love...

love... 

  sunset in liquid

  choir in cavern

  first bite of ripest fruit

  oceanic undulation

love...

  sunrise of blending

  aria in dialogue

  participant of mergence

  continuance of flesh

blackness

love, O love

O my dear

my sweetheart

this is not another poem about you

no

this is without you

this is darkness

there is not another word from

this pen to unite us

not another mirage that

i run towards with hope

i am blackness

deaf to melodies

void of proclivities

i am blackness

i am without you

  my sweetest

  my dear

this is without you

( blackness )

O love...

(My photo)

she dreams of (for ashleigh kay masichuk)

she dreams of dancing at 2am

as the last spilled beer is

absorbed into the bar towel

and three wrinkled dollars are

shoved into the glass tip jar

she’s a pretty girl in a pretty dress

not this exhausted mess at the

end of another double shift with

a t-shirt baring the company logo

and khaki shorts with bleach spots

it’s wine and jazz, sax and piano

but her head is numb from hours of

heavy grunge and guitar feedback

and that fucking singer that screamed

every fucking word he fucking sang

she dreams of love in the arms of a lover

while the stage lights come on and

the bouncers escort the last wobbler

out the door, she reaches for a 

cigarette but the pack is empty

midnight in the garden

midnight

changing flowers in the garden

this one never looked like you anyway

uprooted

mangled and cut

there is solace in degradation’s scent

i’m turning the soil

preparing these grounds for a better bloom

something wild

something i dont have to tend to

something crazy

midnight

and the garden is empty

just worms in the dirt

and scattered petals

somewhere

love is a seed,

somewhere close by,

I just haven’t found it yet

apologies to the fly

my apologies to 

the fly tonight

for the casual disorder

of the human mind

and the hand that

got away from me

provoked by its happy

flits and flutters

for some reason

for no reason

the fly tonight

no longer flies

i feel as either

a made man

or

something just as dead

traveler

the day begs to be with you

by wind it bends towards you

but you bend away

hollow in the center

  without root you up and leave

you’re not one for any garden

not the work of gardener’s hands

nor the upright bold of stone

nor the surrounding gate

  nor the path within

those you’ve known call you a traveler

the distance dreamed of by an idle eye

pretty by mistake

a mirage of intentions

  here for the moment that never stays

impossible to forget

when all i do is remember

i place restrictions on my heart

so i never have to hurt again 

in tones of Spring

whisper to me

in tones of Spring,

guide me from

the travails of Winter

be gentle,

my body’s still

quivering in transit

be warm,

my heart’s still

shivering in thaw

be true,

my mind is

adjusting to clarity

be pure,

my spirit needs

a virtuous pursuit

assemblage

i don't think of you in

fractions or fragments

you’re not the climb of a vine

or the support that it clings to

you’re an entirety

an assemblage

a complete saturation

the feeling of entwinement

entanglement

a mutual whole

 

(5-7-5)

grey drizzle morning

clouds dulling the rising sun

still, i wake and breathe

out there

out there somewhere

  is the

Love, She, You

of all my poems

the subject of verse

  of tripped up words

  of microblatherings

  of rambling prose

if only i knew

i would jump there in a second

exigent love would bloom

from a release of desperation

for now

i etch my words into these

feathered formats

should she see them

  love

  you

know i am longing to somehow

be there

the birth of change

 

, i am

concrete of a city floor, i am

steel bones of a high rise, i am

soils of a vacant field, i am

the trunk of a mighty oak

sewer streams in gutters, i am

flickering neon lights, i am

viscous trails of slugs, i am

feathered flights of hawks

moonrise on the ocean, i am

silvered blue and grey, i am

midday desert sunlight, i am

crimson burn and char

the gardens are all around me, i am

planted here and thrive, i am

just as grown as anything, i am

yet to be revealed

soft collisions

there’s a silence

when the sun breaks

when the breath you stole

from the night escapes

when the ocean calms

itself of waves

and soft collisions of

dream remain

there love lies

as silent as a spy

unfettered, unassigned

as breaking sun arrives

thevirtualinstructor.com

 

O poem, O poem

in fragments or flows

in rhyme or free verse

as thief or provider

O poem, O poem

there’s a poet in the gloaming

a seeker on the path

of a maze undeciphered

dream in a mixing bowl

over the edge of this

flat earth

falling in a descending

scream of perfect

chromatic scale

intervals

dream of a splash

but there is none as

gravity be damned,

but something is

pulling me

stir of a soul in

the lost swirl of

nothingness,

mixed in extremes of

zero kelvins and

inferno

the beauty here is

elusive,

divested of gender;

  if you believe in

  anything

  it will only

  block your path

(5-7-5)

morning aria

kiss me here, my love, my girl

while music still plays

good company

most of my favorite singers

are dead

their heavy lives now

weightless,

jaded anarchy now in step

to the binding laws of afterlife

  whatever they may be

their lives taken too early

by self or circumstance

now wailing in a room of echoes

  the questions that haunt

  without answers

yes death, you win again

take the singers, the poets

the voices of strangers

i’ve come to know

  you always win

i am still soothed by the

company i’ve gathered

(5-7-5)

missing you, i take

refuge in your distant voice

  love is an island

cradled

i love you

not the way love makes you

run and

jump and

sing

and say that you can do

anything

no

i love you in a silence

that cradles the heart

engulfs the soul

it

 

somebody’s fucking

somebody’s fucking

i can almost feel it

legs spreading

secrets revealing

somebody’s fucking

i can almost taste it

lips encouraging

tongues entangled

somebody’s screaming

~ Oh fucking god ~

as moon continues

the overflowing

somebody’s fucking

i can almost see it

the lights are dim now

the shadows receding

below Isabel

with memories of my own lost love

i sit below sweet Isabel

and swat the flies below an Oak

and loathe the passers-by

for them i weep, i pour myself

into a lonesome sigh

for those who pass with just a glance

have nothing in their eyes

  and nothing left for you my love?

  or nothing but some placid thought

  that breaks your beauty down to half

  now naked in this garden

  i beg of you, dear Isabel

  think now good thoughts and pleasures

  and dream a day when god unites

  all sorrows with their treasures

 

crushed

vacillating lips

paused - reluctant

broken apart

suspended consent

palpable breath

heavy anticipations

moist hesitations

breathe out

breathe in

crowded inhibitions

an exit

an entrance

complicated arousals

allowable temptations

vacillating lips

pause - connect

apprehensions demolished

our intentions

crash in

 

as she is

 

Companions (photo print sent to kd)

 

Always so beautiful