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Nights, we take the boat out
paddle our way green through water
swum by inlet waves, full moon apace
shadowy, ancient tribal faced
lose all trace of the shore, black
but for phosphorescence
glowing, trailing from the oars
a haunting ghostly art
green and breathing, disappearing
back into darkness, swallowed
by black water, by night
strange this death,
this rebirth and breath
felt in each and every moment.
I unraveled her kimono
As if it were a gift,
When hours earlier,
She’d bandaged my arm.

I traced her clavicle
With the only finger left,
And seconds later, would
Intimately grasp the music.

So I whimper within want,
And blame it on the pain,
Come an instant,
She’d pegged me a “liar.”

Then we’d love, we’d wed,
A naked knowing only moonlight,
And should the hours understand
“Later,” we’d know only dark.

So the sunrise ensued,
I folded her kimono, silk and
As if it were a letter, one
Parting gratitude and prior wander.

But the crimson and
‘Ever’d arrive later,  and later’d
Arrived atop a melancholy’s mount,
Eternal and seasoned  “regret,”

She’d passed, we’d passed,
And the night’s passed to know
Only “broken,” broken, the bow,
And how all and always unravels.
I spent some time in Kyoto. I will never forget Kyoto. But oh, did I try come two days in Tokyo and the skies above and east Narita.
“One’s” ok, but “two’s” illegal come a night whispered,

“Run,”
Or so the grass spoke –

     Run like the wind.
     Run,
          But always look back.
     Run,
          So to liberate all you’ve loved.
          So too, awaits a home, only dreamt.

And she ran,
From village to village –

     Blankets wrought pollen.
     Carrots,
          For another’s eyes.
     Our baby,
          The outlaw prior even born;
          Hot on heal, the “department.”

And we ran,
Hopping continents –

     I, so to support.
     Our son,
          So to survive.
     My wife in wait,
          Our second miracle burrowed,
          Just beyond the world I’d promised,

A land, so help me, and shore we’d arrive one day.
The Department of Birth Control's hot on our heals. I've gotten my son away from where we were; but two remain and so help me, four will be reunited soon. So yes, that's where I've been and that's what I've been doing.
stores are running deficit
provisions unreplenished
ovens seeing less of flames
you're writing love poems!

cobwebs in the rooms dance
future in shambles unplanned
caught in lunatic trance
you're writing romance!

dirt is marking the wall
worries bursting the skull
expenses shaking nerve
you're busy writing love!

no bother no future plan
quickly dwindling ration
drowned in dense emotion
you're pouring passion!
Wild child space travel gypsy
       drunk    on     the cosmos
     churning a sensual pattern--
             melting         suns
with a carefree wink
as stars pour into her eyes
like a garnet shiraz
       spiraling
              in    tidal   waves
splashing in a crystal wine glass
     caressing
              her white light lips.

Planets dip and dangle around her hips
as the weight of the nebulous nectar whispers
                                       lullabies to her eyes
         as her incandescent            hair contours
    to copious glistening constellations  
rippling across her tired body
                 like ice dripping on a warm chest
vibrating    indigo       moonlight         jazz
enrapturing millions with her simple act of symphonic yawning
as the dusk light dawning over faces
embraces souls stirring--
her purring hip cat dreams
leave people like us with mouths agape
as her voluptuousness nape hushes
us with a supernova explosion of peace
oscillating between
each of our spirits.
Poem inspired and is a respone and reaction to this painting, http://beautifulfarrago.tumblr.com/post/122372179828/the-universe-dreaming-of-the-universe
The story has no memory
it just starts here
the eeriest of feelings
caress this peculiar vision

quick head turn
to get the hair out of my face
eyes glance up i see her
over there across the street

our eyes meet

the world begins to disappear
radiant eyes gaze into my soul
as mine reflect the exact energy
back at her

Not a look of lust or flirtation
a divine look, of some unspeakable
spiritual communication  
which goes back thousands of years

Past lives whirl as the universe warps
back to the big bang or conception
endless vast time in preparation
for this moment here

A story that takes place in a millisecond
yet the most profound i’ve told
of an event in the future that hasn’t happened
yet already has

in some distant land
A breeze of non-belonging
guiding her sails
to a destination
which has no map

The wood creaks
as the ship ages

middle of the ocean
a broken compass
no hint of salvation

with each new storm
her hope fades
with the worn sail

a hit of rejection
a taste of loss
a continuous reminder

of that old familiar pain

now all she does is watch
trusting that the ocean’s currents
will carry the ship to an island

where life will be waiting
A feeling of non-belonging.
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