This quilt we shared
has become heavy with sadness,
damp with tears since your passing.

Rips and tears, unrepaired,
are now gaping holes
of stark loneliness, each one
a wouund, a near-death
of the soul.

This quilt, once a shelter
from world’s cruelty,
now bleeds grief
into every night.

Where is the magic needle,
To sew up the gaps ?
Where is the thread of kindness,
the stitches that heal the heart ?


I huddle and shiver beneath
this thin reminder of past joy,
a gift of love given, then
suddenly snatched away.

Like a
            h
            u
            r
            r
            i
            c
            a
            n
            e
At first a haphazard
                                  d
                                   r
                                   i
                                   z
                                   z
                                   l
                                   e
Then a deadly
           d
           o
           w
            n
            p
            o
            u
            r

Of beak-masqued terrorists
                                     i
                                     n
                                     v
                                      i
                                      s
                                      i
                                      b
                                       l
                                       e

Threatens each unguarded
                 m
                 o
                 m
                 e
                 n
                 t

Fear grows everywhere suspicion
                                     l
                                     u
                                     r
                                     k
                                     s

Yesterday’s mosquito makes tomorrow’s
               g
               h
               o
               s
               t

It’s the season’s ungiving
                                      p
                                      a
                                      n
                                      i
                                      c

No remedy : only the sky’s massive closed door and
                  t
                  i
                  m
                   e
                   l
                   e
                   s
                   s
                   n
                   e
                   s
                   s

Despair, immeasurable
as shadows perceived
in fading daylight.
Colors of an unseen
rainbow beckoning,
hope just out of reach.

Prayers beyond words –
a bright reflection imagined.
Questions hanging like ghosts
in the atmosphere.

Time without substance,
a moment of breath,
suspence awaiting repetition,
help or comfort.

Speculations about angels’ wings,
darks tunnels, light rivers of love,
and the memory of a story we once believed.
Life, like a stunned bird, held between
invisible hands.

Gone, last year, you’re gone,
as a guilty lover steals away,
No use zipping up the bright
horizon as the day begins again –
your replacement will still barge in.

You’ve grown old, weary, your face
craggy as a mountain, your beard
a wisp of cloud. Time to chase
your end around the world,
your destination everywhere.

Run, old year, to time’s
bartered space, where
the chaos of bewildered atoms
cannot follow. You, who were
only a shadow, a shape of brief
episodes, departed moments,
forgoten yesterdays, a bridge
swept away by momentum’s
transformation.

A book of poems –
a stunning moment’s promise,
a planet of new songs
each scarlet stanza firing
neurons at the back of mind,

a word like «whorl»
violet verses, rhythm
thumping as if with curses

Each image a word explosion
Spilling sparks on the dark,

each metaphor a painting
each simile a saying

Rhymes of psychedelic highs
Music of soft-petalled tongue:

velvet sonnet
silky sestina
vigoruous villanelle –

Perfect lens capturing
each wavelength of light,
splintering time, filling history
with slippery equivocals.

Perfect circle, irridescent
kalidescope, all colors
transposed, admired,
re-interpreted.

Invisible non-bodies –
collective elctrodynamics,
fast and furious nano-flares
of hovering incandescence.

They need no permission
to cross borders, leap checkpoints,
falsify fingerprints, scramble eye-scans.

They converse in a code
of wrangling fury, one alias
to another, true identity
unknowable.

These migrants can’t be detained
or deported, They assemble
out of nowhere, instigators
of disruption, provacators
of destruction.

There’s no stopping their attraction
or repulsion. They represent our
deepest fears, for their clandestine
agenda is not at all what it appears.

Whether…

death’s dark moons of tidal sadness

or
ferocious heaves and sighs of birth

Whether…

yellow warmth of day’s last kiss

or
dappled shadowed semi- tones of earth

Whether…

storm’s thunder in heaven’s raging brain

or
the cautious rhythm of a summer rain

Whether…

a night of passions’ lucious moans

or
morning’s taste of sweetened honey tones

Whether…

a dream’s dissembling reflexion

or  
a second’s truth of camera inflexion

No momentay frame of flesh,
No precarious green shoot,
No wink of precious inspiration
Without those secret wavelengths
of vibration.