Love is the exquisite pain
The poetry of sultry rain
in unison with our breathing
Fogging the windows

Before the hollow siroccos moan
cold grey lonely
Hallways dim
Velvet  Sorrows
Blackened
Walls of the new moon
void of our lungs'
illustrations

Even now in memory's whisps
How exquisite the frame
Picturesque recollection
Polaroid for the finality of farewell

Just us / ghosts now
Without / but dust / once was
None-such eyes / dilates
Can emptiness be
Felt
En flagrante glaciers
Enflamed diminishment?

Seems the loud moments remain

Drowned the reasons of its thundering
All intentions deigned since
Defeated slump with
No dire aches
Mumbling
       a corpse heavy mind
Lacking a fleet of feeling to combat self hateful
Blight

Gone in the gloom
Which is palpable like the taste of smoke
That carries warning signals to the sun
     with the ****** of native drums
Going
Gone
            will o' whispering past

Yet shadows are forgetful in dreams
As we are sleeping to wake
In the beams

Memory echoing from touch
Our bodies quake...
Inspired by much
Hearts rush

And still the loudest feelings remain
An old painting in its frame

Our art as body paint
heaven pouring in
You and I remain
Born not made

(To make)
Love our loudest moment :

Canvas to frame/
A window and the rain...

A hawk is hatched

in the harlequin hush

inside the walls of library books

in their incendiary shelves

incline

invitingly

in carnal stories

in words that leave us billowing smoke

in scenes of innuendo...



A bird of prey in flight

even in a stationary perch,

he is a glorious sight

eyes full of limpid thoughts, & search,

levitating litany

like taboo

thrown across the room

questions and detours

from his gaze

uphoric pheremonal *****...



My ***** is

in a penury of vigor,

my skin / proving red-rushed

weaknesses

for just his adonis sight

for just one fantasy night...



The humid walls,

with their olden and unbiased

silences

attend my quickened qualms

attend my entirety of suddenly

needing

to be caught in his talons' violences

craving

to be the meal ~ in a hawk's sight,

flesh ripped in lushious strips

to be inside his mouth,

to feel

my digestion...



We match growling stares,

feel the quicksilver pulse,

hesitation and realization

the super nova flares

heating my middle,

hardening my fiddle

creating new sensations

and worlds of wicked inflections

a warm nest

to rest, after the S

                         E

                         X...



A nervous breath,

as he stands

abducting his hardbound knowledge

odyssies in exquisite arms

a twinkle in his *******-brown eyes

a pause, for crumbs to be sprinkled

on the path to reprise,

a piece of paper with a numeric surpise;

a name:

"ANGEL" flashing collegiate goods,

an endangered understanding

a naughty smile--a young mouth,

and i am a V-formation

heading for warmer south...



A hawk is hatched

from the harlequin hush

of the Flamingo Library,

i am ready

to fly beyond loneliness and February,

catch urgency's godspeed to Angel

in the tradewinds of our testosterone

his invitation scribbled on a corner piece of notes

i am guessing / i'm in control

i am the words unspoken

in these pages, in dusty scrolls

in the volumes on the walls

our endangered understanding


If he is there and nothing's there...

still must follow my volcanic hopes meandering

so to speak that entangling

his and mine / tongue...


how like a hawk in Spring

i am sprung...


(and understanding
how endangered I become)

Get in a last word, since silence is golden,
then in the end all that is spoken
betrays the honest truths
the value of sharing a meal
sustenance to feel
fulfilled, now that talk is cheap...

Be more profound to take me aback
like a gust of wind through hallowed doors
to the hollows of burial and sage and prayers
where subservience of love
denies the body of its flesh
to please the ephemeral ghosts...

yes, tell me how deep your adoration's lashes
if all the deserts we've traversed
meant as much as the time of my worth
will it bleed--those words for me?
Are your words as bread or food
uplifting in the roots of you?

I am no shepherd nor are you a herd of sheep,
a flock unable to fly without a mind to think
I am just another king like  any like you
the last word at the rabble
a dying flame from the candles drinking wine,
beneath the sky of olives and infinite eyes
here with the stain of un-seeing
in search for a well that will not dry
for a familiar day of kind of rain...


Tell me what's a good word without one
made   by ****** hand of man,
one that is like music / laughter
a celebration's feast
teach me instead,

and please don't preach...

What worth is made when words are bade
like a trader of slaves to whom he's paid,
or a master in his own house at a maid?
Such business is moot in its absolutes,
                 a kiss on the cheek without a word
multiplicitious and astute
obvious in the eyes of company kept
                  brother in the dark I heard wept

A tree in shadows hangs the rotten fruit

Ananke
dangles like most words must do
from the mouth must taste as dung
often done -- invisible daggers to the heart
untruths
then less and less of brotherly caress

nor some kind of familiar can be found
no infinite wonder

the one and only one

You,
whom I have been
preparing to be made new,
to wake from the pain of this blister
these mirages we hunger and run to,
don't speak what I want to know
I already have seen the final show
and words are only words
unheard by the deaf heavens
selective with their ears to cherubs glee
what is found when the One above
or any of the many stars that see
our globe in desert blizzards,

ill regard as plenty as snow
nothing of the kind, or good in kind,
what word equals

the image of everlasting
Oh
just a sip ...?

