in this
pocketful
        of limbo
          the distance rises
               in curls of smoke
        a prairie fire
siphoning into
crisp edge
           of forest
          Inside my
uncloaked ventricle
primeval forces
turn my blood into
dusted gold
as they pump
        sacred texts
into my oxygen
      They roll your quintessence
upon my fingers,
            playing inside
     my psyche's  
wild ache
a spread of orifice
in spellbound mantra,
       as I spit out
          the
            hairy thorns,
a holy purge of
   internal
        engravings
    
Somehow ---
like a miracle,
I grow ripe seedlings
from deep within
            my womb
as I trip into
a universe rising
I take wisps
of your grace
as it brushes
the jut of my
astral collarbone
You are always
         grounding me
                    like this,
               my tongue
              tripping
         over velvet
stance of warrior
        assuaged into silk
    
        Without you,
I might be
whisked off into
the periphery
of chaos
but instead
       I am simply
tied to
      the urgency
of the little novas
about to
        explode

While I wait
            I tend to
              the wildfires.
     to make sure they
                   are still burning
I keep my honey
wet and fresh
upon your
                   lips,
let my pores
drip moonpools
    into your glistening
wet of mouth
and only when
          it is time
I let the whole of
           me burst
into the
      fire -wrapped
tips of
   stars

If all the beauty of existence
were put within a song
Would it not be
the heart of woman
for it then
to be written upon?

Then all the choirs of Heaven
would sing as one

I might then hear the beauty
of the chorus as they sing
And marvel in amazement
from the deepest darkness
of this lowest place I'm in

So never quiet
an hymn of sorrow
nor despise the tears of joy
For those who
from the darkness
yet remember how wonderful life was

Memories awaken
and hope is again reborn
At that melodious
first moment
of a woman's heartfelt song

Hers is in the singing
as life is once
more renewed
Hers is in the song
as is the Heavens
eternal truth

Yes if all the beauty
of existence
were put within a song
Would it not be
the heart of woman
for it then to be written upon?

-R.

11.22.12
-SC

Sleek dark hair
Highlights of auburn, color of fall
Stern lips
A look of austerity in the dark russet eye
Skin lighter than my own
The smaller wrist
Large eyes
Faint deepening crow's feet
Nursing knowledge
Small, short, slight, petite, and strong
Maternal vanguard
Matriarchal
Beautiful and earthly
Scorpionic elusiveness
Her unused canvas
Frequent Homegoods purchased
Shifts decor in the livingroom like a Feng Shui practitioner
Laughs at the absurdity of modern horror movies
Smells like bath wash and too much perfume
Smells of my childhood
Smells of my innocence
Paperbacks of Hugo and Austen in boxes in the basement
Paperbacks of The Symposium and a biography of Marx in the basement
Secretly likes to cook
Culinary explorer
Gastronomically open
Culinary door opener
Very little circle of friends
Outspoken
Austerity on the small mouth
Austerity in the small mouth
Conviction in her voice
Soft graphite in her voice
Has a lisp sometimes
The slight overbite(?)
Immigrant parent
Unnaturalized citizen
Reminds me of fall
Reminds me of everything
Reminds me of very little at once
Life-teacher, one of many
Protective
Over-protective
Pushy
The way her hand moves on her tablet
The way her voice sounded during a lecture when I was a child
The way she used to hug
Closet full of shoes and clothes she rummages through when she's going out
Meticulous cleaner
The way her voice sounded when she tried to make sense of me
The way her voice sounds
...

Finding a lover is effortless
for some people.
They only want a few things:
Someone attractive, kind,
funny or rich.

But
I desire
something so much deeper.

I want

an intelligent mind
that wakes up thoughts in me
I didn't realize were hibernating.

I want

to converse, analyze and debate
without being conscious of
the sun rising and falling
between our words.

I want

to make a witty remark
at a coffee shop
so he can reply sarcastically
just for me to jab back immediately
and for him to comeback back playfully
until we're both laughing
stomachs shaking
spit flying
the whole store staring
and we leave
without coffee

I want

our hands to stitch together
perfectly
like two lost puzzle pieces;
one found under a couch cushion
one found inside a junk drawer.
The rest of the puzzle has
already been thrown away
but
these two pieces remain
and they fit.

I want

to fall in love together
then together fall in love with
art, museums, songs, poems
T.V shows, radio jingles,
greek food, backroads,
our mutual hatred for pop culture,
doing the dishes (as long as he washes and I dry)
wrong turns, piled up laundry, life.
Just fall in love with life.

I want

to hurt with him

I want

to save the world with him

I want

to meet, see, understand
and experience all that is foreign
with him.

I think it will only take us meeting
and it'll only be history and happiness from then on.

It's just a matter of if a love like that could ever be
and if a love like that could ever be for me.

The ominous waves crash to the shore,
a blazing sun sparkling upon them;
A turbulent ocean cries in ecstasy,
emitting many colors of precious gems.

Blue topaz glistens within its folds,
as cool emeralds land on the beach;
The pearly white of swirling foam,
bubbles and bursts in swift retreat.

But as sailboats float in the distance,
distinct in their parallel scheme;
Our eyes are met with diamonds,
a royal tribute to the dazzling scene.

Soon the afternoon sun begins to set,
spreading all its natural gleam;
And violet streaks reflect upon,
the undulating surface of the sea.

Follow scores of dancing sapphires,
cool and rich as an autumn sky;
Faithfully cruise against the horizon,
capturing starlight within their sighs.

I'd been washed up on foreign shores,
for several hours, breathing shallow;
My hands swollen from the heat,
salt-water and sand I surely swallowed.

With no memory of how this occurred,
I then crawled onto the barren beach;
And lay there alone just hoping for,
someone to come and bring relief.

The sun was setting in crimson and gold,
and around me gulls had taken flight;
I shivered with the cool ocean's breeze,
then softly cried well into the night.

By dawn came the heat of a simmering sun,
my clothes still damp but nearly dry;
I sat up and watched the tide roll in,
and again I heard seagulls' mournful cries.

But suddenly appeared an angelic mist,
and with tender words did comfort me;
My aching head and sunburned limbs,
were wrapped in grace and sweet company.

It was then I knew that heaven was real,
(though often entertaining cynical doubts);
Of ever looking into the face of God,
but somehow was welcomed to His Holy House.

the stars
are a way
the universe
is telling us
that beauty
can be found
in dark places
too

your whispered gentle breath
on which your silent prayer
is hardly heard, is heard,
a poets deep song of love
joining with the Universe
of seen and unseen worlds
your whispered last breath
before you succumb to sleep
is heard in the depths of silence.