moment will never be forgotten
The last in the progression of a gently walked trail
Dappled with the pattern of footprints, some solitary.

This moment will never be forgotten
Like the link in a chain that tethers our past to the unfolding future,
It is the capstone of continuity, a harbinger of perpetuity

Of All moments that I will ever remember
are those that are always next,
that wait like the new woken eyes
of dreaming foxes.

Kissing Andromeda

There is a fat mad woman
Her head pokes through burlap.
Andromeda’s prodigy
In my space, poking me with her pen.
Her lips are flapping, smacking spittle,
Waxy smears on her chin,
A protruding peach pit knob.
Drained and un-kissed lips
Wrap tight over warm pink gums.
Too late, she sees me
Abandoned by gravity,
Lost focus in her black melton.
She pauses, closes her eyes,
with sighs, breaths me
into a hail of dislodged teeth,
spewing dust tails
like cold, crazy comets.
Andromeda sways and lurches.
Our tongues touch and flicker,
While I’m mouthing
Deep muted thoughts of madness.

It's All About Teeth

Drenched – 1 part wine, 2 parts anticipation;
Waking up to 5 parts sensibility.
Morsels of Fritos and homemade chocolate chips,
Wedged and fermenting in the crags of my molars;
and it’s back to the brush;
Truth hisses and stands steaming
in the temporary halt of its journey through time;
locked to the ground and swaying as I write it.
The “now,” there is the cork of the matter. Pith.
We run ahead of ourselves, and look back
asking about the series of nows,
passing by, swelling, and then disappearing like jet contrails.
Is it truth or is it me as the sum of all the truths.
Tiny pre-summer ants,
Navigate battlefields on the sidewalk,
skirting around the shadows of flattened pistils and stamen.
I run over this plexus of stems and petals –
each day, the pink ripening to saffron
then burnt sienna then blackening on the curling edges.
Ah I run, and you run the crazy out – run the sagacity out.
Would be nice to share the dumb obfuscated silence
that only exhaustion brings; faint breath sounds,
rather than these words
that beat at the gates
and burst out like bats from the Carlsbad Caverns.

I’m feeling battish,
dipping mental bread in the sparkles of crimson
left behind in your steps,
as you ambulate over esplanade and dirt trail
the flavor makes me ostensibly awake,
but sensibly tired.
So I sleep, with clean teeth.

Ice Fissures

Spheres of air are trapped in the fibrous fissures.

A million ends of cilia resonating in my ear,

Vibrating my mind down a silent gauntlet of blurred memories.

The tether of vision slips the loop of modesty

And goes slack over a hemisphere of abdomen.

A sunbath besides a glass of naked ice, beneath a cobalt blue sky.

From behind a strangled trellis, your body fades into view,

Like a frosty exhale from the broken seal of a meat locker.

You split the air with the velocity of katydids

Teeming in the dogwoods.

Another ice cube alarms and cracks open

Just as your bathrobe falls to rest around those winged feet.

I retrace the white terry cloth contrails up the contours of your body

To where I imagine gravity pulling it off those wax smooth shoulders.

Stepping out of a plush pile of white onto the cool decking,

You just stand there, like a melting stalagmite,

Only with a bit more contrapposto,

Lightly browned and accumulating a glistening of sweat.

I hear the purling of water as you wade in.

The edge of the glass is tilted over my lip,

And through it, I can make out your rippling image,

 As another ice cube hisses and then snaps