I judge best in front of a mirror
eyes wide open
the best light shining from within
I see everything
as long as I don't blink
There is but one perfect being
and it is not me - it will never be
Jun 3, 2016
Jun 3, 2016 at 10:05 PM UTC
I will wait
until the last star
abandons the universe
(the one you named and pinned as sequins from Cassiopeia's ankle)
I will wait
until the sky
becomes one with our earth
and the seas, no longer moved by the moon's woo extinguish her glow
The sun
will shed in solar rage
and die next in the crushed heart
of his moon's last breath
Before then
I will not forget you
May 27, 2016
May 27, 2016 at 3:59 PM UTC
*If you are going to leave me
please don't tell me
Leave me on an early Thursday morning without sun
Draw the curtains shut
let me wake seeking your face
and think you've taken another of those strolls
you like to take alone
I will stay in bed grateful
that summer is months away
Perhaps when sunlight in July pierces my eyes, you would have found your way
and climb back into bed
where I drink life without sugar, black
one sip at a time*
May 20, 2016
May 20, 2016 at 3:39 PM UTC
My frame fits your frame perfectly
you hold me into meekness
into mutual surrender
and whispers claim the soul whole
without hesitation
My body heeds to your wants
following you into unconditional yeses exchanged in a kiss, as the night enfolds our unspoken ascent unbroken, exhausting each limb
releasing the weight of our soul in synchronized breaths
Exhale
grant me the promise of my next breath as I take in the strength of your gaze and return ever so light to the grace of your arms' embrace
May 18, 2016
May 18, 2016 at 10:53 PM UTC
* I feel the end in your embrace
A never type of forever where we both become the water we drown in
Its not the kiss that leaves me reeling it's the taste
And the dust that becomes the stars that set
Is the dust that makes us as we rise
We are the morning, even in our twilight*
I fear no end in your embrace, the kiss of young stars on our lips will fall
and burn this love into our sky
the fading light will bind our souls when all the suns have set
May 17, 2016
May 17, 2016 at 11:04 PM UTC
I am thinking of the dead
who are still with us
on their way in the rain
to meet lovers or brothers
and my sadness waves back
like grain in the fields
of lost summers and summers
before that, fireflies in the dark
still young and beautiful
like starry nights, but for them
there is no moon, and for us
the same news we do not receive.
May 17, 2016
May 17, 2016 at 2:47 AM UTC
And I can pretend
the heart to mend
that it will one day undig itself
from the burrows of sadness
left by the loss of all the could have beens
what almost was
I can pretend that it will
heal itself, beat again reborn
without the want for warmth
that fills the burrows weighing it down
stopping it
in the time of promises lost, but to love's eternal doubt
I can pretend the pain will die
there, where the heart lays contrite waiting for the calm of night
to absolve its missteps
to redeem it from the stillness of a prayer that without sound
will never carry
that without light
will not deliver it from
darks of truth
I can pretend
I can only pretend
that we were all, each other's all
and that a lie is alone enough
to mend
May 17, 2016
May 17, 2016 at 2:23 AM UTC
"The sea cannot be his, cannot be his. The sea cannot be his."
He woke up on her side of the bed, an echo pounding down deep in his head. "The sea..."
He reached for the bottles he kept within arm's reach - as he struggled to twist off the first cap, his key keeper knocked on the door before walking in a breakfast tray elegantly arranged. A feast for two.
Although by now the knocks had become mute, this one was as different as yesterday's, carrying the sound of hope. A flash flood of memories filled his head. He thought of what he would say only to drop the bottle of pills, cursing under his breath as the door slowly opened.
His heart bled a little bit. The room darkened - the pound in his head returned bringing him to a rage of black tears. He tasted salt. It burned more than the tip of the tongue, corroding his pride before clinging like oysters to his vocal cords, blocking his airway.
His keeper entered the room in goose feather gloves and goose feather shoes - setting down the tray, she picked up each pill from the floor and bed and pointed to a letter-sized envelope sitting on one corner of the tray. "This one came early this morning."
He picked up the envelope, held it up to the light of the keeper's eyes and then brought it to his nose. Taking in more than a few breaths, he fell asleep.
The sea...
He sat on the rocks of Gibraltar. He crossed the sea with his eyes before resting them in the dim light of the old light house.
Breathing in waves, exhaling seasalt and fear, he opened the envelope and began to read.
May 4, 2016
May 4, 2016 at 12:38 PM UTC
Poetry is life in motion , a Niagara Falls of words , a super nova of emotions , cradled on the infinitesimal lines of creation .
May 1, 2016
May 1, 2016 at 2:56 AM UTC