Her shoulder rose like the moon
above the black velvet of bolero jacket
She took his arm, his eyes--
An apogee
She took the room
in reverence

So slowly
shed the mountains
shed the light
hand to touch their wonder
Gazing after
her noiseless ascent
which never happened
while they watched....

Pearls—
roll against warmth
luxuriating offspring
cool encircling
contents iridesce
their energies’ warning:
Nothing quite that simple
Nothing quite that still

Nothing like the opulence
on the Proud Eve of catastrophe

Pearls—
caught in the lining
of what never happens the first time....

She heard them before she saw them
rip their orbits!
fission her universe!
in the mezzanine of the symphony hall
Pin ball in the Fun House
Bingo bounce
off—
the hardwoods of space....

Universal Theory of Scatter?
Even now I can still hear the clatter
of their round smooth souls
in the doorways of distant relatives

How could I know?
You would condemn me
to find them all?

i.

without words,
boy, caught up in the dark,
brown-eyed boy,

as night drifts,
dark in her clouds.

ii.

a tumbling
star,
leaden feet
sink to earth,

drowning stream...
poured from a water jug
a dark, crackling sky.  

iii.

night's thick opiates
glaze,

unmissable sky
sinks anchor-like.

iv.

slumber-heavy,
dreams carried to the stars,
lost time
stretching like a cat.

v.

boy, sleep sound tonight,
brown-eyed boy,

as night drifts
dark in her clouds.

I can see that light,
      burning in your eyes.
        It burns brighter when I'm around
          and I know you're there
   by your hearts beating sound.
          Like luminescent drums,
     your light beats for me
   and your soul can be heard and seen.
         And **I can finally see everything.

listening as the
                          sea hears the
moon and sun
                    cascading flow or
pulling away
                               melded in
*******
                       tortured ecstasy
creating
                      a thousand words
for every birds
                                eye view

my body giving in
to
                               my mind
my soul somewhere
                                   in-between
silent worlds
                             of unseen eyes and  inward probing

               these neurotic bodies
swaying visceral waters 
                                 deeper currents not
complying  as yet in
                               this cosmic
****** of
                       light & darkness matter & void
                      affecting only the surface
pulling back
                          only waves
pushing them back
                to the ever-changing
shoreline

                       when affecting
only the surface  
                              it appears to
be dull monotony
                           at the beck and call of the
moon's every whim...
                                          oh  
and other orbs play
                    their part with her

but infinitely deeper
                   dramatic ebb and
flow
cannot be witnessed
                          by the seagull's gaze

the thoughts of the soul
                           are faint or nil
in the patterns of
                               vision-mind 

our bodies
                         listening to this galactic
dialogue seethe
                            in stagnant waters
when the mind like the
                       moon is all she
hears
or whatever brings
                          in a stronger
signal

we have taken her away
                            kept her estranged as
mutated cells eating away
                     conformed to the
image of an empty shell
                               of a neutral network
caught in a degenerative loop
                                  
a dense
gravitational pull slowly
                                leading her along
into the vortex of the
                                   absence of light

yet something our minds
                               cannot understand as
yet is developing
                     out of sight-mind   after
the imploding of her
                                  beautiful
mass

after
                  the burning-out of
countless worlds
                                     beyond
even the furthest reach
                               of the poetic
eye

a genesis beyond eden
                     attempting with
greater resolve to
                          orchestrate the divine
purpose of the
                       primeval garden
rearranged
                           and tuned to higher
******* harmony
                                  the new
birth of soul leading
                            body & mind
her voice
              being the gravitational orb
swaying visceral
                     waters and deeper currents
complying this
                              time around.

I held it
That cactus of a beating heart
And I thought it was an honor
Thought the cuts in my palms meant something
Marked me as worthy
And the blood running down my wrists to my elbows
Sealed this bond like blood-brothers.
The tears shed when the needles dug deep
Meant I was chosen
I was special because no matter how much it hurt,
I could still hold on.
Reliable, dedicated, adoring, lasting
Loving.
And when others wanted their turn,
I'd surrender over my treasure
Sometimes ginger, sometimes impatiently forceful,
They would take their turn with you.
But they weren't interested in pricking their fingers,
Or shedding tears over you,
So you'd come back.
And in my slashed, stabbed, scarred hands
With needles still stuck in my skin,
I would cradle you.
Pull you up to my chest and breathe in hope,
Only to sink your spines in deeper
Anchored to me.

I thought the pain was worth it
Thought no one could hold you like I could
Told you I'd wait for you to shed those ****** and spines
Wait for my hands, my chest, to be enough.

But you, cowardly heart that you are,
Will never shed those spikes for me,
Trade protection for vulnerability,
For love.
Nor will you stop from wrenching yourself from my fingertips,
Give up the thrill of a new conquest,
The satisfaction of new blood drawn.

And if it's true,
If it was all a lie,
A ruse to buy you more time, more blood,
And if my hands are not feeding me insecurities again,
Then maybe it's time I put you down
And wash my hands.