An envelop of darkness
Draws in quiet.

There is a sweetness
To the silence,

To the chorus
Of sleeping children

Humming away
Hymns of brighter tomorrows

And far-away dreams
That shield them from aged lines

That once-upon-a-time
Plagued their fathers and mothers.

And oh, there will be
A time for them too to grow old,

But I will take solace
In the fact that even

As we grasp for words and songs
To grip our smiling pasts,

There will still be nights like this:
Full of silence and God and poetry,

And swinging songs of self and serendipity,
And quiet mornings wrought just

Light enough by street lamps
Which hit pavements like bits of gold,

Waking the dew and painting our grounds
Smooth and bold.

I give you a word
And press it to your ear like kisses.
This is the nature of poems
That they tremble in the flesh
Like fireflies fading too soon.

I give you a word
And press it to your eyes like laughter
After the nature of sun-glow
Dazzling Damascus wonders
Like the meridian at noon

I give you a word
And press it to your heart like honey
Funny the nature of speaking
That can frazzle the nerves and sparkle
Like skyrockets chasing the Moon.

I will give you a word
And press it to your tongue like thunder
Under the nature of breathing
That flutters in your registers
Like an old song without a tune

I give you these words
Will you give me your ears
And your eyes
And your heart
And your voice

Again the dark morning...

This is my time
Before the rub and pace of life thickens to frenzy;
With hope like starlings murmuring in my blood.

Nothing happens.
The soul is reappointed
that is all.
These feelings feed me with their grace.

“In the beginning was the word…”

Maybe…

but Is not being first
With words following after like a beggar?
There are so many things before the word
And more again before the stumbling tongue.

Yet this is where I spend my stillness;
Somewhere after the dawn of time
Sometime before the birth of being,
Where substance hasn’t quite existed yet.
Here I search for words.
Here,
In the melting,
I touch the new made voice of God

The blessed bright being of dawn
with all its fevers yeasting
into the fermentation of day.
The light rising beyond the window
speaks to me of intimacy and wonder

So I dance my words along your flesh
as feeble fingers trembling at your skin?

So I anticipate your anatomy
beneath these lisping lips
and gather the taste of you
into my adventurous mouth?

So I tangle my tongue
with tease and tensing lips
tingling in all the levered arches of your body?

Look how the words tumble wrinkles in the screen
as sure as sheets
beneath the hunch and shy of shoulders
echoing the lap and splash of waters
kissing at the shore.
Safe in the sound
the sweet water salt of your harbour
to taste and savour the blessings of ecstasy.

I conjure these words to wake you
like the early morning sky aching to be alive;
to run a ribbon flush of goose flesh
like rivers in your limbs

Can you feel all the world
like the rioting race of rushing ******;
feel the mad blistering hammers of the sun
with the same pure moment
of daylight kissing the earth?

Memories fade to susurrus.
Dusk cast shadows rise the temple wall.
Amber skin, maternal fields,
Upon soft abdomen, his ear falls.

Below the peel of empyrean,
fruit of a woman,
brave the man who clings the rind,
But braver he let’s go in time.

Saccharine, she whose taste is closest
to touch the Beloved’s face.
Pressed he hears her oceans howl…
hurling hope upon the waves.

To love a woman thus
is to be born to her
and then to die,
over and then again over.

Upon his brow, lips land
Her Autumn eyelids close,
falling, falling in the garden.
go the petals of the rose.

Her whispers writhe upward, warming my lips
Chased gently by thoughts, and fingertips
Which pulse over keys, sewing words onto fields
Of love thirsty parchment, tenderly peeled
From shavings off banyan trees, twisted in time
Woven from tangles of roots and vines
That glimmer and glide on the twirls of her hair
That coil around dreams as they swirl in the air
And reciprocate whispers that blend into sighs
Reflecting like moonlight in opening eyes.
Honey silk visage and java, like brindle,
Eyes like flint against frizzen, will kindle
Fire in the heart, calling men once missing
To a resplendent nexus, of lost souls kissing.
Arcadian journeys of body and mind
Sing from fathomless depths of space and time.
Geography traversed by her steps, sublime
Bearing piedra de ijada from a far eastern mine.
Electricity leaps in passionate arcs,
from skin to skin in dendritic sparks,
That strobe over rhythm beneath the sheets,
as lovers listen and friction speaks
in syncopation with shuddering breaths,
from sodden mouths that sweetly press,
And I close my eyes in synchronicity,
but even closed, it’s her I see.
Tasting the salt of a single tear
A harbinger, for the moments near.
High on the hum of hopes embrace
as rapture and destiny hasten the pace,
I open my eyes to watch her go,
but once inside it starts to grow
into a poem unleashed in my heart,
By a byzantine kiss, after lost lips part.