Fouls words have bruised the tip of my tongue
My raspy thoughts have come un-done
****** are the voices telling secretes in the night
Cold breath shimmering softly to the silver moons delight
Allow those words give birth to the darkness they did stain
When perceptions past are crushed like glass
Their silence still remains
Weeping words in a thousand ways
To wash away the pain.

Your hot blood whispers,
scented secrets in the spring,
whispers of you, whisper to me.
Beneath the jealous moon,
dance naked within my dreams,
while the whole world sleeps,
softly snoring on whispered wings.
But still, your lips are sun-kissed,
Be still all moments now missed,
And out of the jealous moon,
drifts silver-lined laughter,
I see your smile, I feel the wonder,
The breath of your whispers,
exciting my skin,
Always those whispers,
I listen in.…

Let me go
You whispered
And I left you
Left my desire of you
And all our earthly things
Wind chimes and silver rings
On and off your flickering
Of an arbitrary love.
And I went wandering
Through rooms and halls
With soft echoed calls
Waiting for me
To be me again
When sudden
from behind the veil
Was air there fresh
To breathe anew
Cool, rational, clear
A clarity of me
from you.

I died
with a smile
when she left me
there alone
standing on rain darkened stone

I longed
for my shadow
to stretch
from my brain
to my tired and platonic bones

My lids
half closed
Ceilings of my soul
There I stood
Blood coursing in veins all aglow

My shape
Vile, viscous
Tears run sour
cried over
by none but the dark earth below

I mourned
broken windows
through which
droplets of light
displayed my infinite carbon-based life

But… I loved
And so I perished with a smile that night.

I loved the sun.
And so it rained like pain,
upon my questing head.
Drops flowing down my slender stalk,
Fine steel quills drenched again,
Only to bend as flowers do,
Before the will of the wind.

Let us escape in our wonder
let us paint our own picture
let us hang our great hunger
from frayed ropes of hope.
Let us harvest our time,
from such smiles divine
that our hearts may grow strong
with our plunder.

How very small,
quiet she would be,
Walking up softly,
to tickle the tree,
So livid with laughter,
A melody of scene,
Escaping out through,
splayed fingers and leaves.

Fleeting sweet dreams.
So lovely a trill,
her voice would quiver,
Throughout the green hills
a pleasant light shiver,
time sensing relapse,
Beginning to tremble,
So hard she did struggle,
to clearly remember.

Uncovered, unshaded.
Only the tree could bear,
Such artistry unaided,
And shuddered to think,
Her beauty had faded.
As late evening fell,
In amber drenched light,
The light of the faerie,
Leapt into the night.

Among high hills,
Dark streams did glisten,
The wind fell silent,
The tree there to listen,
Restless in sleep,
she waits in her dreams,
for memories so vague,
of tall laughing trees.

To all those silent.
Who remain willfully quiet,
Reflect on this,
When death creeps confident,
Under your door.

She had a clear wind sheltered loveliness,
Like pale streams winding,
Through fair green hills withdrawn.
Dawn,
Was her lifting fancy,
but her heart was cherry blossoms
the color of quietness,
And shade in the afternoon.

But she had always been there,
in one guise or another,
to trace the skies in strange delights.
With her brilliant wings of radiance,
She soared through paths of glittered air,
There were no stars,
no suns to seek,
no Mars, no Venus, no Saturn’s rings
But still she flew in harmony,
Above my jealous stare

Again, the tall weeds
Have grown pale green in my garden
Changed yet unchanged they remain

But I have hurt you
Who looks at me with pale green eyes
Those tears contained of which are mine

Time goes by with evenings glow
Tall weeds grow, pale green and slow
Pain fertilized among them

I hear your silent words
Running among the ****’s unseen
Still your hurt I retain

Sleepless this morning
Green weeds have comfort none,
Hurt, you grow cold colored flowers,

Weeping pale green among them.

Delirium trembled the lemons
Green envy soured the limes
The apples cut with peals of laughter
As the onions started to cry

The berries grew more juicy
When the kiwi told the tale
Of the bananas secrete wishes
To run off with the kale.

Seamstress of my dreams,
upon the break of day
you sew the sleepy
eyelids of shadow
onto my open
eyes of grey.

I’ve not seen her
for a long time now.
Each day above my dreams
I see us hand in hand.
Memories of painful leavings.
If it feels like this now,
What did it feel like then?
I’m glad my now don’t know.

Sometimes I wish for a tangerine tree
So that I could undress the fruit
like a lover, spontaneously

Sometimes I wish for an apple tree
So I could view the fruit as a friend
without need to peel, or pretend.

But mostly I wish for a walnut tree,
so other nuts could drop at my feet,
and have conversations with me!

What the material world values
Does not shine the same
in the truth of my soul.
Long have I been intrigued
by her shadow.
The sun a mere backdrop
to her grace and beauty.
I have need to rest lightly,
In her shade.

A cold wind is whistling under my door,
And the city's naked wail,
sounds pale with the tune.
I see an alley cat crossing fast,
A silent shadow on the roadside path,
And faint I  hear on the wind in the night,
Thousands of typists on the internet.
Instead of wishing for the moment to slow,
To bear me away and watch me go,
I have found your poem so beautiful,
That I forget the cat crossing the path,
To the tune of typists on the internet.

Her hot blood whispers,
secrets in the spring,
whispers of her,
whisper to me.

