sense impressions, unlocked memories
reveal themselves, leach out the past
seemingly random, without order
free to roam at will, a flavoured
remembrance long forgotten
something deep, touched senses
come to visit the present,
knocking at the door of perception.

masks of beauty
shooting at the moon
sweeping arrows
saddle the tunes
i cruise for nests of honey
set in diamond casings
situated among the flowers of yesterday’s
paparazzi
sages sneer at pimpled teenagers
future primal actors in the dreamtime
see me in this humidity
drier than a cactus
standing out like prickly pear flowers
and nopale sandwiches
made from green shoots and stems
our splendid appendages brought forth
oh the void
in mayhem’s embrace we chase the testament that
makes no mistakes
and never defiles them
grace is a carpet
a sheep skin in the winter
seminars of laughter barren like your refrigerator
sheet rock stallions
stand firm against the oppressive shields of bureaucracy
i see candle light dinners waiting for the masses
to matriculate from kindergarten

limbs of the fallen
upon a funeral pyre
failed offerings to a careless sun
the sacred forest lies in ruin
trilliums no more to flower
silence mocks the land
no songbirds in the bower
spires from the wreckage
rise verdant and aflame
magenta resurrection
wild and untamed

sparks of you
           lie within me
               not dormant but
            silently active
a volcano on hold
         embers in the haze
            of intensity's throb
                  and glow
my heartflames
supposedly on low
your bones are
almost molten
melding with my own
and my cells are
tiny brush fires
craving a certain water
but not just
                    any kind
I need liquids
fresh from the spring
                 icy seas
to cool my heat of soul, of ****
and gelatinous nomenclature
that clings to my tongue
I need my loops of wild light
to be egged on in the
right fluorescence
yet calmed as I spin
into your sphere

Quiet, now. Just hush up
Put your hand on my chest
          feel the beats
   calm my frenzied wires
drench my parched lingual
       expressions with your
              aqua pura
the salty sweetness
of deep desires quenched
I need soil
of the right kind
I am not a desert flower
but I have thrived
in the dry cracked
barren lands
       sunstreaks in my hair
              blooms have burst forth from
          the ******-in parchment
of my skin
making it smooth and dewy
and despite themselves,
festoons of flowers
decorate the pain.
belly deep
fill the milky white
of ******* with colors
releasing the constant,
strict tightening
pressing on my chest
and if given the
right conditions
this volcano
will
      so deliciously
erupt