I.
I tremble towards you slowly,
tripping into shuddering branches
as uncertainty whips heavy circles of anticipation
into my glowing soul.

Grabbing your hungry waist
I pluck the moon from the sky like a ripe fruit,
a meager offering to your receptive lips.

For a moment the stillness hangs;
as we melt into the intoxicating darkness,
our senses take to the heavens like magnificent owls
gliding gracefully in the unending moonlight.

II.
Your thirsty stare weaves a cocoon of hope around us,
borrowing the sticky twilight-geometry of spider silk
to meticulously resurrect every splintered forest of past regret.

Of moving on
we know nothing.

As our ambrosial kisses stammer in particles and waves
they ignite into a necklace of slumbering lotus seeds:
thousand-year memories of human regression and procession
that churn like mammoth wheels,
revealing the steady clock-like drift
of our intertwined subconscious minds
which connect like a stomach to food
after a month long fast.

It seems we’ll always have mouths
for filling, won’t we?

And what is freedom but your body pressed against mine?

Our exploring hands promenade in the faint light,
and what a journey those photons have endured:
from sun to moon to Earth
and then into the fierce waterfall
of our cascading hearts.

III.
We covet the moist essence
of our volcano-melted edges
until the segmented worms of possibility
digest the sky into swirling puddles
of florid fever-dreams that
we escape only by rebuilding
our destabilized molecules one by one
in the accelerated consciousness
of our enjoined lips.

The moon has its ways of inspiring awe,
Taking on different forms, challenging static notions of identity—
And when it chooses to shine bright, it affirms it has never been any less a whole—

please!
i want to grasp it
between my fingers without nails
(i bite them off in my neurosis)
and dig my dull digits into it!
please! the truth -- what color is its blood?

i want to hatefuck socrates while
he moans about the mixolydian mode
being drunken and sad.

we tried, that day, to find it
but looking up at the stars
is just a fancy way of looking down,
into our mineral navels
into our vegetable innards!

I'm standing outside
under your star in the sky
please don't fade away

my home is forever
        amongst the stars
lightyears ago I was born
        constellations breathed life into my lungs
and the cosmos taught me
how to truly be free

i'll never understand
how you can both
light me up
brighter than the sun,
yet our memories
can still eat me
from the inside out
leaving me aching
like a black hole,
burning me completely.

fathomless cosmos,
is in an ecstatic trance.
we are in its dream!

LOVELORN SKIES...

She stood on the edge of the horizon and walked it cautiously,
much like a tight rope in the circus.
Her views were spectacular that far out reached miles.
A marvel that only she knew well,
She lit up the world with her burning gaze.
A blaze in all her glory she slowly grew,
Out stretched Ray's she awoke beaming; with a confidence only she knew how to achieve.
A firm believer acquitted of confidence and in which direction,
Much like a helium balloon monolith she rose.

But on her reflection he held her stares,
As he looked into her eyes he could see oceans of sadness.
so salty they trickled and quickly evaporated on her cheeks,
The depths of her soul were illuminated within her beauty.
They were oceans apart.
Her light was now fading as she slowly dimmed,
with a blink of an eye she was gone.
Back beyond the horizon she had rose from sluggish slumber that morning.

He then followed her a day apart,
Night was tranquil.
His ambience was seen by all,
His blueness remained but was illuminated by her power.
Yet she was not seen, not even a shadow.
He moved the tides for her,
back and forth they pulled ; but she was nowhere within his reach.
He cried, but brushed them off into the midnight skies.
Stars then appeared like sequins scattered.
He loved her.

But as she moved farther away he became small, almost incomplete.
His cresent though a smile seen to the naked eye,
was just testament to how far she had travelled almost fully out of sight.
But when he felt her gaze slip from the crevice of his eye.
She returned below him, she lit him up to his fullest circumference.
Months and dates then appeared on calendars,
Seasons of their love documented.
For mere mortals to plan there lives around there story unawares.
Although they never could embrace,
he knew that in that moment she would always return within those last days.
To show him in all his glory that empowered the night skies.

Maggie Evans