There are only so many words
in a universe of infinite light
language can be made like jars of clay

simple like breaking (of hearts and day)

if eyes were speaking through our tears
how loud must we shout "Love"
before there's nothing that's enough
to keep us thusly
home not just merely
an EYE to clear / and still, I am
with you                                         here.

Push away the old world words
that once poured into my cup,
I want home to be as heaven is esteemed
take this cup away from me
blood of transcendant poetry...

Vegas heats up in these idle lungs
Summer weekends begin their urges / a dirge
like a roar of blood in the ears, no anticipation dwells so
not even those addictions we've reasoned to be just
or justified as youthful relief...

I sit as still as the neon blinking through drab curtains
can allow / without obsessing into a tick / a nervous twitch
The lumps on this bed, like ghosts
from forgotten trysts, seem to jab / to escape /
even when sleep attempts to drain itself from the body
due to the lack of it.

It smells vaguely familiar of 2000 flushes
and ashtrays with liquor stains
hurled from mouths overfed with parties and past
indiscretions / guilt / scattered
on the carpet, and in the corner
reminds me of our foolish frivolity / heavy with loss

hope, laughter / shapes and shadows
in that corner where you vomited
while tears and self realizations of mistakes
chuckle at the face of its absurd truths,
followed by a blank stare...

Your face in its tracks of saline depths
like a painting of twilight rites of passage
which we had to burden in bewitching hours
before the sun / sobering with early light
those times we diluted and ache for still

As I recollect in the hush of a motel 8
drunken neighbors with their sounds of *** / taboo /
echoes our lost twenties
learning to live by fine emotions - secret messages
from inner devils and Mormon Jesus

washing over us / growing up, by latter saints
losing days to nights / so doubtful and wretchedly alive
in the uncertainty of our pages yet to turn
searching for sage & celebration./
losing our true selves with every high...

I sit in this motel room
wretchedly alive / in and out of neon lights
trying to find a good emotion / some worth
staring at the corner shadows of you / vomiting
messages that I only now dematerialize
from sobs lost to the echoes

laughter still to tweet or fly / to the cloud
to oblivion and memory's burrow
I sit in the heat / still unfeeling / now
before dawn, the hours hollow
many a people inside / out there in this city

Still wretchedly in denial
not one will bother me to pity
a life like a motel room
by the hour / we abide by its tune

the hollow breathing of time
the real currency / their ivory tower.
my heaven seems malnourished without
looming over / where's the wonder?

In the distance, far from home,
I sense the arrival of falling skies
Father's angry thunder
even in the false safety of dark rooms,
while we hide
we all will shudder...


(It is not a home if lived in alone
and death occupies both my shoulders)

Friday night space lights,
as we caress the hours,
streaks across the sky.

"I Have A Dream, one day..." - MLK


What preferences did the shackled legs,
the whip gashed backs,
sister-child maid wife
what favorite tastes or memorable tune
did have
those seen as a lesser you?

Far African kingdoms without the murals
or architecture of mathematicians,
or the pomposities of golden circumstance,
no gilded marble halls or pillars
or streets of cold stones
no fashions for the sharp nosed
pallid under parasols
caricatures of indifferent beauty,

rather the abducted men from the other shore
have a realm as fine to witness
if not much more
cathedral ceilings of heavens
ever shifting in days and darkness,
diamonds not found in ****** muddy ground
as priceless and as pure
the wealth not considered but conditioned filth
the wilderness and otherness
abhorred,
the living landscape the abundant beasts
giants of profound creation
gentle and danger - not found but there
the expanse of hot suns' earthen bones
and further back beyond history
these mirages shimmering walls
of palaces that have wind and width of awe
for its halls...
What infant legs that ran with cheetahs
offend, the native cries along the chains
die with the weight of loss
not yet found - the kingdom of suns

the people removed of their crowns

made to hate and sold and laid to waste
ever the more thirsty then
in the wooden boon of ships
on oceans cannot drink.

What choice or gift of eloquent conquerors
allows another a life not lived?
And still ... this kingdom that is the life
we all see
creates from shackles the blues
everything new, no matter how often
the iron grip of times they ****
or assassinate the truth

We can always choose to see
the palace walls of heavens' surrounding kingdom
make soul and food and love
and hip hop

When freedom is absolute
the preferences or favorites once missed
will be no more a hollow well
when life is as equal to the  minds we share
and the times without fear

the lines will blur
because there is nothing more between us
to cross ...


