Early morning, adorned
in a cloak of cerise and viridian,
roams the dark of a seashore
through waves of obsidian.
Summer in pearly decorum,
the harbor blazed with multicolored sails.

Noontide aloft on sundrops
of saffron luminance,
traces the rows of begonia
and shading cumulus.
Summer in amethyst mantles,
the meadow doused with flower-laden trails.

Evening, abliss in the cape
of sunning indigo,
wades in crystalline waters
as the plazas overflow.
Summer in sienna streetlights,
the taverns filled with sentimental tales.

i have never thought
   that wishing for rain would mean
wishing you away

I have these memories of joy and love.  

They’re tattooed on my knees,

Dyed in my hair.



Whispers in crowds,

Laughter in quiet moments.

They seep into my flesh

And stick to my bones.



I couldn’t shake them off if I tried,

How lucky is that ?

~
Mermaid in a manhole
suffering hibernation sickness
she drinks in every sob like wine
her oceanic call reverberates
whilst speaking dead languages
into the receiver
but slipping off melancholy
and blown a wish
by hide-and-seek lips
she chooses an unfamiliar light

****** with scissors
throbs of undamaged energy
from her vernal equinox
but in love with a bad idea
and beyond the minimum safe distance
she no longer plays at fragile volumes
and careful times
hands playing butterfly
pinch nippled skin
she chooses an unfamiliar light
~

rhapsodic pastoralism
as beguilingly bucolic as tempera gardens,
where nature’s wild beauty
is domesticated and made
into a safe space for dream and play,
reverie and revelry.

with the bright dawn
chatter of birdsong
it seems to reach your ear across distance,
like a girl singing happily to herself
while walking down the road
on the other side of your garden wall.

How horrible and happy life is all together
How privileged you are to remember both together
A little bit of patience, barely spanning a meter
To sustain a tiny candle light in the heart of winter
Be still little heart
The summer is almost here
Then the reaping will start
Just as the dew reappears...

In bed, in the dark
below the **** I hear
the hum of the river

vessels curve heavily
loaded in the bend
of the slow time

where we never venture, knowing
what happened to that boy
whom nobody knows anymore

where we swim in summer
a few strokes to
and fro in the bay

build lookouts
and are bored
with the creep of

the little waves
the long barges
the slow time

peering
at new cars or other
cargo on deck

You tread so, unfondly and almost—
too carefully after the echoes
of wintry whisperings, yet swerve—
and twirl in a grand vesture

of fireflies, of distant worries;
dream like a glowing summer
amongst dwindling youths
and enraptured stardust:

solemnly, and dearly too.

"I will be happy, if you were..."
insistent, you professed; yet deny me—

your caged heart.

Your silhouette casts over
the fiery meadow, over—
the vibrant ruins; finds harbour
only, in the eyes of the serpent

and prance wreathed in light.

Caress your clipped wings; embrace—
yourself and bear in mind, always:

I will sit with you in the dark.