Night is an old blanket
asleep on my pillow.
Night is the mist on the river
covering the willows.
Night is the moon turning blue
brushing her hair.
Night is a black dress
on the back of my chair.

End where we started then start over again.
****** through the same side we spilled out of.
A pair of rings for fools and friends;
Crazy straw love.

Tangled then thickened to one mass.
Stripped in stark relief.
Strengths and weaknesses in high contrast;
sifting through our ashes.

I equate us to a figure eight
lying on its side.
Split down the middle -
we're nothing.

Carve the curve that craves the end.
Sliding out then in again.
Spiral arms unwinding;
Spin us toward the center.

have I heard a poem
as good as the trail nymph
recited,
speaking breathless of a soft pine needle
patch one might find near the peak of the hill
          where sun freckles alight playful
                 beds soft as a doe with fawn might desire?
Right up there, she silently said, past the curve of that creek
head up the root covered hill, just a few feet farther. I followed her gaze,
nearer than you imagine,
I did hear her,

saw her taut arm and lithe finger point me to there. Then she told me, you will find a poet there.

      in sunlight patches and growing lichen and moss covered wisdom
you will find him there.

He will bestow a poem to you, a wise and memorable poem, but, promise me to treasure it faithfully.
          
When I awoke,
there where I was led, on that peak of the hill
                  and the bed of needles amid
  many birds, scurrying animals, silent and speckled by daubs of sun and limb, I heard it.

You fall from your body to eternity,
Not to death but in my eyes,
      Your name becomes untouchable,
Falling through a prism of mirrors,
        Each one my memory of you,
The eternal moment is a scattered fable
       As I divide you into words,
Kiss me at the solstice,
         The season bring about separation,
Alter and knife,
         The tremor of the moon on your *******,
Solar lovers in a cosmic body,
         We make two syllables out of love,
We paint the sky unfolding the horizon,
        Transfigures of body and time
The dream realised in another dream,
        I fall into you
             You fall into me,
We meet where the earth and sky kiss....

That was the end
of her holy affair,

when she knelt, out of habit
and felt fresh air

finding the gaps
where her gods once were

like light finds the edge of a door
when it's not shut so tight as before..

the heart feels a gypsy
the mind a vagabond
the eyes get misty
by the lilies in the pond

bloom the petals pinkish
smudged with streaks of white
swaying slow by wind's kiss
glory displayed bright

upon the slender neckline
crowns of innocent smiles
fill all dark with sunshine
wipe out weary miles

o traveler feel the invite
merrily pause to respond
be a while in sunlight
among the lilies of the pond