(I still hear (your)
Quavering voice,
As if you are yet unsure
Of all you may say..)

..But time flows on,
In only one way..

(And though wistful..
You might never again
Drift near me,
to simply stay..)

Your thighs

As golden Caribbean beaches,

And my lips:

Marathoners.

I could spend
Four hundred
Thousand
Kisses
On you,

And never touch
The same place twice.

Soon after
Her vampire kisses
Injected sweet lust
Into my veins

She peeled apart
My aorta
Like pulled pork

And vanished
With the last fragments
Of
Whatever heart I had.

Time mantles us
in weariness;

years anchored
to our feet.

our souls may ever
soar and dive;

our bodies shall
to dust retreat.

I was born into
This disjointed world,
Already heartbroken;
And given only
Sixty years or so
To reckon therein.

I’m no longer
Allowed to dream
As the children did
Before the war
Cursed them with age and care

Firework nights and
Midsummer hammocks
Swaying in a sultry breeze
Have all been spent
On days doled out
To pilgrims who came
Before me

Swift now falls the hammer stroke
Too soon is spent the day;
Dreams burst forth, but wither soon,
That golden were,
But cannot not stay.

I.
As the bow
On violin
Invite my lips
Upon your skin
And our music play
Therein

II.
Kisses sprinkled
Over her
Hourglass form
Would be
An hour
Well spent

III.
Her teeth naively bite my ear
And I tingle as I hear
‘You belong to me, my dear’

IX.
She strips me bare
With but a glance
Her tongue on her lips
Begins to dance
She pins me down
And takes her chance

Perhaps love is,

at least for us mortal folk,

little more (or less)

than a frail seed

In great need

of good tilled soil and

water and sun

and laughter and fun

and wisdom to know

how desperately

broken we all are.



And maybe

perhaps

given due time and care

Love can bloom

become a real thing

become a summer garden thriving

because love

real Love

is far more than passion and desire

More than a meager

give and take

push and pull

'you scratch my back
I scratch yours';



Perhaps love is

something breathed in

with that breath of divine

that first brought us

up out of dust;



Perhaps Love

is so much more than our emotions

much more vast

than all our oceans

Perhaps love is less about

Caste and height;

Perhaps real love

is an unprecedented delight,

A chance to live right.

I witness the sea and the shore

Their recurrent caress and sigh

I wonder if we too might make

Love as enviable as the tides

i am desperately trying
to gather up every word
carved upon my heart
that only my spirit has heard

i am longing to share
this story flooding in me
but how i fear them all
who won't know what i see

Summer slipped out sometime after midnight;

Left the door open wide.

I couldn’t convince her to stay

No matter how I tried.



Autumn arrives in elegance:

Her own offerings of intimacy;

But my skin still tingles from Summer’s bite,

And all the pleasures she gave to me.

The battle lines are drawn,

I know which side I’m on;

But I wonder to see

When my opponent is me.

She smiled like April

Breaking out of winter gloom;

She laughed with the fervor

Of a sudden shower in June.

In pursuit

          of perfection,

Seldom have I

          also seen success.

Many men catch beauty

with merely an eye.

Few men cherish beauty;

Fewer still wonder why.

You can never
Lure me with lipstick

But a gentle gaze
Leads me astray

I hope you are

A star-gazer

An avid embracer

A rainy day reveler

A countless kiss craver



A cheerful heart
Filled with
Joie de vivre

And for you, I hope,
All these things
I will be

Often,
I wake in the middle,
And at all other hours,
Of the night.

Sometimes,
I hear the joints
Of this old building,
Creaking.

I have to remind myself
It's older than I am;
Likely has more complaints,
But fewer demons.

Here in these words

Perhaps I have shown:

I am but a soul

Longing to be known,

Yet this is no revelation

And I still find myself

Alone.

To be

perfectly honest:

I'll never

consider

you

a regret.

Ah!

Grant me

Cold rain upon my neck,

And petrichor

Within my deep breaths.

I am ****** into

Waking;

Silently screaming,

Furiously shaking.

I am far too old

To remember night fear;

Yet wake terribly quaking,

And am left right here.

Sunlight in your smile

though the world roils in dark;

Starlight in your striking eyes,

Steady and ever stark;

Ask me not to name

the colour of your eyes,

For they are resplendent

(beyond sheer brown or blue)

and strike me with surprise.

Mourn with those who mourn.

How plain.

How right.

For my tears are not meant

To be hoarded and spent

Only on my own heavy sorrow.

And I am not to borrow

The troubles of tomorrow,

For today's are dreadful enough.

Far removed from family,

I flounder:

I fear

I'm failure.

