His blade
is a stainless mirror
with edges tempered
to bend and breathe
a mortal whisper.

It cuts perfectly inside
the one who crosses the night,
restlessly tearing its blinding veil
for a glimpse of tomorrow's light.

The wanderer sleeps
with the enemy within,
ready to pierce his life
in a single dream

and so he enters —unafraid,
the endless doors of undoing,
for all that empties into the blade
is a lightness of his own becoming.

Deep the wounds may be
yet he never bleeds;
His blade is an undying breath
when Death follows beyond him.

Under a temple of sequoia,
I do not fear your ravenous wild
which lives in everything—
flowering desire.

What drives my folly
drips longingly with mad nectar,
finds your mystery alive in my eyes,
mystery coloured in vibrant azalea.

There is no forest, just
deciduous portals to other worlds.

Beneath an outgrowing meadow
of detritus, decay has a lurid scent
of pine that lingers; And your roots

guide my descent into the darkest deep,
a thousand years into the Holocene.

Show me
how to carry this endless dream.
Make me remember where
I am and will always be:

in raindrops streaming
to the understory,

in hollowed trees pulsing rivers
of sun in between,

in conifer transpiring seeds
from branch to leaf,

in earthworms relishing
the sweetness of skin,

in the enduring vision of you
that exists in the marrows
of me.

Maybe in time
touched by waterfalls of memory,
I will return to your world again—
cloaked in dirt and evergreen.

reading the lines
of your lips
a softness of spoken dreams
those that are slightly parted
always giving,
always breathing
life

like the twirl of a coin, this heart
quivers and falls, slowly
until you spin me again.

Have the courage
to tread the edge of
impossibility

where each stride
is a river of fault lines,
where love begins
rupturing boundaries
all at once.

Hear the tides surge
in a hue of indigo bliss
roaring, "how do you live
on the horizon
of an incessant abyss?"

An ocean of stars
have become none for
we have become one
after many nights.

The ground trembles
at the moon's glow
as blossoms ripen,
as the torrent within
us begin to soar and
the Earth greets us again;

Now is a good time
to live once more.

The moon crashes
into ocean night spilling
iridescence o'er me,
o'er half-opened eyes.
Bathed in the soft glow
of my friend holding me
beneath dappled shadows of
a whispering tree, I wake
from infinite dream to return
a blossoming flower—
A light has come to me now
in this midnight hour.

Moth, dancing moth,
dance to the light. Dance to the death.
Break those wings to free the flight,
the sea is far and here is no hearth, not here.

Fly, moth, fly
away from the lilted breeze so to breathe easy.
Your heart is in shock; Moth, go back to
from where you come.

Moth, falling moth,
no crevice in sight, dear moth—where has your illusion
gone? Moth don’t waste time, hurry yourself and
cease the end, in through the spaces and far from time.

Wingless moth, pained.
The light shines only on you. What disturbance (perturbing the soul)
held moth back?

Every night
the Moon follows him

casting her eyes upon
a silver landscape

like a luminous guide
they travel together, him and her.

Across the sky
the stars bow as they pass

so do the trees sigh
even on days she's hiding

or shy— he can't tell,
only gaze

until she appears
when the darkest phase

is over and the clouds
part for her entrance,

when she is full
and everything's bright again

shadows are born from light,
but darkness is not the absence of sight
so follow the stars in their endless flight,
O child of the night.

where light meets the shade
is where the journey begins,
with no horizon the eye can see
so too the boundless feeling within.

Come along now,
Come and let me walk
With you.

Walk by my side
Walk in the endless night
‘Till the moon reaches its zenith, the stars
Bequeath us their shine.
Trees are obscurities above our eyes;
They keep us away, far away
From all that is menacing.

I lie on the ground, on the grass,
Where the milk of the sky
Has drenched the pathways
On which our footsteps breathe
Quietly.
The key that resides
In your pocket quietly rattles,
So to speak the song
Of nightingales and wraithlike winds
And hushed memoirs
Silently singing in the mind.

Hurry along now,
Into night’s sombre,
Outstretched arms and
I will follow.

Because you gave me life,
I kneel down at your side
with my hand on yours,
my lips on yours
and a whisper of mortality
in between.

The Sea may be salty
but she keeps men afloat
in their rocking boats
like an undulating symphony,
so when they meet
waves of spite and grief,
a tempest from which
they cannot retreat,
their anchor becomes Neptune
for they know this storm too
will pass soon
and the clouds will unform
in the light of the moon
to greet them with her
radiant beam
as they arrive on the shore of
the island of dreams.

You are not without flaws
and this makes me
like you even more.