With hues of rose and soft scented haze
A pale dusk light recoils under my door
Her welcome shimmer I will see no more
As her piercing absence distains my gaze.

Where now will my light live long and old,
Leaving haunted corners so drafty and cold?
Will my dark desires be free to soar?
As light retreats from under my door?

White as new sliced snow,
Black as the fallen crow,
Time stills its random flow.

Deep as the lover’s swoon,
Sultry as the summer’s noon,
Tender like the bud in bloom.

As autumn falters in crimson color,
Shivering cold in pale chill fire,
Love’s flame will come to an end.

Only then will they know...
Only then will they know.

I don't look so ugly now,
since those many worlds have stopped
revolving around me.
Painted only in hues of a colorblind sight,
My colorless life.
Surrounds me.

So loud as I shout,
I am not heard.
As much as I sing,
I am not song,
So long as I see,
I am not seen,
sometimes I know,
It is all me,
But most times,
My dull light,
Is too dim to see.

I see your shady greens,
Your emerald gates of earth,
Your vines entwined in pillars of time,
Lush green leaves conceding rebirth.
Your beauties grace in shades sublime,
And I so surprised to be standing there,
In those most glorious greens of you.

On the red rim of the rose,
A thin frost glistens,
Cold in my bedroom,
A bare bulb flickers.
Deeper grows my longing,
Part the curtains with wavering sigh,
To gaze upon the moon,
Single as the frosted rose,
Now cold outside my room.
Above I see the velvet sky,
Below I see the people scenes,
Of an ever-flowing tide,
Bitter between them drifts my sorrow,
Shall I dream at my dusty window?
Dare I admire the frosted rose?
For tomorrow the frost is gone.

The sounds of her sighs
Slid voluptuously
Long into my wakening nights
She made me a lover,
Of common things,
She made me a lover, of light.

She: Enticing waters with luminous waves,
         that can tempt the dead from their bed.

I: The sinews of my soul stretching for both,
    Her beauties form from where it is fed.

She: A wondrous storm in a turbulent sea
         that has taken hold of the deepest of me

I: Refusing to slip off to a peaceful sleep
   until her waves of desire sing sweet release.

Tell me I am needed,
In your sleep like air.
And not like whispers,
Momentarily there.

Tell me I am seen,
In the orbs of your eyes.
Stare into my face,
Present me no lies.

Tell me I am read,
Between pages of books.
A paragraphs end,
My prologue mistook.

When tired and old,
Lying down in our bed.
Kiss me like I'm young,
And taste what you 've said.

I remember when spring once silenced me,
and summer did boil my blood.
I remember when fall fell scratching,
And winter took hold of my tongue.
I remember when night stood facing me,
Soft praying for the sun to come up.
I remember the dawn of my youth,
Patient I wait for my eve yet to come.

Black snails are drawn
to my vines of green
Sliding so silent
where my vegetables gleam
Slow yet steady,
from my distant dark streams
Running beyond the carrots and peas.
Sliming my spinach
The bottoms unseen
Black snails eat voracious
Till bare earth they leave
Destroying all growth
In my garden of dreams.

The clock on the wall
Keeps making faces
In an endless teasing
Of my time soon to come

Softly sings
the southern rain,
a silver sheen,
On ivy gleams,
Painted vines,
on a painted wall.
Whispered voices,
crisp with color,
A crimson dusk,
dark curtains fall.

Night parts before me,
my moon of envy,
Along the shores,
Were night birds call.
Shadows laugh,
Just made of mist,
As evening’s breath,
Drifts slowly past,
My window ledge,
I sleep at last.

Rinse your worries,
In the spirit of the rain.
Fling your laughter,
In the face of the sun.
Dance round wildly,
In the yard till I come.
Then kiss me slowly,
Till our hearts become one.

What dank dark alley
have you abandoned this night,
crazy yowling trash can cat
to include to me in your song?
why beneath my open window
do you disturb my peaceful sleep?

Not through Spring’s eternal moon
Nor at lighted front of store,
Do you sing your crazy love-sick song,
With lonely yowls forlorn
Do you know I wonder
Where go sleeping souls to slumber?

