dark as the night
beautiful as a storm
your love,
a rose sweeter than
the sky
my everything
and nothing,
my live wire,
my shooting star.
touch me so i feel
alive, unwrap me
tender and warm
bewitch me with
your kiss until i
melt into the air
in the metals of a
sleeping world
gather me like
a flower, fly to
me like a bird.

i.

water-born,
the dark skies of the lily,
its song of petals
and gauze.


ii.

unwrapped and
white,
rushing in
streams of
bending flower,
ghost of a blue star.

iii.

ghost of a tender night,
calling out to a misty sky -
the breath of a star -
light spaces, stormy opals,
tranquil air.

iv.

sweet flower of
the dusk,
gathering the
glow of the lake,
gathering its
honey’s and frosts.

v.

below brooding clouds
that drop their tears
like heavy dew,
the lake deepens
and whispers,
carries its grey mask.

She decorated her soul with dreams:
the kind that can't be stolen,
not even by the inexorable march of age
which eventually robs you of yourself.

Her love was a massacre;
savaging everything in it's path,
but with a beauty that you forgave her
before she apologized.

Her eyes were lilly pads,
and her voice
was the crunch of snow underfoot,
and while you couldn't believe that she could be hurt
you knew from the moment you met her
that you'd be her unneeded Don Quixote

She had lips that tasted,
like the scene in that movie
that you'd fast forward to get to.

She'd roll through things
whirring by
all brutality and lace.

I'd paw at her in the autumn night
searching for her warmth
looking for her love.

I wanted to write it on her back
(everywhere you go, -
I am going to be your man.)

I wander through the irreplaceable night
waiting for the grey vagueness of dawn.

It isn't always so complicated;
the deepest things are simple at their root.

When the wolf wanders into the valley
does she hesitate at the fork?
Does she wonder about the untrod path,
or just stick to the banal evil of normal?
She prods at my kidneys with her nose,
hesitates, smells the remnants of Florida,
and trots onward, not looking back.

It's second nature to love you,
but first to see my wrongs.
It's easy to miss things
in the new darkness of night.

She awoke in the clouds
bright, light, and ethereal.
her cheeks the color of...

The April breaking dawn -

To chase the sun through the desert
one must follow the wild horses,
but the dust gets in your eyes.

It's hard to truly see that land;
the barren plains are the other -
they are not the absence of life.

I thought it easier to find-
her in the city amongst
the soulless testimony there.

One could see her in the darkness,
her love gentle like a lone doe
in the vagueness of the morning.

Her name boomed wise like thunder
reverberating sublimely
all around the rain scent lingered.

I know where I put them        
that small pile of lovely
underthings
in the back of a drawer
Stuffed away
from my every day
not fit nor fitting
anymore
for an evening
or...

Can't bring myself
to throw them out
Hope is something
you just don't...

'Cause ya never know
when life might pick you up
spin ya round
where it left off
so long ago--

or something like...
that

But anyway--
I came across them

...on that first  
truly warm day of spring
splayed across the mountains
of New York on my way back to PA

Driving through those
Scalloped edges not quite yellow
shy of green
Lace in layers
close to shedding heaven
or from storm's
oblique winds shredding 
that sheen on the foothills
from the humid cool
of earlier that day

Spring knows
right
where she put them

Spring knows exactly what to do
with golden light
...and songs'...
preposterous possibilities
of bloom

Frothy silver
creeps amid the white
reflecting light
in every threaded islet
between the mountains' stream
of silk voile
sheer
and overlain mauve and pink
Those French knots and ribbons
thrill the edges of the road
reaching through the heated veil
longing for the gauzy air
Dogwood hands
sooth the swelling
clouds
above—so pleading—

Please...

to touch that dark
of naked woods
below

...where I left them

...apparently

i.

spring's grey moons
everything is still
the hush of the skies.


ii.

first new buds
white cloud of hawthorn
morning's broken ghosts.

iii.

strengthening sun,
iron and feathers sky,
bird like a speck.

iv.

blue edge of sky
sunlight on flashy wings
empty world.

v.

clouds of drowning white
blowsy sweetened breeze
tall grasses sway.

vi.

last winter gust,
shadow on the earth
song of the rain.

vii.

surreal morning tide
hurrying wave
kiss for my love.

viii.

sea-spray hits a sail
anchor lowered down
ropes thrown to shore.