(we all are rich when we have choices
to be free is to raise our voices)

I DREAM

Sleeping mind lovelorn,
wishful pining for the truth,
hoping vividly.



A DREAM

To keep promises
enthusiastic as war,
men at last needless...



IN SLEEP

cradled in silence
a loud mind coelesces
with the universe.

The impetus
Of being
      Always on the run
               Through pinwheel eyes
                              Those standing by
                                          The mystic roadway

                                     River

Blues yet to be brushed
                           or in blush
                           Of evening chill's breathing
a canvas like windows dreaming felt

All mindful
And chockful O'
                          Wonder
Then ponder
           Yonder "window breaks"
                         Past the wilderness' sleep
Bone heavy wood
                             Umber earth

         Past the rush of liquid

Folding in itself / as a soundtrack
                         Listen
      Pedestrian be
Mindful
                   of the cautionary whales
                                                  Ahab's yell
                                  Obsessions
                           Fears
                      Or loathing

One's drowning in one's sleep

Look wildly widely
                              Blithely
                                    Down river
                     Or up there beyond finger's point
                                   Sidewinder snake journeys
                                                  Until sky and below it
                             All meet
The distance

Now only a line
                      Coalescing what is beyond        
   Our ability to see

               Far and away
Evanescent
       Effervescent
                Ever after      
                             River. Life.
Do not leave...

And
here
               We are now
                            The spirit fluent
With the rapid rivers loud
                            Always on the run

Currents like a child's curiosity ...

When or why does it end
                Where do we go?
                    
Like most things existing,
                              Will lead to the high art / love's deep oceans
           We often forget to seek
And mind
                                     the sublimations ...
                                                            d­riftwood.

Begin with a dot, a line
                     A speck of dusk
                     A burst of light
                                        A starry sky,
pieces to mastery
                   Raging fragility of water
Liquid undulations  
                    Folding itself in / volumes
Or falling from on high
                    A droplet cry
Then lightning
                   (crash or bloom)
From the heavens
                                       like electric rivers
So brilliantly
                   Festoons

Where do we go
       There and here / underfoot
                   Over north / southern sleep
                                To oceans twilight deep
Go wrapped or map-less
Or no
            Up yonder
There up there
                       Everywhere
                                    All without fear

My heart like the river yearns
                 To go toward the sun
                       A flow / the beating drum
Always on the run...

And
           Yet
                   Still
                            Here.

                                                          ­                                             RIVER.

Remember when
every touch
      with all its intention
was a kindness
      Tender like our lips
      at first kiss,
deeply
in one another's eyes

      seeing with feelings
      discovery past the weight
      of fevered flesh,

a dervish flight
through those walls
      layered with doubts as heavy
      as the stones
we now turn our hearts into...

Remember when
every word
      was lovingly spoken

uplifting wisdom
like feathers, wings:
      the soft music of our mouths

      when life is floating
lanterns
and we briefly are a/part
you still have me
soar...

And when we're finally as one
whole, a hearth warm,
and ****
      those wet silences
      become undulating music
                      the times we demure
our mouths still drinking, singing
instilling lessons
      within depths : the heart's thirst

which only absolute certainty
      calms and quenches...

keeps alight and so on
carrying on
      knowing tomorrow will come
      yet when I'm with you
I am new...
even in the dark
your star is born.


Remember when
in the break of morning
      when eyes open from trenchant sleep
      (better than adrift or hollow)
remember how stunning the view

      inhale surprise to waking life's wonder
a/part as the wars pain and riot

fearlessly I say
                depart and drink
the rain
         freedom love
sky and eyes
         will awake...


And if we have yet to meet
since I know
      Truth and believe in Love,

when I fall for you
      Thank all the heavens, vast
I fell for you
                                              I will fall up...

Because I remember
now
it's you
      Lovely      loving       love
who fills my very cup

floating in the drink
of us.

*(God how I love you.)

I will follow you
and call it love
     to the edge and the ends
of our earthly bed
by your pipers' song
trusting your will : my blindness
because I do not fear

your Love.

Teach me and lead as a shepherd would
my own wisdom bleats
      no depth nor words worth hearing
since speech belittles the lesson
and removes much meaning

the gifts that Love gave

Pull me forward and away
to awe instead of weep
the heavens in your embrace
where there is no place for doubt
no panic but for the grave...

I trust that I must matter
even as a speck of dust
you carry me through winter
to rainbows
reminding me that

All is One (Love).

Even as I wallow in the hollows
of no self worth
you mean to me as I'm meant to be
since time was given birth
the golden truth
the Light of you

Though I'm a speck of dust...

Flooding tears upon the eye
no worry
or boundaries
No bleating cries

There is no Falling
when you, my love, are my every
sky.

LIGHTYEARS

Space is Time is Light
it's speed can measure ages'
infinite distance.



ROADS

Where choice begins
some are quick to find its end
wise keeps journeying.

Broken pieces shape
the Cathedral of your soul,
stained light still shines true.