i.

unwrap me tenderly,
pour your love
like water from a jug,
please me and
harness me,
bring me to life,
beneath your touch.

ii.

tonight the puddles
whisper to a wandering moon,
reflections like onyx in
dreamy pools, the
water’s soft breeze,
a stream of stars,
your love also, the song of a star.

iii.

the last heartbeat
of summer in the
honey light,

after the rain
everything feels
refreshed,
ink pressed to
the water.

iv.

nightingale-free
the breeze
whispers to the
trees,
dark-eyed, its
leaves a rose
on my pillow,
beats an ashy drum.

v.

you pull me to you,
i’m brought to life
by the sound of your voice,
caressing me with
your lips, my back
arched back, my ribs
a dream of you,
monet-reflected
in the night and in your
eyes.

The warm autumn breeze
         scatters the leaves
     like spring  snowflakes
      I carefully hand stack
        them each by color,
              one by one,
           as if they were
          befallen dreams
                     or
      similarly unholdable
               gathered
      garnered memories
                      •
        each leaf touched
             reminds me
       of how many times
          I've had to let go ―
         how many times  
                I've fallen
     without a place to land
   until the winds of change
         drew me back up
               as if I were
   evanescent autumn leaves,
      to be swept away again,
         touched by the spirit
             the true nature
                  of  love
                      • •        
        sown seeds of one love
           bestrewn hopefully,
             thusly cast about
              just as intended,  
   the grain and chaff together,
     sifted by the velvet breath
        of the samsara wind's
              sanguine touch

                     •  •  •
            

  autumn waters ... October 29, 2017

Spend away the world which ye most admire
Demands from thee, nothing but a sole desire
Impress Him, waking midnights in remembrance
For thee, shall thy soul be dipped in fragrance

they’re pouring out of the
woodwork
those pretentious machiavellians
in ailing albino frames
eccentric masked figures
milling about the glow light
like night moths
in a london fog

lunatic gazers
with seeping moles
pinned by frogmen and twine
spider climbers
in hell fire
splitting seams
on the fading
and hideous ink

guards of the perch
stand on hades hand
while monsters and demons
with severed limbs
taunt the condemned
and wanting
souls of the ******

cauldron fire
in blood red sky
silent screams
hack and wheeze
gas lines broken
words unspoken
teetering backwards
in the dark shadows
of a phantom abyss