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Red hair in my eyes,
Phones that do not ring,
Supper for one, old dishes,
Birds clearly calling to no one,
Moss on a roof, mute sun through
Glasses of wine, not fading voices,
Winds that saunter, sweeping —
Aloof, still pools in a wanton bower,
Fingers unclaimed in the witching
Hours, an abandoned bed watched
Over, slept upon, the sharp creeks
In a silent, boardered old house —
Where no one has simply moved,
The branches in the blanketed yard
Swaying like new dancers so free,
Grey bark that fell at foot of tree,
What will become of me?
Far away, over the monstrous gray summits
As dusking shadows crept stealthily on,
When night had turned stygian
And glow worms had begun throwing flickers of light
Like sequins stitched onto a flowing velvet gown,

When night sky had thus turned
Into a rare configuration of light and shade
When in the west was burning a solitary star
And like a one man army, it valiantly blocked
The advance of infiltrating clouds,

When fledglings cuddled for warmth
Under their mother’s flayed wings
When cicadas were chanting their litany in shrill monotone,
When the breeze whispered sweet nothings in my ear
And autumn leaves in strong gale
Flew about and nosedived into their ebony bed,

When my conscious thoughts evaporated
And I was left to linger in a semi stupor,
I knew a familiar spirit visiting me unsought
With the passion of a lover eager to subdue;
Morpheus with the scent of poppy leaves all about him
      To lure my soul to bliss and chill the heat of weary toil
      By the indulgent grip of his masculine hands

He took me on his wings to uncharted oceans and fairy isles
And finally to his secret chamber for a date
Making me swoon in secreted ecstasy!
Everytime you bring me back from
The shore of infinity
Dragging my soul through waves
Sprinkling foamy stardust on my eyelids.
I open them
And find your shadow more pale
Than yesterday's dream.
You carry my wings
Your shoulders under my feathers
Expand wider than western horizon.
I melt and spread
Like a field of sunny tangerine
On your patient chest.
An ocean that is sweeter than freedom
Deeper than the blues of Pacific.
Words flowing from the pen
Ink creates a story
Sometimes Vivid vision
Deep from within

The moment your eyes past
The words of a fellow poet
You were stung
Never to recover

Love at first sight is not real
Yet here it happened
Given to search each day
Deciding to read what is laid

Your eyes must see
That you cannot express
No reason to hurt
Passions too strong to resist

Pulling away from desires
Brushing them from your mind
Turbulence cannot be avoided
Commitment to another

Reality expressed so easily
Feelings never available before
Does this answer the question
Where do they fit in your heart
Rain falls; licks, and tastes-
drips and drops from contours, traced.
Lightning's lash, electric laced;
anxieties anticipate
but under clouds bears no escape-
and here I find my fury: fate.
Twisted bouquet of buildings placed;
no windows, stares an eyeless face.
Hollowed husks commiserate,
though storm will wash and dissipate.
These diseased dreams lie dead, disgraced;
tombs for what I desiccate,
and blood upon this dead landscape;
but hurriedly, its here I haste
for fear of losing steady pace.
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