You were the one

I needed;

More than all the fanfare:

The lyrical beat,

Some empty engagement,

Some puffed up promise.

You were the one

I needed.

So I find myself

Famished,

Come the end.

There is a terrible wonder
a childlike mystery
wrapped in the word
'Innocence'

for none of us have;

though once,

we did.

and how haunting the notion
as though even lost Eden
still lingered somewhere
on the edges of our
bitter broken hearts



Perhaps
mine was stolen
about the age of ten

or worse
perhaps I sold it
for bittersweet pleasures,
the foretaste of
everlasting ash.

to never again
know the joy of kindly eyes,
or the incomparable inhalation
of that first breath
when the rumors of the sea
become real
to both sight and lung.



Stolen,
or lost,
or sold,

or very simply removed

through the cruel currents
of terrible time.



Yet:

redeemed;
recovered;
repurchased;

if only I have
the audacity
to put myself aside

and yet come

to the crux
of humanity
and history



with the shameful
significant cry

'forgive me'

I remember laying out
Two stories up
On the roof of your house
In early summer
When the stars burst sudden
And the evenings are yet cool

I remember the stars
Dancing in your eyes
As you saw so much more than me
And you smiled at my wonder
Blowing a kiss to the constellations
Before we hurried back indoors
Shivering

My heart now heavy as stone

and it seems to me

come judgment day

I shall crawl all that way

with it shackled to my ankle

and yet ever be alone

I am not

looking to

kiss a million girls once.



But to

kiss one girl

A million times.

I will not

Strip you apart

As the childhood folly

Of a ‘she loves me,

Loves me not,’

Daisy.

I may beg

To cradle your tender *******,

But if your heart is withdrawn

And your hand is not mine,

Then this is naught

But lust

And such desire is strong

But lastly tastes of dust.

On down the road to Yeosu

Beside Pacific blue

We went with many merry songs

And sought something new

I found myself

At World’s threshold

Screaming out obscenity,

While

God quietly pushed passed me:

‘Pardon lad,
But these folk have need
Of food and rest
And more of less
Of all your proud
Opinion.’

So fools fall silent

At his word

And last,
there was Maria.

Her birth fell outside
the natural timeline of
all the rest of her family's affairs.

She may have called herself
'an accident.'

I could never make that connection.

She was the closest thing
to passion
I have ever known;
aside from childhood nights
beside an indifferent and well-fed fire.

She was terribly shy;

until she

tremulously

handed me (only one) of her keys.

[Alas
I wonder if it was ever
for the lock upon
her august heart.]

But she sang and she danced
and she ever approached me boldly.
She drew me out of myself
and brought me to wonder.

She even whispered with passion,

daring to share with me
her stately dreams.

And it goes without saying
(though I'll write it and lament)
she kissed with such passion.

She was above and beyond
any other girl I ever loved (...few)

Indeed,
I loved her.

I loved her,

almost enough.

You are as the fog to me

From a distance I can see

But as I near

You disappear

Till then I look far behind

To see that you have passed me by

I want to be spring rain,

Dancing gently on you.

I want to be winter snow,

Melting at your touch.

This bed is far too big.

There is no beauty being adored,

No lips being kissed,

No limbs being caressed,

No festive mingling.

I am left with naught but

Lukewarm bittersweet memory.

I remember that night

Your kisses had bite;

Your hand strayed upon my thigh.

You poured over me

All your ecstasy;

I could only accept and sigh.

I suppose

I'm supposed

To be scared;

But how ought I,

even were I  to die,

when I have done

as few men have dared?

A lonely innocence

just beyond

a veil of gold;

wistfully waiting

for frolic and jest,

of steady hand,

lover's lips,

daybreak's promise.

In a dream I sought you

Begging a second chance

Within that dream

You gave me not a second glance




'Perfection failed our first time round,

What do you want from me?'

I never sought from you perfection;

Yet from desire, I'm never free.

I cannot think of you

Without being burned

And I cannot touch you

Without being scarred





Yet to resign myself

To neither

Is to be forever marred

We might have
laughed our way into age,
growing older,
shorter,
wider
together.

Instead,
we parted,
while yet young
and thin
and proud.

Already the leaves are brightening
In bursts of orange and red, and
Swiftly separated from slender branch
To dance across the busy streets,
Where they will lay
Like dimly golden harvest grain,
And soon too the rains will change
Until mornings dawn with
Foggy street lamps flickering;



Gems of the celestial storehouse
Nestle about unwavering evergreens,
And in a moment of earthly quiet,
Whisper the soft echoes of hope, tarrying.

I’ve seen Seoul at night,

From miles high,

Gleaming like a hoard of gold.

But I’ll stick with the countryside,

When I return, when I’m old.