There we were at the beginning of the world
A forest
redwood
bay laurel
A watercourse chiseled
into the limestone of that ridge
opening outward
to the west and setting sun

We were almost under water
through miles, through layers of green

We sat together
listening
as the alto recorder in my hand
played on its own!

A tune that called
a mahogany-voiced bird
to harmonize
A tune
that gentled the sun into the sea.
A tune
that wove together
every instant
of the days we had yet to live

I see you in the stars
Somehow you have been changed
From how the mortal eyes have seen you
Your mouth which used to speak
Of hatred and hope oblique
Becomes a beak without your teeth

Rage was born
But it will die
When its thrown into the fire

A brittle constellation
An ancient observation
You invite your guest to **** them
The poison of your being
These wounds caused by your sword
Let Heracles avenge them

All night
I look at you
Such beauty born from hatred

The knives in your hands
Cannot be be held by wings
Your arms that change until you drop them
The blasphemous skin
And fingers meant for ripping
These are the feathers that replace them

The sound of blood
And ugliness
Becomes beautiful music

Get your **** together, you told me

Au contrare, my dear

Don't you know I am a work in progress?

That the greatest creations are pulled together

over pressure and time

and vibrant explosions of color and light

Heart over mind and honey,

you don't matter

I am made of stars and I shine too intensely bright

Get some sunglasses and go back to physics class...

After so long a journey
The traveler needed rest
So he picked one of two trees -
That was in his eye the best.

Getting off his “Clio”*
He stepped on a flower
Whose color had braved alone
The asphalt of the highway.

From his car he moved away
And faced a trench gaping gray
Which he was unable to cross
To where the water-spring was.

He yelled into the ditch
Trying to get an answer
Only his echo returned
For want of a transfer

Then a scarlet sand rose,
pulled by the small man’s toes,
Jumped right under his nose
Into the chasm with no bottom.

Back to the tree he returned
But the whole site was now ferned -
Rhizomes wherever he turned:
Underground, too, were now the
badlands.

(c) Lazhar Bouazzi, April, 2016

Wishing I could I write a poem for you,
You've been gone 18 years today.
I did find this quote on an Irish headstone
It explains nicely how I feel about you!

Death leaves a heartache no one can heal
Love leaves a memory no one can steal

**Pops I look forward to having a beer with you on the other side of fence!