I am she
Who compliments and completes
The dream lover and the wish
Made when he is asleep
I am she

Who suffers most
Giving birth, cradling the ghost
Of the crone
Once and always
Sister mother daughter wife

I am she
Who waits through the night
I am she
Who equals the strength
Of his light

See me with your loving eyes
See me more than the tears I've cried

I am she
Who will go with him to war
Not a man but an equal
Both soft and yet hard
I am she
To whom he'll give his heart
I am the tunnel's bright end
I am where
The family starts
The breast that feeds
Small men

I am she
The twin, the Juliet, the goddess divine
I am she
Who deserves the same
In this life
Together in time

I am she
I am you
I am her
I am the one besides
And inside
She is I
The romance in the dress
Patient Partner to the ends
Tiny dancer on the floor
I am
The one that loves you
Evermore.

*(I am
  She.    
  I am
  Yours).

Excitedly I say once,
"if love was a substance,
if only more than
some sort of word, more concrete
if only"

rather than heard
in song made wispy or absurd
instead bold in your face apparent

a freakshow, cirque du taste
such theatrics (once) those lips
the film noir of your thrilling face.

Undeniable you
unabashed like a growth
to the left
a mole on your kind skin
red lipstick puckering miss Monroe
eyes that ooze dreamy

How I always noticed you (once)
saying "Ooh look here, this is love"
pointing to that dot
but i know love is more than
a tiny tiny blemish (Marilyn's coy mole)

once a beauty marked me
with what was quick draw and newly raw
touch with much whirling
such were we
openly exposed to

Love : Effulgent

All things of wealth imbue
matters less now
than the absolute truth

golden glow not many know
what all we felt
suns, dawns, and throne

So wretchedly loudly
made so obvious / where we partook
if briefly donning heaven in our looks

hold on
my arms - keep hold
i say to what was once

love now as heavy as you're letting go

caustic as your doubts
as I remember saying
"look here -- once, this was love"
now just a gesture
where stands my shadow

as I regret
not informing you : "should of kept your eyes open
during the fall
should of kept honest is all..."

If only love to you
was of some real substance

beyond misty hours or
something like
the prose of rain to heartache
empty like open doorways of us before

because

once is now
no more.

I am an eagle with wingspans
Of impossible delights
Who argues with it it's flight

In a sky without the light
Incapable to be free

I am now a ghost
Here reading poetry
It's living years:
A breeze through eyes
Filled with tears

A gargoyle pacifying all fears
Past the night

This is a wish, a kiss, deep
A hopeful sigh
Hands bound, fingers clenched
For Love to deliver me
From here/now
To a place called perfection
Infinitely

I am fish/sparrow
Swimming in the in-between
Looking to always see...

No end to the ends

Sunrise and free.

At times I need
to glance at this

When you go,
I'll think of
all our summers in your smile,

you are so beautiful ...

and as I look ahead
at the times I'll need this
to rout the insufficient days
without you

my eyes will fall on this
thoughtfully
                       A glossy paper memory

You're so perfect ...
                              that smile that's mine
I keep  near & dear

     with me.

*without you.

Listening to the ***** din of Sin

City streets

inside the concrete weight of dark rooms

the window ajar

to let the outside air in

while chain smoking to the Metro sirens'

soundtrack

of harpies' in heels

clucking and squealing

(laughter as sharp as their stilettos)

this & midnight overshadowing

black rubber tires burning on black boulevards

vehicular collisions'

sounds stalagmite, metallic

crunch

against the hum of sleeping traffic

signals

hollow city like a wide amphitheater

with the occasional Harley motorcycle's

thunder

waking car alarms

               a choir of infants' high pitch wailing...


The desert night's sirocco hiss

outside my 2nd floor apt. window

in a dark room

where my silence is a deep listener

and my mind a curious wanderer,

where the walls

not only keep out

but carry every conversation.

in such a cryptic void

a spark is gleaned,

a firefly wisp of an epiphany :

we are not separate

you and I

        city and fly

        burrow and groundhog

        dam and ******


we are unread books in dark rooms

waiting for the absolute truth

we find

in one another

to be known

to be seen


as we recite the past horrors

of loud pains

from a city that strips us numb

our pages open like Window panes

ajar...


no matter how ugly the chapters

we will have known

joy being

held within your hands

the story with you

is also mine /

we are

north & southern

swamp & willow

breath

sultry kiss  

Arriving,

humidity on skin

Sweat the nights awake

Until we're dusk

And it drains the sinew

of screaming city

Steaming shadows

shattering length wise

On bright carpets made of morning

Green grass and still

our day yet written

new

Our flight is departing now...



once a firefly in a dark room

a simple story

                a night sky full of stories.


each light

our eyes touch



fireflies

in dark rooms...

