If you've got a cold you can't taste it
But you can WEAR it in your mouth
You'll love how it fits and feels , makes you want
To parade it against cheeks and jowls and
Anticipate the imminent, soothing avalanche

Stygian moods bring us out
Our crude passions lulled
in the soft wind meeting our waists
as four ingenious match sticks patter
a rhythm in the clean air
and the jingle of a polished silver bracelet
garnished round his furry neck
flouts depression's tight leash

Her head
angled to

Her brushing
so generously so

Much of
it spilling

About her shoulders
her ******* her

Oblivion this
tension this

Lover's stroking
never felt

All good deeming and
all good seeming
casting gold
upon the dark
and the dross
in ancient kindly gleaming.

Despite your sorrow, your grief,
your smile stayed sweet
giving warmth as you
maneuvered through the world,
a solitary, inner orphan
since that awful time a few years ago

The heavy pain you carried
that wouldn't let you be

The unanswered conundrums that
resisted parsing for one so young

Yet all along, there was the inherited voice
lying quietly within you

like a sleeping bird's
awaiting the dawn

desiring to sing again
in splendorous tones

a new day's joyful awakening

February 3, 2015

It is early October.
Late afternoon sunlight silvering the tree tops blowing
on the hillsides all around in mist
rising from somewhere far away...
Last summer one afternoon here on greener grass
I drew you to me, forgetful love has a season,
a torment greater than
between kisses...

You sat fragile and hunched
at a corner table
where the light did not shine.
I watched tears rage in your eyes.
I went to your table and
put 50 francs in your hand.
You led me up the winding staircase.
In our little room
you disrobed in wine air.
I clasped my arms about you,
whispering "Je t'aime, Je t'aime, Je t'aime..."