Treasure in forest
Water dropping crystal beads
Dew on wild orchids

He wrote in the mornings, she recited to him at night,
He always made breakfast, she made dishes disappear,
His garb was quite frumpy, and hers, made of spun gold,
He struggled with fashion, song birds would dress her,
He thought his poems looked best in moving candlelight,
She made all the fires and lit candles with her eyes.
Once, he was embarrassed and said to her,
'How can you live like this with me in a hovel?'
She said it reminded her of Plato's Cave.
At readings he looked out and saw sinking eyes,
Now he has her read all his poems, it works
Wonders that way, and after-parties are strange,
Everyone keeps staring and asking for her
Name.  She gives cryptic answers and winks
At him.  The poet was running out of words
And thought his days with her were waning.
But she said her heart was kept in a precious
Box of symbols, of words, only he could write.  
She said that it was written in the sky, that poetry
Was dying and that he was the cure.  He told
Her that the stars were lost at night, and fading
While she sparkled unfailing, and many times
They tasted each others tears, many times
The world stopped spinning, he knew
It was her, she felt it was him.  To all
Others, their one bedroom flat was small,
Yet to them, it was the Palace Athene.

Your limbs are ladder
From sky to sheet,
Night has but one vision,
Two eyes we meet,

In this making bed,
Like rain we shudder
And sun is undead,
Reborn with another,

What vows we take,
Whisper's lip unlocked,
Voyage of sea breaths,
Slip of creation knocked.

Some branches of broken horn
Called to me, as most others
Were rungs, the trunk, a great pole
For one to vault, into the heavens
Where was perched a wild nest
Of a Red-tailed hawk, at the top
I could see the great bird, once
Was there, upon his cloud throne
And all the woods and ripples
With the lake, in dear murmurings
Played for me to soundly hear
The waves lap onto the shores
Under my flight and the lighted
Breeze that sifted through needles
And the sap that patched me there
Out on the limbs of my swaying
Daze.  
          O to sail in the scented sun
Of the great old pine of tinted
Sage and black tall bark, to be
Nestled in the forests on high
Within its mystery and wisdom,
All the way up I rose, the journey
Earthward was so much harder.

With cruelty he loved
Now life is measured in rains
Never baptismal

He walked through a wood,
Answering the trees,
Like some golden roustabout,
A Sophocles among nightshades,
Willows and the moving waters,
Wilderness wandered with he,
Wild in the sun as a freckled
Red headed lassie.

White butterflies waved their flags,
Surrendering to the murmurings
Bespoke in the sorrels and sores,
Waves of mumble wept into the winds,
Sands underfoot hushed by with him,
Birds above dreamed of no landings,
He could hear each word in their songs
Warbling in the briars and time poured
Its draught, fresh and dear as the first
Unearthly sunrise.

Day love bleeds to night
Crow sees tired flesh on bone
Dark wings drifting down

Seabird tracks in sand
End where ours begin as tides
Make both disappear

Distance between us
Countless tearing silences
Loudest words unsaid

In the fall of light,
Trees turn to stone.

This time the sun removes,
Told in tales of the rise of moon.

Light winds rustle rusted leaves—
And a fur will soon be feathered in a bed.

And silence screeches as some flying bark embarks
And the very trees are hollowed in their grieves of the newly
Throrned, red, running rose— of the dearly claimed, arisen dead.

Flowers, we both cried
Because tears were not enough
Petals cup the rain

Grey mackerel skies
Mind wandering, no purpose
Maybe go fishing?

She wakes, eyes open
Rainbow scent of ambrosia
First light of morning

Tears by a fountain
Penny wishes lost at night
Face of moon in well

Touching the ocean
Edge of creation— her skin
Fingers in the sands

My ruby looks on stones to see the light.
While amber stars are flashing in her mien,
She forges facets with her eyes and mines
A rocky grave.  To bear as such, the sun
Un-sung, she could caul parhelion to dust
And still doom to shadow those fireworks
She alone ignites.  Here then lies a truth;
My ruby looks on stones to see the light.

.
1
In the corner stands
My blue guitar,
Mirrors my grimace.


2
I have played you
So like dream was the dear song
Where you playing me?


3
Your body makes mine
Shudder as I imagine
A woman in my arms.


4
At the top of your body
Are keys unwound at the ready,
Silver spirals of tunings.


5
My soul is near hollow
But the blue guitar
Is filling in the foundations.


6
What makes the blue guitar
So shining in the mundane,
All the world is makeshift.


7
My fingers wet with you,
What water sounds like,
As it kisses the earth.


8
Deep in the strings
I summon my being,
Always blue as sheer sky.


9
Blue guitar, silent, singing,
My fingers ***** your neck,
Never do you scream.


10
Once I heard music,
The sweetest tabulations
Of sorrows in rosewood.


11
My fingers ache on steel,
These are your moved guts,
Strings that I borrow.


12
At an open window,
All the day obtuse,
I hear birds in your vibrations,
Untouched air of blue guitar.


13
I do not know anything,
Music is lathed on an open fret,
The heart is beating to a note of bliss,
Hole set in the body braced by wood,
Time cuts as it is sectioned, a staff fires,
All the chords are listed in primes,
Is the ear a window or is the eye,
Blind in the choral songs we make,
All things are ephemeral, wonderings,
Variations we work as structure fades,
As the blue guitar is touched, turning light.

