The orifice of my mouth
compels a tempting desire
To speak in the words
Of a thousand tongues
But I will refrain,
And instead give in
To my overwhelming desire
To eavesdrop,
On the conversations
of books.

First,
I would know her to be beautiful
While carefully walking up to my poetry
In those gentle moments of an afternoon.
Her hair may still be damp
At the ends from just washing it
Smelling faintly of jasmine, a light perfume.
She would be wearing a short tan coat,
An older one,
Slightly ***** at the hem
From being unwilling
to spend money on the cleaners.
She will take out her glasses,
And there,
As the sun streaks in golden sheets
Through the dusty windows long forgotten,
Of a back-alley bookstore,
She will thumb through my poems
Thinking odd thoughts all the while.
Then with a quiet sigh,
She will put them back on the shelf.
And shedding a single tear,
In silence and of whisper weight,
She will say to herself,
“For that much money I can get my coat cleaned”.
And she does,
For the silent price of a single tear.

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

Nightlights, streetlamps,
Convenience store glow,
Lit in a dull meaningless light.
Lives live on another decade or so
The same though, no exit in sight.
Death floats in, begins it all again,
Just as before, all repeats,
Nightlights, streetlamps,
Convenience store glow…

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Through fair green hills withdrawn.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.

Time travels deep amidst you earthly lot,
Are you yet so earthly to be tranquil and free,
From the madding crowds thronging the streets?
What's that?
Your ethereal existence transcends the worldly?
I spot a child picking daisies beyond the roadside edge,
Looking up, perchance she caught sight of me.
Behold the beauty of her daisy’s death,
There is much truth in her reality,
And yet still, I find no better words to explain it.
Then tranquil, earthly and free.

what have I to offer them
unreasonable nymphos in the night
reasons I have none, but only a desire
to quench their ***** of fire
so bring that chocolate sauce just bought
that may be used or maybe not
on buttocks quivering oh so near
while cat-o-nines install their fear
of a pain transfigured sexually
by someone’s orderly advice.
I’d like to show my astonishment
as I run my tongue on buttered skin
how ridiculously gentle I have been
chasing naked up the stair
that dampened patch of ***** hair
but no, their desire has infected me
and now I’ve lost my sheepish grin
now no more shyness
let’s begin.

I found a fairy on a yellow rose along a silver stream.
The rose must surely dream I said,
to raise an emerald leaf, and have you lay within its bud,
to touch and taste your sweet.
This budding bloom she did reply, this slender flower with its dew,
all memories of the rain its blushing petals hold within,
so now this lovely rose and I,
Today we dream for two.

What of the rain I did reply, do drops of rain fall down in dreams?
Happy to leave their cloudy sky?
The rain she says in its defense, makes pools where poppies drown,
They float upon this silver stream to enter a land of flower dreams,
where all our fancies sprout and spring,
Only to return again next year to sing the lyrics of the trees,
And give the bees their buzzy sound.

The fairy stretched her gossamer wings and caused the blooms to blush.
Why must you ask such trivial things,
in delicious moments such as these?
Your questions they are all remote,
and cause the ladybugs to sneeze.
The mystery now I put to you, as a hush fell over the trees
Is have you now, or have you ever
Dreamt a dragonfly dream?

Once, while sharing some wine,
On the tranquil banks of a silent lake,
I asked someone what romance was.
And they told me she was a lone woman,
in flowing gold robes,
smoking a joint upon still listless waters.
Dreaming amid her silver ropes of haze,
she was beautiful and lovely melancholy,
in the evening of a summer's fun folly,
all enveloped by the light of the moon.

Much later my admiring sigh,
travelled across the water
to her still waiting form,
and shattered her silence too soon.

So I stayed up all night,
to search for that moon,
the night sky's only living daughter.
Unaware that my affection,
was aimed only at a reflection,
that my romance had been lost,
in the water.

What dew on the petal,
Who’s moisture before,
Found solace in my uncertain plight?
She of soft flesh,
Her black and white sense,
Will I see her again,
In the stars of the night?
Ideas do drown in spasms of light,
Where poems lay down to die,
But I,
I am slight,
One with, but apart from the night.

