The scrimshaw of the air, the long whales-tooth of sunlight
Etched with seafarer’s care and his great wantonness for the sea,
A kiss as light as the bottlenose dolphin cresting from the water,
Then night undressed and falling down like sliding beads of watery stars
From the wet coriaceous porpoise skin and a tail of silver fire.

and when you said
laughter is like a foreign language
i imagined that i was
teaching you how to
speak it

the temples built of gold, silks finely spun,
a song of palaces in babylon,
where mede's daughter pined beneath the sun,
for mountain streams and hills to walk upon.
before the persians let the city fall,
great babylon held asia to the east,
the hanging gardens near the mighty wall,
their history told by an ancient priest.
if herodotus added to his tale,
he lent to grandeur with a poet's tongue,
a vision by euphrate's winding vale,
the river flowing where his story sung.
nebuchadnezzar built to please his queen,
to bring her trees and vines of verdant green.


amytis - daughter of king medes.
king nebuchadnezzar 2nd - built the gardens
herodotus - greek historian from ionia.

where love is,
everything of my heart,
the earth breathes in
deep sorrows or red,
moving like a winter
cloud, burning ashes
like moods, sweeter
than the yellow roses
of autumn.
drift into me, sink into me
until i am a rose of the sky.

with their beautiful
yellows and blacks, turning
lion-hearted faces to a
southerly breeze, eyes
focused on the sun,
wedded to god and light,
their suns, a river of
dream,
their moons, the
thin drops of water
hanging on them
like rain on a stain-
glassed window.