The spirited light; the solar-like wind;
breath with its passion; the sun’s copious
****** venom.

I speak of everything and all things
without caution: this noise inside my head;
layers of high pitched harmonics;

the compressed hours between
birth and death; the heart’s heat
ascending and descending;

the end always beginning and again
your Gothic eyes. I have been here
and there, a prodigal hawk

with the flavor of blood-kisses hovering
like steam or mist or a weapon stirring
the body’s carbonic magnetic motion;

never the sky always the silence disclosing
the stillness in death’s fantasy—life and death;
love and loss; a fatalistic dream-reel

as if two mirrors facing each other reflecting
the same vacant image. I remember the faint
trail of finger prints; my impatient pulse

raced into yours. Deserted passions
like roses each one dies the same way
—our emotions mumbled

through love and into the glazed elixir
of a French kiss: In my arms you had fallen asleep
not knowing I had left.

——————————————————————————
From my second book: 'The Second Coming'
©dah / Stillpoint Books 2012  
all rights reserved

"never the sky always the silence"—from Andre' Breton

Search Amazon: "the second coming/dah" and "in forbidden language/dah"