Spring morning
And the sunflowers and roses
Are sighing for one another

Reynaldo Casison

Before you
And your gentle wit
And all the colors of your kindness  
There were only embers of me

In those days,
I fawned wisdom with my words
And painted every page azure
A ****** blue
A fresh snow on an already frozen lake

Before you,
Every season of anguish simmered up from the floorboards
And flowed through my currents  
And bubbled out of me like hot molasses

Before the roots of you wrapped around my fingers
And your soul spilled into mine
There was only rain
Only a flood that brought pen to paper

Before you
There were only embers of me
But now, my heart ablaze
it takes a storm to put me out

my lover twirls grace and beauty
between her fingertips
her golden hair gleams like sunlight
and her breath flows like wind
i can liken her to flowers
but they hold no candle to her
she moves like a river
gentle, slow, and flowing
i understand now the desire
that Eve had that day in Eden
aching to feel the sweet nectar
flow down her chin and to her breast
wanting to taste what she never could have
and, God, did it feel good.

Whispered words and stolen glances,
gloved hands clasp, fingers laced.
Hidden lines and hopeful chances -

In dim-lit parlors, a warm embrace.
Out of the shadows -
A flame.

the blue glow of the television screen
mimicked the moonlight through the car window
where sat, Kate and i, in silence, watching
after a day gone that began with my name and hers

continued on until her slumber
whilst a lunar halo around me kept me walking in the night

the Georgian oak canopy hangs around like aurora borealis
i’ve never noticed it before

In the water,
I find your face in the sacred geometry of the waves and the swirling of the sky.
Birds fly, whistling overhead.
I hear your name in the flutter of their wing
and sighs on the current of air,
When I conjure you to my mind.
Each parcel of rainbow light, your love.
Today the sand is soft and warm.
I let it stick to my legs and fall through my fingers.
Pondering this universe in the fractals of the dancing landscape.
Floating weightless and in love.

now i'm from Georgia
never far from a mountainside
scent of earthen greed
down where hills do fly
but buried 'neath those hills
is a hate that runs deep
where preachers lie
for a false god, on their knees

now i'm from Georgia
land kissed by sea
fortune for the rich
and bloodlust for the freed
because the fog and the apathy
can be heard when they sing
liars, all of them
when they decree:
let freedom ring.

now im from Georgia.