for Sally, Bex and Tonya, Denel and my beloved

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gods do not seek forgiveness,
or comprehension,
desertion, desecration, ascension
or condemning condescension

but how how they crave
just a good conversation,
to get a word in edgewise,
a nice chat,
entrée à, la tête-à-tête,
entre deux, deluxe-amis

a casually talking,
absent of
words of need and beseech,
reason and causality,
and no I or We pronouns,
sans enunciations and annunciations,
false hopes for incarnations, incantations,
set asides for life's grievous aches
all human requests, and some of God's commandments
for now, set aside,
annulled

just a talk,
some repartee,
but mostly an open ear lent,
an early morn quiet listen
over tea (he/she) and coffee (me),
paying attention to
both sides of an interactive story

as recompense for my willingness to be,
his engaged counter party,
my mourning gloomier cloudiness,
quick exchanged for instant,
rising sunshine warming glorious

my vista
of a bay dancing
to Tchaikovsky Swan Lake ballet music,
deftly inserted between
an Agnus Dei and an Ave Maria

mood music he said,
and we chuckled,
he/she was god and orchestrated
my tastes,
Adele et Dudamel,
comprehending my undesirable apprehension,
by granting my needy wish for
poetic inspirational composition contentment

all exchanged,
for just a good listen,
no judgements, in either direction

I am the god of love,
the one who makes you weep,
when you study your beloved's rising chest,
each uplifted breast heaving,
a confirmation blessing,
that her life is present
for at least the next second,
ready for your magi adoration

be not fearful,
this day we talk only,
as I pass by,
I have no business to conduct,
on your island of sheltering redoubt,
but to engage and unburden
for even gods
are required to confess,
and aging godheads do adore
a human shoulder
upon to rest,
a great invention,
(If I may say so myself)
and to whom better to address
than my only love poetry
poète personnelle

here he off-guards me
with a favorite injection,
Samuel Barber's Adagio for Strings,
music so sweet that it never fails
to weaken my knees,
sweeping my eyes unto weeping
priming me with this first coat of
sounds so elementary soothing

he half-bows before me and says,

forgive me human, for I have sinned

in Dallas and Nice,
just this past week,
with forays here and there,
doing god's work

read your bitterness and struggle,
anger and forgiveness all in one crust,
furious curses and wails so plaintive,
my heavenly musicians weep from jealousy,
at the cries emanating from the fired fury song
of human hearts torn and love plundered

I am the god of love

and

the god of pain and all that is the

anti-love

(and to make me better understand,  
Schindler's List score, so sweetly,
he plays for me,
to clarify the atmosphere,
that death and love -
and the courage of understanding,
so oft go hand in hand)

write me a love poem for me,
no hymn or sonnet do I require,
for love is essence of forgive,
there is no perfect union,
that cannot stand,
with out this emotion of
conciliatory intermediation

tell me you understand
that the scales
of bereft befallen,
disparate chance interrupting randomized,
must periodic perforce
sometimes weigh more,
than the good of simple

balance tip that creative god spark within,
of which you write,
away from my bloodied, unsightly hand

write me one more love poem
a frisson semi-sweet and cleanly neat,
of good things sad,
but worthy of remembrance

you are not the first for this bequest to receive,
other poet's before and after,
will Jacob-wrestle with my angels,
battling to find the...

no matter

"my love to thee is sound sans crack or flaw"^

let your love poem
to me
be of whole healing,
for these disarrayed feelings
cannot forever persist,
the perfect balance you desire
is not on your Earth existent,
unobtainable

these cracks and flaws must and will come


and yet

love poems
will be our common language

and then he/she left,
leaving this poem behind,
born from my mind, yet,
carved on my skin,
written with the nib of my rib,
sealed and signed,
future undefined,
but dated upon my
cleansed hand's lifeline,
hand held outstretched
as if to say

“and yet"

the one you used to
say, the one that you
have started to
hear yourself now
say. The one you
hoped and prayed
would come and
wipe away the
rot you had become,
you know it’s
fading from view,
that day you knew
is hazy now, more
dream than real,
more someone
else eating a
delicious meal
while you
stand in the rain
watching through
the pain, a life
you’ll never claim.

I fell in love with you in metaphors. Having never seen you, but reading every word you write.

The way you dangle your participles, naked and raw, yet still soft and round, then casually leave unfinished sentences as if to say, please, finish me as you will

You tempt with your soft parentheses, tightly wrapped around my waist, the words they squeeze rubbing up against the curves

Your similes, a sideways smile, like the cat, canary gone, pull me closer until your delicate punctuation is so warm, so wet, I can feel it pressed against me, you alliterate, such sweet surrender, so sublime, and I succumb

I want you now in rhyme, in verse, in prose, in  sweet haiku

     'where in so few words
you trace the shape of my heart
         and then (somehow) paint its hue'


I fell in love with all your metaphors, the way your sentence structure feels pressed hard against my body, devilishly running on so that I'll follow ,your undulating syllables, your firm round letters, your tight sweet semi-colon, that no common comma could replace.

darling delilah
what a pretty little thing you are
tell me,
when the philistines promised you the world for samson’s heart
did you know this was strength?

anne anne anne boleyn
what a cunning little thing you are
tell me,
when you sliced through rome with the kiss of a king
did you know this was destiny?

cleopatra my love
what a lovely little thing you are,
tell me,
when you drew caesar to your bed for the nile and for yourself
did you know this was power?