Be gone your piercing lonely tune
Before I screech my angry song
Before I chuck my shoes at you,
Before you bring the dawn.
Begone, lonely trash can cat,
Allow my dreams reborn,

remembering my mother
i still take off my shoes
just inside the front door

my feet are squishy
from splashing in the rain

i leave gleaming footprints
across the pine floor
trying not to slip and slid

but I just can't seem
to transit quite right

empty is the space
just inside my front door
so full of quiet

asking please for thunder
to appease the rains remorse

Though dry I may yet drown
In the past life of another
Peering out with blue-grey eyes

Hard frost stilled my early morning
In splintered shards that pierced the sky
Cold air lacking in weight and time

On that frosty frigid morning,
I too was someone’s child.
Peering out with blue-grey eyes

I am desperate for her passion
Desperate to squeeze
the night between us
Desperate to feel forbidden

She was a veiled moon born
on the pain of my lonesome sigh
Hiding careful her hurt behind

I am desperate for her passion
Desperate for the taste
of her many smooth things
Desperate to feel forbidden

Winter rain means little to summer,
Falling as it does in December.
But the cool wind of the years end,
Leaves spring grieving for winters relief,
Weeping as the chilly rain,
Then turns into its frozen lover.

Recently I have become confused
over all but my love for her food.

As slow as a milkshakes release,
My thickening thoughts,
Now turn moldy as cheese;

Still for me no sustenance shows,
angry my stomach growls as it groans.

My sugary cascade no longer is sifting
Flour and yeast on air currents drifting
Honied love buns, no more to be lifting

Her menus are missed, entrées we shared,
Her nourishment given, all with great care.

So long my old friend,
May you continue toast
May you continue to blend,
May you continue to roast

Curiously,
My books weigh no less,
after I read them.
But how can this be,
After so much they have given?

Well, so long and thank you
for consenting to this visit
by the mortal life of a forlorn man
traveling outcast with only
his barely beating heart.
Is an abject heart you understand?
Bright red frailty now bled clear,
within to let you peer,
At a stained and ***** past-life

Still, may we converse a while?
Let us live within this day,
exchange a few words, shall we say.
Share some wine, taste some tears.
If only for you to hear,
my lightly murmured pleas.
My heart would then be slightly healed,
Because fondly then could I say
Yes, truly was I here.

There among the broken bottles
Rusted cans and oily puddles
Are cigarette butts and lace *******,
Left lying on newspaper spread for the fun
A stark testament on newsprint
near crunchy old eggshells
all these touched by the cold morning sun
and me against the wall, just staring
frozen inert, thoughts muddled and numb

On alien shores
all waves find end
   Their dying cries
surround me.

Oh mean man with silver hair,
Once well I did know you,
Walked long with you
in the hard heat of the day,
Learning well of the wickedest ways.

Oh mean creature with silver hair,
Your face like a gnarly old tree,
Green moss upon your shoulder,
Hard pale eyes reflecting
A much meaner image back at me.

You taught me to be silver and mean,
As cold waters frosted
by the mid-winters moon,
Stripped naked now of all kindness,
Turned away from such pitying views

Sudden in their startled flight
Of black birds flocking through
calling in the coming night
Across the moon they flew,
Fat round, silent white.

The climbing vine,
With leaves and tendrils entwined,
Around my unused garden *****,
Such a beautiful sight they made.
Of that wooden handle worn smooth,
By my grasping fingers that grooved,
Lend me your beauty oh climbing vine,
For the garden of my soul to be soothed.

I want to inhale you like cool moonlight.
Like I would seek a taste of fine wine,
swirling round, teasing my mouth
I want to devour spoonsful of you sweet
and warm like honey in slow dripping sips,
slipping my tongue between slippery lips.
I want to love you again and again.
Until you're so happy you could cry,
And this is why my wondering sighs
Cannot provide for you my truth.
This is why my eyes cannot lie, and so,
I avoid your gaze in shame.
Shame,
Be it my name.

A Cloudy Prologue:
  
Do you remember?
When once you were but shadow and mist?
Shadow and mist you say?
“But no”, cries the cloud!
I have always been part of the light.


A Drifting Epilogue:

After a stormy night without clouds,
I rose like a dog to a sound
To the memories of my days yet to come
Yawning large in the mid-morning sun

I yawned like loves loss battered
Drawn in with music un-remembered
Or perhaps a wise old tree awoken
In young fields of silence and sleep

I mused however so briefly
on loves quiet definition of beauty
But could not talk a semblance of reason
Into the weather the clouds or the season

I asked loud for the clouds to stay quiet
Yet release their heaviness required
Raining syllables with color and laughter
As I ran wild in the glistening streets

Because clouds do not intimidate,
Only do they imitate.
Imitations meant only for one.

My shadow has gone up the mountain.
Shall I accompany him?
The day is closing, I close my gate.
As the autumn winds rattle my fate.
When early next spring
the brown grass turns green,
Will my shadow return to me?