There will be thunder,
Cascading in tumultuous waves,
Remember me she says,
As she called for more storms,
This entire world may be the color,
Of my bright electric blue,
And your heart will then turn to fire.

That day as the storms blew in,
A true prophecy was discovered,
When for the last time she said goodbye,
Her lightning soaring through the heavens
Deep sparks flashing in her eyes,
Yet still my burnt heart longed to see,
Her electric blue fire in the sky.

I should have kissed you
in our garden of sighs
under the deep purple sky
while you shook the daylight
from your free-falling hair
that moment knowing only
the thick stain of life
staining fingers tip to tip
colors dripping limb to limb
tasting deeply the seasons
of the whole world hidden
on your **** tender lips.

The one whom I thought of as a teacher
Passed deftly like the shade leaving no shadow.
He drank all the inertia, all the lethargy,
And waited himself in vain for fame.
He was his own omen, and the warning,
compassion for all, breathing torment,
Until he endlessly suffocated himself
On the nothing for which he waited.
I have learned well of his teaching,
It has become me.

Much feeling in my heart
but it's just as if there's none,
Twice I think this
behind my window
but still only smile as one,
The light has a heart
and it too hates parting.
At my window,
the light sheds tears at dusk.

Why did you fade into the dawn so soon?
So far away beyond the lightened hills
natures sounds made a thousand songs for you
Yet could not hold you with the morning dew
We dream of our past, yet dream of you still,
Where are you now, little fading moon?

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.

Shall I dismiss the coming of winter,
An old man bent with burdensome thought?
Shall I forget the fall that found me doubting?
From autumn weans a cold December,
the meanest month of all.

Love said farewell to me,
Though not without her tears.
Did she recall the gladness of those years,
We talked together,
With little laughs?
Yes, but no weeping can be done in half,
So sad!
Out from my open door she went,
Her proud soul torn, her breathing spent.
And though I know not where she’s gone,
Her laughter still I hear,
in the beauty of the dawn.

The memory of your scent so familiar and pleasing,
Like a pale mist lies between me and these lines.
And the north wind washing through this tent,
Sets the cold canvas walls to shiver,
While my mind plays back your delicate quiver,
As my tongue slipped between your glistening lips.
My nerves sting at the spatters of rain on the fabric,
And I am uneasy with the howling of the wild dogs
outside in the night.
In the cold, devoid of light,

Where are you my love?
Why have you thrown my devotion away?

I have a tulips sense today,
soft and sweet, but short to stay
and where it goes no bee can say.
I have a tulips sense today

I told a daisy’s tale today
her petals damp in a sudden shower
that blushed bright pink within the hour.
I told a daisy’s tale today

I pinched a roses bud today,
she pinched right back and used her thorn
To draw my blood and show her scorn
I pinched a roses bud today

I had a tulips sense today
the bloom in mind
was one of a kind
then sadly it faded it away

I had a tulips sense today.

Moth wings flicker
on a porch bare bulb,
The winds breath still,
the trees at peace,
Waiting for the dawn
to come within the hour.
All though my quiet heart
flicker thoughts of you,
But I shall wait perhaps
far longer than an hour

Why so does peace still leave,
When old loves then refuse to fly?
And shall your light then conquer all things,
A prism of impossible pain and sheen,
Until my sudden longing leaps,
Strong at the sunsets peaceful calm,
Only at last to taint my love,
And fall aflame like a sacred star,
Because my love had flown too far?

I can’t meet my selves now past,
And those others of the future,
Are much too far away from me.
Worlds move on through times that pass,
Will my future me, then see light at last?
The ghost of my past five minutes ago,
In future times may let me know,
Impatiently, I wait to see.

As my years went by, I begged for peace,
Freedom from many hundreds of burdens.
I asked you once and received no answer:
What could be better than going home?
A wind from the future blows my curtain,
And my eyes are bright with the evening moon.
You asked me once about good and evil,
Listen for my singing, I’ll be home soon.

Stories of passion,
Turn book dust to relics,
Calming short vowels,
linking verbs unconcerned,
in the stillness of a sunset suffix.

As consonants cry in the wind,
Prepositions fall,
like a predicate’s robe,
While conjunctions,
connect to their sin.

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