she's netted her butterflies.

fixed them with wicked eyes--

to wing her moods in shifting

patternized colors.

feasting on head-heavy flowers,

her pouncy perfumed admixtures

of charms.

leave nature sloven with desire...

when she embodies her spell.

the

dissociating smiles

of pumpkins

trade steps out

of hell--

as white cats lick

the odd pumpkin seed

left from the carve.

there's bluejays mauling

black cats in a shrill shred

of music prone to a cool

wind.

while blackbirds light candles

to haunt condemned houses.

i like the extra layers this

time of year...

so your bones get to stay

in bed...like saints all day.

life is a ceaselessly

smelt flower...

enfolding wither

to its scentless

core~

as nature herself would, you

sit at your power spot open

as a birthing womb.

you float out of yourself and

witness from above.

that precious little girl handing

it over to that immeasurably

beautiful woman.

birds are dying to land on you,

but scare at the last moment

as you adjust your position...

on what the future may hold.

in the throes of an empath's

kriyas, you spill the cup so the

earth may drink.

the petals of your consideration

can cut a diamond's...reflection,

refraction and dispersion.

that ennobled kingdom that dances

around you, an aura someone of

like aura is fusing with.

about the blade--

continually fished out,

lying limply in the

hand when out of its

element.

taking an unsuspecting

stab at breath, there's

so much of so much in

there, how not?

as what kills prefaces

what's worth killing for...

all that gluey light stiffening

with a count that's lost.

to be a good human being,

is an excruciating simplicity--

few make look easy.

though rather doggedly...

these eyes dole out their

encouragement: just try, just

give it a try.

then watch the feet move.

Aphrodite carried me--

my vessel floated in her belly.

growing eyes to see as she sees,

growing a heart to feel as she feels.

life made a permanent vision,

my mother set before me.

as gold in all its precious paleness--

begins and ends by beauty's word

shy of her.

when she let me out of her--i was the

essence all essences crave.

they desired after me, so i began to gather

them--in honor of my mother.

i am Eros...and my only desire is to fulfill

yours.

art.

state your

being.

thru & thru

me.

i give myself

to you.

like a homeless

whoremonger.

all i can do is

enter what i have

coming to me.

as if it never

happened.

never the mercy

of water--

on fire in full.

not once left half burnt.

feral child of the sun.

burning mouth--

why do you eat me so?

as the question begs

shamelessly.

over and again--the

ritualistic leavings of ash

for pale morning to fall upon.

to stand my burning ground--

desirous of what you've reduced to

nothing.

a fine brittle black sickly sear smear.

thus i mark my forehead...

till dispassion be learnt.

as a moment desirous of remaining

that which does not pass...

a sigh staying its soft statement.

how parallel the poetry, a bird's

sky.

a sky's bird warming up to the

idea of August.

scented blazes of grass put out

by darkening robes that leave

less of day.

the ever present sensitivities of the

gradual...spelled out and translated

more boldly.

there's so much going on as usual, i

have silence in my ear telling me she

wants to spend more time together.

a blue whale's

eye sloughs ocean

water.

as the limitless rain

that skied it open.

sleep comes slowly for her...

like a death willing to hear

her out.

it is in that intimacy she begins

the excruciating withdrawl

from the body that two made one.

i can feel her, and have sobbed so

hard broken lights pierced the

darkness.

winter's

a

thing of

bone...

whose

ground

refuses

burial.