the grass lies flat behind
the tree line. a memory
moves in rhythm to the
sway of branches above
faintness of breath as
an alibi, shared.
sweetness surrendered
in mild apocalypse
come and go, to and fro
these ebbs and flows. a
timeless pattern too relentless
to steady the season
dissipate into the night,
an ache as thick as loss.
quandaries swell in blindness
as distance takes its toll
(Image from ourartworld.com)
your ambient light gathers me. one small footstep into the breeze. unsteady, steadies. falling, falls. and upon touch... resurrected. because hardships are still beautiful if you can take the pain, separate the experience. I consider this a learning. the result, self-evident
ice blue, the tempest. a summer of cold heart. running like thieves before the theft. greedy, into each other. acrobatic attraction. dance-flower pollination
we'll make sense of this at another time. bury your head in me, I am sap-soft and carved out. nuzzle into my neck. take a deep breath of this aroma. ( and I did. and my lips trembled. and my lungs burned with appreciation )
I will travel south with you. as deep as we can go. into the ambush. the glass forest of mirrored selves. familiar strangers, and forgotten
we shall never part
nor become cannibals at our own feasts
(Image by Karl Persson on trendhunter.com)
shall the pulling of
one loose thread
pull our entire world
apart -
ambivalence is a
slimy creature weaving
warp and weft through
words -
sliding my tongue
up and down her back and
groin to neck to groin
brings peace -
love is art is love,
a continual creation
inspired by a connection
that's inexpressible -
(Image from sew-over-it.blogspot.com)
remnants of arguments
and surprise appearances,
Sheffield revisited with a
click, a birthday gesture
happiness is anonymous
the way heartache is there
for all to see, but
no one has to guess
eyes straight forward,
future through a windshield,
calm colors of sunset over
turtles in a familiar lake
I never stop loving her, even
in the hardest moments
as her beauty runs away,
I can always find it
stay focused they say,
the angels in my head,
I'm a million nows from dying
and we have just begun
home to fluff the pillow
and find the coldest side,
enter sleep's dark tunnel
and hitchhike into a dream
rip me open, drain me of
these poisons
you call me succulent and
I call you devourer
tongue to flesh below the
eyes of wolf and crow
black night, black thunder
and willpower surrendered
(Image by dieJodis on deviantart.com)
Sunday is closing now,
the light comes crashing
down
we sulk and mope with
clenched fists
mumbling to our fastened
shadows
about what lies in the
hours ahead
there are a few (couples
only I believe)
still caught in this quiet
romance,
the last of their intimacies
before the alarm
there's nothing quite like a
Sunday quiet
I'm resolved to just admire
its ancient decay
(Image from mirrorsinner.tumblr.com)
talking to god in vowels
but its too soft to make a
difference
most prayers are shaped as
consonants
sharp-edged, crowded
or out of place
I'm not really praying though,
more like hoping
( I don't like to
throw things at intangible
notions )
innocent wishes
fluttering in the air,
soft ducklings swimming in
a deep black lake
most of these will be
blown away
or drowned
for the rest of them
I provide my own securities
(Image from mirrorsinner.tumblr.com)
(Image from morethanfleshandbones.tumblr.com)
photon bathed
primal,
instinct into delirium
I, unwashed of
harbored things amassed
pulled out, pulled forward
to nude
with crimson flush
in petty flesh,
this liquid surge
both pulse and flow
the hottest melt
now cries, now sings
with radius reach
into out of bounds
whenever we lie
upon silence unfed,
there ripeness bleeds
as punctured fruit
(Image from designtaxi.com)
August, with its
morning breath
steaming up the
windows like a
greedy dog
fierce cacophony
of hungry reptiles
below the humidity
of still hours
harsh sunlight and
swelling storms, both
falling upon you and I
so helpless here
sweating in obscene
places, the biting
beach sand, tree shade,
car wash relief, umbrella
slipping September a
love note, X's and O's
waiting patiently for
her to take my breath
away, or just give a
promising wink
(Top image: mirrorsinner.tumblr.com)
(Below image: exOskeletal-undead.tumblr.com)
I had forgotten or dismissed all of the ingredients. jambalaya in the pot, zuppa di pesce, or what have you. regardless, what I'm saying is that something didn't taste right. so years went by and life rolled along and I got used to the hunger, never choosing to indulge. nothing seemed appetizing. or my palate changed. or I swallowed my tongue in my sleep. I really don't know
numb: its a feeling of not feeling. hold a flame to the skin or be kissed by a beautiful smile... but nothing. no reaction. its that absence
there comes a time of change. everyone has a spring season. I sat in my winter and got used to the cold. it felt awkward to dream of the warmth of sunshine. where in this pale surrounding were the colors the others played in? underneath or above or beyond what I saw before me? I heard laughter in a vacant playground. the whiteness stretched out for miles in all directions. somewhere things were blooming, I just couldn't see it
you have to be willing to be rescued when the chance comes along. what I'm saying is that spring is not a place, its an arrival. an acceptance. you allow the thaw. you look inward and outward to see the colors. you feel the blooming everywhere
I hold one persons hand now, and it fits right every single time. the hunger is gone because I am now fed. I taste completion. I feel the kiss and I feel the flame. these colors are new and they are all around me. they come out of nowhere, they come from within. I look at her and I constantly feel the arrival. I wish I could explain it more. perhaps... as these years go by
( my photo )
I'm walking up against
the wind,
this is indeed my
borrowed time
the cuffs, the lattice
the burning furnace
the thorny glade
the wired wall
magnitude of malevolence,
one tired hand upon another
cutting into this air
slithering through inadvertently
egress, the high transom window
and sight of sunshine
...
I'm walking with the
wind now,
this is no longer
borrowed time
the hatchery
the abundant cloud
the river, the highway
the umbilical love
relevance of release
into the transformation,
the perpetual firelight
the significant ease
the expanding awareness
all flight, free
as feathers
(Image from fineartamerica.com)
vegan ice cream
an easy afternoon
delighted in her presence,
a simple day on repeat
our secret connection
casual and carefree in a
downtown ice cream shop
they just find you sometimes,
these delicious flavors of
cherished togetherness
or once in a rare while
you seek them out but they
morph into something better
its been so long since I've
had this taste or made this
effort, I had to devour it
watching her enjoyment with
fondness and arousal, her
beaming eyes and lapping tongue
I didn't search for these things
that are good for me, delectable
like vegan ice cream, like her
but releasing fears and
taking chances brings
welcomed surprises
if you let it
...
at the creamery
an easy afternoon
delighted in her presence
a simple day on repeat
casual and carefree in a
downtown ice cream shop
they just find you sometimes
these delicious flavors of
cherished togetherness
(Image from @thegreenerycreamery on instagram)
even these pieces of me
scattered on the ground like
glass shards, the whiskey bottle
aversely reflecting the moving
hours of the sun. a warm tint
of creamed yellow and bronze
tastes of sharp drunkenness but
not intoxicated by the heavy proof.
I pick them up, every one of them
jagged stiff flower petals of sorts.
if they're going to wither and die
it might as well be in the palm of
my hand
memories of broken selves,
shriveling
(Image from pxhere.com)
