Her neck is ivory, wall, tower.
Lips, small, fragile
And are cardinals, yet,
Her eyes clamber, over—
Her eyes are flowers
On the trellises
And her forehead
Needs a kiss.*

© 2015 J.S.P.

There is a silence that our lips
Only know, only make
And only surrender to, somewhere,
Some place, in the rhythm,
With the movement, at the sound,
Of laughters making love.*

© 2015 J.S.P.

Her lips tipped lips
Just as her toes would, have
This wild prairie
Of frontliners, the brave
In love ever-young,
Ever-bud, ever-light.*

© 2015 J.S.P.

Let us bend time and kiss,
A darkness in the light of an infinity,
Of these old, wise ancients,
Of this traffic of stars
Gazing back.
Let us make love.
Let us move with urgencies
And synergies, and Honolulu queens,
As though the moon memorial
Swiftly shifts,
Effaces.*

© 2015 J.S.P.

What can I say?
Already, there are
Flying lanterns,
Falling stars,
Fireflies and all
Incendiaries
In her eyes,
What can I say,
Or cannot love?
Or what movement of breath,
Of mouth,
Can go against
The movement
Of the lips?*

© 2015 J.S.P.

If your soul can leave the body
And with mine collide, commune,
Lavish on this embrace,
You would know, understand
My works, my poetry,
The Constellations,
This sacred art
Of exaggeration.*

© 2015 J.S.P.

Flowers, with their heads,
Swept the wind
Off his feet.*

© 2015 J.S.P.

Without you,
You pour water to the moon,
To the pale burn of this eventide,
My spirit is wet, dampened,
The first snow will escape
From these stars
And I will miss you.*

© 2015 J.S.P.