"airiest" poems
*The textures of a star as with her flesh
Are not those that seep nor soften
That they grace the hands divine
With the airiest of moistures or the fluidity
Of fire. It is far from that.
All smoothness that I know I felt
And are all too palpable.
Now I abstain from such,
From such nakedness.
Not the papaya, the apples, the grapes of La Union,
Nor the watermelon kind of touch
But of the moon attenuated, the pierce
Of the narrow light or the folding abaniko,
Could unravel me towards the discovery
Of wild fragilities, little by little, all too tender,
With its river, and its regions forbidden
And its sections.
I circumnavigate my passions
Towards hers.
I shiver.
I have yet to measure a feather,
Her waist,
With my lips.*
© 2015 J.S.P.
Mar 16, 2015
Mar 16, 2015 at 2:47 AM UTC
Your effortless lungs take a chance while you draw in more breath like room, to branch into white air
Awake eyes sharpen your joints' old gold and your neck twists like an earthy stem, soft in the air
the ocean of clear air brushes back its weightless arms for you are its paint
motion and sounds are fresh in color and drip, like the rushing of pine trees in the airiest blue and at dim blue, and your silver breaths each one perfect in the moment above in the sky
the air darkens wide where you've gone clear from colors, after the day washes into night
your heart was the wings ahead of the sky itself, and its the night blue wearing your back now
you are heavy within with breath and the sky opens your lungs and rolls in, because she rolls trees
and her lungs turn to ashes the brown leaves, on grounds that hold the trees in every change in the sky
the folded layers of earth billow out with every new big wind above because it's a sphere, a round bed
you are tossed and turned, you sleep, cry, believe, and exhale
Red fire wakes up at night and curves tall with flowing ends, roaring across the blind sphere
running just past the edges and rims of rivers and trees windows
pushing forward in a plain north, rings of black and light turning to their sides on their arms
black trees open their throat and swallow, and stars burst inside
for stars chase the soul and with great wind kiss the diamonds in the walls, or glow rich brown color
and emerald leaves that make a ringing sound
Jul 13, 2013
Jul 13, 2013 at 7:42 AM UTC
i'm lost somewhere familar
looking at ashy knees in
bath suds with disdain
rose petals sprinkled away
have the loftiest abode
have the airiest dresses,
but i never had auburn tresses
like hers
i was charcoal in
comparison
one of the desert girls;
candles flickered the way
she'd bat her eyelashes
bringing hands to my eyes
i lie on the floor
and i lie to them more
a nightgown hangs the way
the pale moon
did
carpet kissing my bare feet
rosy knuckles grasping a storm
the lake foams over in it's wake
who saves you now
May 10, 2015
May 10, 2015 at 7:03 PM UTC