THIRST


Oh hollow Thirst!  

How it drowns life's liquid scenes,

All trenchant memory now

dries the tongue;

When recollection swims with dire aches

In the stomach lingering

Deserts  

once oasis-providence:

              the ease of us

              sifting with the sand

Minutes limpid between caress

Creation our chalice overflows

Quenching in and each other

Love for water

As the hours go touching vastness'

That open us / our heaven's sky :

Illuminating in you

Both assuage and succor...

          But I am drought and man

          Flesh heavy / crawling through

         War's searing hills

         Chafed of what made me fearless . . .

         A Traveler discarding haste,

Still Thirsty for those palm trees’ shading moments

Still just pictures of bodies felt

and yet still feeling.


It is as though an affliction’s game

To wait

Between search and weaning

No swift elixir

I am just a bare tree leaning

praying for love's rain...


This Thirst is deeper than remembering

The drink that once was Us.


.  .  .  .

HUNGER

Halcyon: bathing in your adoration,

Nothing so sinful, or miniscule, as to need

Redemptive rinses and the spirit

When we were

As what we only knew how to be

Ourselves yet together sharing feasts


Which we lay out for each other

Ceremonious only through having its discovery

Knowing to trust in this (which is between us)

Oh How to feed the hunger I have longed for

Softer than the dew on skin

When we have the outdoors with our mischief

Attentive as the grass when we look within…



These eyes that pierce me now

Understanding / how my breath shivers

With the slight tips of tender fingers

Through a body famished and weakened,

Needing

The food from in between kiss and spark

On a smile that shares heaven’s glee

In each other’s sensations, feeling the answer

Rather than being told to eat



Reverie of wines tasted, the lifting of all things

To a memory, yet not having the full course

Of dining with serenity, finding that destiny

Has yet to begin

When love was the race I was questioning

Kind supposedly human

And dreams came true with happy endings?



Hunger can make the world seem cruel

When we give up on searching for meaning

We ourselves make

The feast from meals

with our believing …

To be without you

Means nothing to want

Attention.

Seems I'm jaded...

My eyes are Abyssinian

Searching for red laser

Point

On the walls,

On pedestrian faces,

And none will ever

Ever do.

But to be without you

Means I am

Nothing.   Wanting  

Attention

Nothing     Wanting

You.

Are you in them rivers

In these herds?

These lakes of

                     Lips

Kissing the silence of melancholy?

Means nothing

To want

Your poetry

Feeling much much more

Than

Pedestrian.

I am a kind word uttered and repeated
By the voice of Nature;
I am a star fallen from the
Blue tent upon the green carpet.
I am the daughter of the elements
With whom Winter conceived;
To whom Spring gave birth; I was
Reared in the lap of Summer and I
Slept in the bed of Autumn.


At dawn I unite with the breeze
To announce the coming of light;
At eventide I join the birds
In bidding the light farewell.


The plains are decorated with
My beautiful colors, and the air
Is scented with my fragrance.


As I embrace Slumber the eyes of
Night watch over me, and as I
Awaken I stare at the sun, which is
The only eye of the day.


I drink dew for wine, and hearken to
The voices of the birds, and dance
To the rhythmic swaying of the grass.


I am the lover's gift; I am the wedding wreath;
I am the memory of a moment of happiness;
I am the last gift of the living to the dead;
I am a part of joy and a part of sorrow.


But I look up high to see only the light,
And never look down to see my shadow.
This is wisdom which man must learn.

288

I’m Nobody! Who are you?
Are you—Nobody—Too?
Then there’s a pair of us!
Don’t tell! they’d advertise—you know!

How dreary—to be—Somebody!
How public—like a Frog—
To tell one’s name—the livelong June—
To an admiring Bog!