holy holy joan of arc
what a mighty little thing you are
tell me,
when you were burned at the stake for hearing god’s voice at fourteen
did you wish it was the devil instead?

golden girl marie antoinette
what a sweet little thing you are
tell me,
when your shiny blonde head rolled down the steps of a revolution
did you finally feel like a girl?

eve mother of eden eve
what a wicked little thing you are
tell me,
when you sunk your teeth into the secrets of the universe
did you feel like a god too?

vacancy, let me in
i'm drowning in the holes you filled
vacancy, let me in
the sunset doesn't warm my skin

ocean sky, motel room five
my car's banged up, parked in the drive
she's a little rusty but she's still a sweet ride
come jump in the passenger side
one for just tonight, for old time's sake
i miss you so much it's impossible to take
a poem once taught me what it's like to be heartbroken
ne'er reall' believed it 'til those little words were spoken

are you smiling at the sunrise
the way you did with me?
does he drown in your eyes
instead of looking at the sea?

vacancy, let me in
i'm drowning in the holes you filled
vanacy, let me in
the sunset doesn't warm my skin
my hands are cold without yours to hold
suddenly i'm colourblind without you in my world
there's so little beauty without you here to smile
please just let me stay for a little while
vacancy, let me in
vacancy, let me in

autumn leaves fall, but i don't jump in the piles
doesn't cross my mind;  i'm thinkin' 'bout the miles
the miles between you and me
i'm the blade of grass at the bottom of your tree
your roots are buried deep, deep in my heart
as you reach into the clouds like a work of art
maybe i'd be jealous if you didn't look so good
but i'm just staring at the leaves thinking, "would've, should've, could"

is he smiling at the sunrise
the way i did with you?
are you looking at the sea
feeling his eyes on you?

vacancy, let me in
i'm drowning in the holes you filled
vanacy, let me in
the sunset doesn't warm my skin
my hands are cold without yours to hold
suddenly i'm colourblind without you in my world
i promise if you'd let me, by your side i'd grow old
just a look from you and i'm weak, i fold
vacancy, let me in
vacancy, let me in

vacancy, let me in
i'm drowning in the holes you filled
vacancy, let me in
the sunset doesn't warm my skin

carnations drip from between her teeth.
black velvet adorns her rose petal skin,
gazing at her tortoiseshell dreams.
stars bloom from the dip of her collarbone
as silk knots wedge themselves between the holes in her earlobes.
she's got a mind of marble and a spirit of stone.
flowers and haikus echo throughout her soul.
her hair is filled with lavender dust,
her fingertips covered in charcoal.
when you hold your breath and dim your fairy lights,
she dances in the dark after 11 pm
in the cosmic alleyways of a saturated twilight.

my sister fixes me when i shatter,
and i hear angels seep
from the gleam of her laughter.
a contagious joy overflows
from her sock monkey mug
as her citrus bubbles pop
and the scent of mandarins fill my lungs.
when my mind is lost in space, she shakes me and calls my name
but through the hardships i've given her, she still loves me the same.
my sister takes my hand as we jump off swings
into pools of elysian dimensions
and streams of dopamine rush through my veins as she sings.
screams of our relief lay halfway through the woods
as i told her all the things i couldn't do,
and though she understood,
killed my poisonous doubts and showed me i could.
my sister lifts me and carries me through my tragedies,
putting me at ease as she jokes in dreams and rhapsodies.
i know that if my world were to fall,
my sister would come running to my little haven in the bathroom stall
and bring me to the comfort of the rainbows on her wall.
calm the midnight ivy pandemonium
and listen to the silence that follows
her melodies behind the cherrywood podium.
should i ever feel useless, or hopeless, or little,
leave me in the middle
of her cherry blossom giggles.
my sister shields me, and when i break, loves me in restitution;
should anyone mess with her
would be the start of a revolution.

we twirl batons beneath a patchwork canopy,
whisper goat noises into the depths of the sea,
ceasing our ocean tears with tea and poetry.
two hawaiian sisters living in a playful paradise,
reciting shakespeare and telling stories of kubla khan,
singing in the rain and drawing anime eyes.
we hide under window trees with branches like limbs,
cut our luminescent hair with blades of grass
only to fall in love with a horse prince.
we admire axolotls and jump with jellyfish,
our constellations colliding with a cappella chimes
as we laugh in harmony at makeshift mops and pretzel sticks.
we sleep in a bed of letters and fake lovers
under blankets of satisfaction, opera masks covering our faces
as we share warm embraces like that of a daughter and her mother.
we seek light in the darkness of japanese lamentations
while neptune's recovery leaves us knee-deep in great sensations.

we were young lights in the universe when we first collided,
but now we are celestial atoms that can't be divided.

She's magnetic.
I am a washer,
Pulled in by her.

I am awash
With want.
She's turned me desperate,
Starved animal.

I was so forlorn
She felt guilty.
Her eyes strained to see me,
Sad sap.

I'm not in love,
I'm insane.
Possessed by some succubus.
Tapped into my carnal flaw.

How could a demon
Smell so sweet?

Harmless sin.
Blameless craving.

She carried salvation to me
In her hands.
Her mouth.
She baptized my body.

I am reborn
Wicked as ever.

Skin wet.
Eyes open.
Every nerve aching
For her.

I am made by her.
For her.

I am succumbed to her.

To her spider hands,
And her rotten mouth,
Her allure.

I am helpless to her charms,
And I'm growing weaker every day.

Then she left.

She made me
Vulnerable.

It hurt.
But she was
*To die for.