The music in the library was you,
My saving symphony, a silent movie,
That Jason Reeves song which
Never fails to wow me,
A whisper,
     A ***** whisper,
The ancient sound of a page's
Turning, a bell-ringing
From the ***** icecream vendors
Of my humble Homeland,
Or the comfy sound
      Of an oven-toaster.

I was enchanted
     To meet you.

Had you not come to me, love-ling,
And fling the old cobwebs away
From the bore of a book called
Moby ****
     Which my life was,
Then all the dust of the Earth,
Of the shelf, of my flesh
Would have gathered
In me, burying the papyrus,
The scroll, a fragility—
     My heart,
          My ever-lost.

Time ticked like a man clambering,
An ambulance, a clocktower
     Pierced through the chest, the soul,
          The spirit.

But your eyes sang, songstress.
My spirit hoped.
Your body leaned,
     Communed.
        
     Your ear
          Touched my ear—
           A melody, a harmony,
               An embrace.*

© 2015 J.S.P.

Each time you lower
The kisses of life,
You buoy all azure
That there is—
Frantic oceans,
Berries, roses,
Temperamental waters—
Ceaseless savages raptured
Into hissed fragile vapors
Loosing all memory
Of aquatic salt,
Of sad currents,
Of mischievous chlorine,
Looping all ancient time
Accumulated
Into unified forever.

Nothing is as majestic
As the great grand blue-ling
Looted of soul, soul, souls,
It willingly divides, other
Than this, than an epic budding
Of fated love.
There’s nothing as majestic
As we fearfully are.

The torrid torrent
Of quickening
You breathed for me
Has galloped as a white mare
In all lifetimes, salvaging
Our spirits altogether
From the fickle surfs
Of the seas.

Dear, we are puzzling
Archipelagos,
And you submerged us
To a deeper sky
     Of Love.*

© 2015 J.S.P.

Will you let me
Read your scars
     And revise them?*

© 2015 J.S.P.