As you count
The number of
Times the sea
Kisses the shore
I count how many
Freckles I will
Have to kiss
Before my lips and
Your cheeks
Become well
Acquainted

HUGE W A L L S
     overlook
         the
       future....

timeline tunnels blocked--
Pink Floyd wasn;t kidding
         about THE W A L L S....

But a HUGE hug hangs
     the stone mental blockade
            on the gallows under a crescent moon

       while gypsies cheer with tambourines and  
                     artists draw with the ashes from their cigarettes
                            and
                      ­writers jot down the joyous carnival mood between shots

Chinese lanterns and Ramadan Fanous
             illuminate the b r i d g es
                      brrrrrrrrighter
                                 iridescence and
                                      swinging
              ­                 with misfits dripping anticipation
                      spinning sufis swaying
                                         to see the mural landscape opposite  THE W A L L S.

Sitting inside a cloud of shisha--
with subtle hints of strawberry shimmying
through the midnight moonlight,
the incandescent embers
radiate from their core
forming ancient runic shapes
reminding me of a time beyond the concept of before....

when elders spoke with ashes in their words
traveling to worlds within looking through
the windows to each other's souls
where the rhythm of a heartbeat
and the melody of breathing cacophonously echos
through our gray matter canyons.
A time when millennia passed by in milliseconds
as everyone danced like a flame grinding on a candle wick
wailing with ecstasy--
every bead of sweat slithering from head to feet
arousing like a maddening kundalini explosion--
a honey-like nectar glowing throughout our body
pouring out of us brilliantly brighter than any white-hot sun!

I think
this might be a reason for my fascination
when it comes to inhaling fire--
despite my earth-natured tendencies
I'm still hypnotized by the first gift to mankind;
light.

//winter//
the frost that clings to your bones -
like it lives there -
makes such a home under your skin
in the way that I wish I could
burry myself – deep within,
the warmth of your breath
ghosting the air,
rose tinting on your cheeks -
the snowflakes upon your hair

it is in this season
that your love is a blanket

//spring//
The flowers bloom in your hair,
the pollen dancing to your eyelashes
how can spring sit here
with you?
spend a day aside from the world -
spend a day away from me,
living within your own beauty,
this charm that you share
it’s almost unfair (to us mere mortals)

it is in this season
that your love is beautiful

//summer//
The sunlight in your eyes is a searchlight
calling me through those lazy days
like burning, the kiss of your skin
makes the shiver underneath my own
seem so unlike the season,
you step around
the heat in me
like it’s nothing
like it’s just incandescent

it is in this season
that your love is on fire

//autumn//
leaves fall around you – like a crown
a king of the season
and death doesn’t matter
when you hold so much life,
and drop not a single ounce of care
for the wilt in the flowers stem,
and the lightning, the clouds, the breeze
are side effects
of your touch

it is in my favourite season
that your love is more powerful than I

I heard
That I’m made out
Mostly of water
And star stuff
They say that there is
A secret galaxy
Located in my mantle
Just beneath the crust
Of my pale skin

They nodded at me
Twirled me around
Inspected and pulled on
My skin
They nodded
Saying, “Yep, it’s in there.”

I heard
That I’m made out
Of water
And star stuff
They say that there is
A secret galaxy
Located in my mantle
Just beneath the crust
Of my pale skin

I got excited
And grabbed a kitchen knife
And cut through
The equator line of my belly
And I found nothing
But sticky, stinky, bouncy globules
Planets, maybe
So where are my stars?