Beneath a jealous moon,
Silky she lies,
within my dreams,
and while sleeping
the world snores softly
carried on whisper thin wings.

And out of the nebulous night,
whisper-like laughter emits,
I feel her smile,
I hear her wonder,
Her breathing, her whispers,
exciting my skin,
Always those whispers,
I listen in.…

Deliciously delicate she says,
But how would she know?
could she taste her succulent syllables,
as they dripped from my quivering lips?

If you have a moment let me tell you the shortest story,
about arriving at a lovely but lonely place,
the garden of thoughts that thrive in my mind.
My lawn of wildflowers, my shimmering trees,
loving the wind as they sway in the breeze.
Portraits hung on sun-gold walls in rooms clothed with shades of green,
an open-air kitchen to tease the senses with fragrant steam.
These my accessories of a genuine summers dream,
some years ago, before,
when I was somebody, someone’s friend,
someone’s lover, with much to show.
Was a young man then, with much of life yet to discover,
As my hands took from life’s garden the harvest of summer.
I could make light bread and serve it to those I loved,
This at a large table, draped with a cloth the color of sun.
In life’s garden I was found, and loved. My eggplant shone like polished wood,
My tomatoes smelled like their furry stems, zucchini scattered haphazardly,
Tiny teacups lined up on the counter, keeping watch for the sugar tree.
Onions round and plump, lording over their minions of garlic and chive,
some wine of love in a vibrant garden of earthly delight.
And into this very sunny story, many years later, I by myself came back,
having been beaten and blinded by the rigors of life,
and there waited for my dream to return me my sight.
I walked into the lawn, waist-high with colors of orange and pink, yellow and green,
fragrant lilacs swaying purple, the subject of a June’s afternoon delight.
My kitchen there, waiting for my bread of life,
to release the scent of ripe peaches, pepper and spice.
There I was back in my garden a displaced man with gray streaked hair,
with no place to which I wished to return, and no one,
to gather me into their arms when I got there.
No one to love me but the sun and the air.
That day life’s garden received me, and though not real,
I loved it greatly all the same, because it seemed all I had left.
And in that same manner I have learned to love much of the world
Since my absence in life’s garden.
Who is to say if I have less reason to live, or more to love,
Than any other whose life has yet begun,
Who is to say that my garden is not real,
Who is to say?

Life’s regrets and failures,
Have formed as frost on my forehead.
No longer do I have the body
To take me where my springs have led.
Why then do I need to go?

I longed for red lips,
red roses and rest,
soft cotton and comfort,
found upon her smooth breast.

The red of her love so entangled me,
But oh how I did crave the pain
To banish my own mediocrity
And burn in her molten red rain

In our days we danced so wildly,
Through red skies so happy we flew,
But soon our red turned to crimson,
A red much too heavy for two.

Now I long for white roses,
A somber display,
I’ll curse it in horror,
And fling it away.

I dreamt that for you
I had swept a path,
through a bright summer wood
placing soft scented rose blossoms there.

or perhaps,
having no way of knowing,
I had only swept the path
between those many scented roses?

no matter,
tonight the rain will again fall upon itself
to wash away the roses
so strange how the rain tastes like tears.

On his table is a cup,
filled with a need,
to satisfy her receptacle,
of weights and measures,
without such whose proportions,
he could not know.
His own hands mix sugar and flour,
chocolate and longing.
His mind must be precise,
Or her words may grey out,
to a flavorless poem,
a definite defeat of taste.
The chocolate cake he knows she likes,
smooth dark frosting,  
rich with butter.
His mind needs more than tablespoons,
Of sugar and flour, cups of it,
Mixed with a pinch,
Of a sweet sultry gaze,
Sifting through his lover’s day.
Till with his hand he cups her chin,
And turns again,
to mix her mouth with his.
This woman is his table,
And he the cup.

It's you!
I've understood it ever since,  
she who hummed me,  
a most tasty recipe,
To make me gasp in sheer delight!
But Alas!
My gasp was so strong,
that I almost died from it.
Darkened dreams,
so rich and creamy!
If only our lives could always be,
Such a velvet libation,
As the ****** sensation,
of chocolate!

What is it you would like to do she said?
Please listen close I returned…

I would like to ravish your body and mind,
submerging myself in their depths,
It would titillate me,
With fresh thoughts of you,
while I bask in your sharp intellect.
I would tickle your toes with my tongue,
And gaze on your face in the sun,
I would feel your soft lips upon mine,
And laugh as my breath breaths you in,
Your sweet mouth would be
So exquisite to me
As if flavored with berries and wine.

Is there more she said with a flush?
Oh much more I gasped in a rush!

I would give you a candlelight bath,
In water soft scented with spice,
I would sit next you,
Inhaling your dew,
All warm in your wonderful light.
I would taste the backs of your knees,
And all other spots that you please,
I would peacefully sleep,
wrapped up within you,
And wake with you wrapped up in me.

Well she exclaimed, please do continue.
My pleasure, my love, I replied.

I would whisper my longing desire,
while caressing your graceful neckline,
And with the softest of touch,
Enjoying it much,
I would kiss your most lovely behind.
I would wander the depths of your eyes,
While I gasp in continued surprise,
At the one thing I know
As I lounge in your glow
Is that I’ll love you for all of my life.

Well then she says,
What are we waiting for!
Let’s start the bath!
And me?
Well,
I’ll be a rubber ducky!