Cloud burst drenching us
That day love glistened, laughter—
Caught in a shower

The dark woods circle the clearing.
The marsh birds, safe in their stalks,
Curtains to the yellow,
Cautiously wading.
Wick and wings — wand
Over, under leaves.
Merlin shoots — morning,
Smokes the light
Air.  

The woodland birds,
High and low,
Flick and feed,
Soon will turn,
To fallen
Seeds.

Sun of early spring
Joyous— we walk on water
Minnows under ice

No rout, they did not let out a cry,
With veins of flame in swelling eye,
No word, could semble nor shutter,
The bumpy flesh tore into the light,

In nimbles of silence, nimby smoke
Smouldered by sidle of spent fires,
The house of future days was open,
Their ***** it hearts eternally closed.

Round of twin *******
Circle thighs, hips, moon bottoms
The round of my palms

Hazel tree, long breeze
Young tendril branches stretching
Woman combing hair

Wet welling from earth
Deep valleys, hills, sweating *******
I plung into her


We are lost at sea
In moonless night our soft cries
Curled waves drowning us


Above her in bed
Little breaths lifting our bodies
Eyes, fingers, dreaming


Her green eyes are set
Jewels from sargasso seas
My ghost ship is wrecked


Her long hair tangles
No struggle in rising— then
We are rapt in bed


Her eyes blinding me
Milky way of her body
There is a heaven


In forest we taste
Each other in evergreens
Hot dews on the moss


Blissful time kissing
My bare thighs sink into hers
Running sands so quick


As olive or grape
So shed, paired souls are threshed
Out of their bodies


Hummingbirds share truths
Nature sounds with all sweetness
Bee in the flower


Always in a field
Wild flowers— a bunch to pick
Herself a bouquet


In the park we walk
Flocks of white birds taking flight
Two hearts light as air


We kissed under moon
Pox of stars grew flowering
Nightshade of her lips


She took me to bed
Skinned in bliss— was reborn, lost
In her satin folds

Before cool knowledge
Water drops into a well
Wets inspiration

Joy after party
How she could light up the room
Evening dress falling

Hair reigns, scent of her
She sleeps late by a window
Morning meadow sun

( Sonnet )*

Poet to my eyes, you are the sight of whitecaps
On the sea water, or the sudden turn of a bird
In flight and as the wave I roll and break,
With drowning wings that lift toward you, my sky.

Mistress to my soul, I am the nave of your holy
Cathedral.  My head is but an occluded riff,
De-noting songs you make in aisling airs of light
Polyphony, my star over-sings the windy globe,

She swallows heaven, like swallows blacken the dusk.
Shearwater bird, strip my surface with your cutting
Wings.  My waves peak to reach you starling girl.

The sloughing chill of winter dies quick in sighs
Waft asunder my little Indian summer, wake me
From sleep and I shall dream but once for your kiss.

Heart aches tossed on beach
Once horizons so stunning
Red sun drowns in sea

Bare branches hold ice
Her heart a faint winter tree
Roots encased in frost

Shy artsy lovers
Dressed for inclement weathers
Rain on the sidewalks

Fireworks in clover
Two golden lit butterflies
Kissing in Meadow

Laughter reigns with us
Sun breaking gloomiest day
Eyes always smiling

In cool light of heavy air,
The lovers worked at song,
Whittling the oak as it grew,
Wrapping time in knot, a gear
By the rounded dial of a snail,
Even the sun waltzed forgetful
And antique moon soon forgot
What it knew under wink of stars,
The field was all in hushed flame
As the new ant trails always were,
Saying in the grass that May, windy,
Is all we can know ever beneath trees
As they burst from breaking blue earth,
Will always, grasping, be this evergreen,
The lovers became here truly, new witness,
To themselves never more, but only this once,
Eternal, fresh, undivided, jewels of sun, divine.

Once flight stirred within
I followed bird tracks in snows
Till steps disappeared

Cabin nest for two
Over lost mountains of dream
Wind scented with pines

Tea and cup ready
Birds in garden weaving dream
Kettle wakes calling

( Sonnet )*

In the night we are twined shades,
Shadows on the wall, for dances,
The moon in deep groves of sky,
Sweeps us to the childhood land.

With eyes, lodged in beat of sand,
Sometimes we listen as shadows
Travel on green stems into flower
And all the petals and bulbs ring.

There is music in a night garden,
Lambs, dozy lost, counting notes
To fingers, rapt in skinned bodies.

In sleep never the stars outshine
What sparks we drive under lids,
Even shadows are leaved doors.

Winged caterpillar
That frees my soul,
Sets my mind to dreaming,
How the hand of man
Out plays the God,
Makes love
To its master.
With fondled fingers, you paint
A dumb firmament, the way
Light dazzles as it breaks
Or how the itching rain
Taps a teasing melody as it falls
To the lover ground.

Beloved of Orpheus
Whose wove you coiled in-
Vents a garment of bird song loom,
Content my breath
The way that water wells
And lolls into puddles
Nesting not before the hot,
Harpy steam.

O melodious pool,
Undulating lake, frame
To emotive vapours, without
Ship you ply in wakes.
The oarsman plucks the main,
Your body is the sail,
Drunkard winds and warblers,
Blow hard, but fail my ears,
Atone as well, the wretched sounds of day
For they are sour spells, and but a fools
Trash canned movements, in a state
So needy of weeding,
Mere sound is soiled
The way you rake.

Evolution spreads,
As stones do,
When moves the river bed,
Grace, in violence,
Sparkles as it blooms,
Like an ears creation—
Rose on the tomb.