Unwilling the pain of shared listening,  their flesh one
go the closed voices only into lovers warm drunken secrets
painful of imagination’s beauty, which knows rare echoes of the words
their lips listened, covetous of real angels token posturing
lovely sweat pouring, like children's hearts pound effortlessly
paths again melting, into the delicate thrill of the still-ordinary
already the transformation, into sweet bruising elation
playful caressing of the passions we empty summer lives into
where all existence strolls fragrant, blossoms from the discovery of it
building up bliss, ceasing breathing, his first friction becoming
imagined time-telling giddy kisses, given and held by her eyes
in this electric universe, purchased time and again
with breath of the impossible imagined.

There are places it's not safe to go;
There are lovers, who don't really love,
Whose heart's lie buried, beneath the snow
Much farther; farther than your soul.

There are places it's not safe to go;
Where thieves would wait for you, just to steal
The moon's cool shadow, where it glows-
But till they die, can't ever feel.

There are places not safe to go
And secret storms, in dead of night;
And people who lie, and never show
Their face, in day's revealing light.

July 5 2010

And I wake up, greedy to live:
The sun climbs higher, in morning’s sky,
While Buddha sits, in his gold-paint statue,
And household saints hide in early shadow,
And woodpeckers do old style tap-shoe.

Coffee smells are rampant now,
The squawk box is rife, with trivial banter;
A nice background sound to go on living to
And the air foams up, at window and door-
The unspoken things are breaking through

A new day's come now, bearing gifts
Unknown, they're already on their way;
Life grows exacting and random, the same,
And again I awaken, greedy to live
And exult in the freedom, to play this game..

When I was young, white moonlight poured in, nights
Through my gauzy white curtains, and the world turned paler,
A ghostly apparition of it's daytime countenance.
The whiteness contained all the emotion, of my whole life's turning
Condensed down into streaming rays of silvered light-
And that moonlight scoured, cleansed everything it touched;
Nothing was sordid, forgettable, unimaginable; the magic turned all
Into a fairy's world, of majestic mystery and translucent dignity.

I trusted the moonlight. Moonlight today is not the same;
My curtains don't block it, but the moon doesn't seem to smile as large
And I know too many secrets and disappearances now-
When I knew less, the fantasies could sustain the weight of my world,
Which has since grown too heavy, and the hour now is late.

I feel if I could reach that lost moonlight one more time,
I could find the other self, the one knew so much more of nothing,
But was secreted between the moonlit nights
And felt satisfied, not yet knowing the deep inward emptiness of life,
And the way the colors get released one by one
From the central altar of night time’s lamp,
And how particles of soul get extinguished;
Released to another life, in the far-travelling moonbeams.

But the moon does not remember bewitching my face,
Which has grown cratered with time,
And while the moon slowly steals our breaths away,
And covers up our eyes with its brilliance,
It's hands pick our pockets nightly,
And take everything there that is light, bright, glowing
To return it to the moon-blinded young.

While we just keep on growing darker,
Until they shove us back underground again-
Now even the moon has forgotten my face.

Fraught in flame and framed by time,
I see your face by the candle's light;
And mercy accumulated, from many small acts
Composes your expression, and makes it soft.

You wear gentleness like others wear flowers,
You count love by actions, not hours;
Your callouses are knots, on a rosary of care,
When you enter in a room, patience takes a chair.

Noble intentions, steeped in palpable grace,
Eyes cast down, when any murmuring goes on;
Against friend or brother; you've naught to say,
Gentle your step upon the world, each day.

In a thousand worlds, are you present there?
Between the dimensions, singing like wind,
Breaking disappointment, pouring out love:
Light in your eyes, your heart a treasure-trove.

My inconstant heart
Tries to touch you, in the boarded up rooms,
The corridors sealed off from my reach.
My recorded voice echoes past empty hallways,
Down decrepit staircases.

Once my portrait hung
Above your bed itself,
Till you partitioned it off.
Even I will no longer grovel
When hope has already flown out the portal.

I'm more dangerous now,
Having nothing left to lose
And nothing to hold onto;
My timbers mutely rotting, while your siren voice
Goes on sweetly singing.

White feathers falling,
When an angel flew close by;
There's nothing up above us,
But I saw him, on the sly.

White downy floaters,
Floating on the sea of air;
In a single eye blink,
I saw him hovering there.

Souvenirs of miracles,
Signs and wonders too:
He knew he lost that feather-
And he said- give it to you.