We live in a world of hungry ghosts.
Endlessly craving & never satisfied.

She rests on broken silence
Combs her blush oer the seething skirt of the red eye
Her lament topples treachery from its poisoned perch
Seared to rock by scaling hands of white fire
The servile on request
opt neath her nestled fleet
ground to dust and chaff

Light bends its mind to the hum of soul
Turns eye in on claim of self
Strips guile from oceans of red ripples
Thick and warm gainst the rich vein of repose
Reigning its sheathing blood electric oer its fawn
Curing  flesh to the heat of its heavenly body

A
cannot

become
B

one who shoots
at 2 targets
splits his eye
in half

There she stood
Tall and assured
Charming but not boastful --

An energizing silence
A magnetic pull, all-knowing
Drawing me closer --

A scar I notice
A defect somewhat
An impurity they say --

She cares not to hide it
She basks in it
Pride in memory --

I come to hold her in esteem
Sets her apart
A quiet confidence --

A connection inimitable
I fondly remember
And she revels in remembrance --

1.
a sculpture of melting ice
evokes the elegance
of your face

boldly
you rise from my inner canvas
like ancient architecture
rediscovered

2.
a flurry of tender brush-strokes
summons the beckoning lines
of your supple body

luxuriant fields of wildflowers
suddenly surround the walls
of my castle of thought

3.
as the trembling landscape
of the present crumbles

nostalgic rivulets of silver and jade
transport me to an island universe:

here all that remains
of the space-time continuum

is the sweet coo of your voice
and the cool crisp glow

of midnight snow

The Sound Of A Teardrop Distilled Into Alien Ears

the faultless sun
sure shot us
an indecipherable gaze
that day

we drifted to the
atmosphere’s edge
naked

like an orchid blooming
against the defunct metal
of an orbiting satellite

we were left stranded
on the rooftop of the world

where regret pools
in wailing shadows

yet
together we formed Pterodactyl wings
and flew away on thin sheets of skin,
the prehistoric wind brimming
with the fitful sleep of ancient matter

2. Her Superior Genetic Architecture

she
a black-skirted spaceship
hiding in the glare of the sun

stepping lightly down
from the clouds

the brightness of her face
swaying under the slow-churning skies

beneath her
doors creak open
in anticipation

the brightness of her face
swaying under the slow-churning skies

the world greedily swallows
her rings of ambrosia
in savory lumps

leaving nothing
for the scurrying insects below