I've seen you in my dreams again
It starts off all the same
I glide through the crowd and latch
On to the sphere of your being
Like children meeting
We laugh and it feels like spring
This is how it's supposed to be
And my longing is no more
I hold fragments of our time
And watch them dissolve
Repeating the scenes
So the essence can remain
Yet there is no forever
For it's lost in the brain
My terminal shatters
But amends when we sleep
Mar 16, 2015
Mar 16, 2015 at 5:44 PM UTC
He wrote sigils of the world with air.
Pursued upon every street and grove,
attempts to writhe free are unwarranted;
Though in what way could escape mean separation?
Cast over rifts like a falling mist,
paradigms lay sedimentary
mediating sight as a membranous
pseudo preface to the essential.
This alluvium breathes, drawing inward
consecrating the dreaming idol;
We had found a stitch in space
where mortals wield no bodies.
Now subtle coagula are vessels enough
So temporal wills decay.
Join the aether;
Through the high cascade
some remember first knowing Self
akin to parting breaths in absentia.
This is our amniotic solvent;
The cycle stops repeating;
A ceaseless inception
compressed upon Eternity.
Our beginning remembers the end.
Apr 11, 2014
Apr 11, 2014 at 2:03 AM UTC
On the night I flushed my head
Herbs offered in moonlight's grace
- Surrendered self now posed like lead -
I felt you kiss my silent face
And hold my eyelids fast
To save your eternal child
So I could be a watchman
Once more.
Feb 25, 2013
Feb 25, 2013 at 12:30 AM UTC
Let us lay in endless greens, and symbiotically allow the day
A simple spinning about the omphalos of heart’s creation
I want to feel the rapturous entanglement of our atoms
Bursting in fruition as melismatic chiming sighs
And in this becoming, vernal musings with parameters repealed,
We glimpse an eternal oculus by sapid lips shared
In this essence chased through time and captured by the instance
Your quantum passion yearns toward the receptacle of prophecy
I, the oracle form a forecast in rhythm’s *****
To find that the plexus of forever pulsates beneath your skin and mine
Feb 20, 2013
Feb 20, 2013 at 11:17 AM UTC
Somewhere sequestered in the Baphomet brain
Hemispheres destroy logic while creative bliss reigns
And waning in expression the intellectorus knot forms
Above the neck and below the skull
Choked once more in doubt’s unwelcome swarm
I hitch the rope to Sun’s post and
leap
before
the end
Feb 20, 2013
Feb 20, 2013 at 1:45 AM UTC
The primitive revision,
A sign eastward glistened
Glyphs beyond the walls we
rose in solstice greetings. Listen,
hear the swelling rhythm -
Peregrine crests are where the
seal is written. Our serpent's guile
had the children smitten, and lost in
the cave they're baited and bitten.
Feb 20, 2013
Feb 20, 2013 at 1:33 AM UTC
You are like a paisley sunrise -
A tapestry of gorgeous spirit.
Your sheets radiant with laughter
Are patchouli spiced dances
In the sweltered tunings of cooling dusk.
Now Eros' altars wafting incense;
Sepia backbones stir spectral sighs.
Poised for splendid primal reckonings
Back door brains melt lucid minds
For in fluidity we thrive.
Through eyeing eternity
the prophecy is absolved
By monastic deflection I
Gained what the animals saw
Gypsy moth set your passion in plaster
Metamorphosis looms wherein
Wings strive thereafter
Feb 20, 2013
Feb 20, 2013 at 1:29 AM UTC
Static enough to wane,
my iotas oscillate out
as the last
eye
shuts to dusk.
Dew through a pellucid mind
collected in what was my body's basin;
This whispering pool
contriving my new face.
Where countenance radiates concentrically
Up, up into the Ibis' spacial noise
coalescing Tefnut's will and mine
to ecstasy
as rain.
Nov 20, 2012
Nov 20, 2012 at 8:03 PM UTC
(Mangroves shake the boy
Rapture tempts his will-
He will not eat tonight.
Only blue shades fill
a hole so deep
covered
with
ashes
he
eats
- Himself -
an ardent fill
of bruised light,
like chimeras on
the mantel.)
Nov 20, 2012
Nov 20, 2012 at 8:00 PM UTC
{ Full to brimming madness
A shaded blot of tin
Flumes for eyes
And the fire to fertilize
Croaked behind the wind. }
( Patched of a day's quilt
The moths of aperture
Spirited away the dusk
To the vestal mouse
Whose heart doth thrum sure. )
[ Of extolled breath
Chambered nubility
Did shy to the hand
In which 'twas held:
Invariably. ]
/ In all paintings hung
Bereft of blemishes to sting,
Fibrin inks touching canvas
Evoke the rumbling stream;
The renascence of Spring. \
Nov 20, 2012
Nov 20, 2012 at 7:55 PM UTC