-I-

Adoration-
Somnambulists cast
paradise magic, allowing a thimble to fall
upon the floor of our private heaven
(a perfect disquiet to our loving)

We daily reveal our reclusive
sensitivities, a flash (a lowered head, laughing distinctly)
Trailing close behind German poets/path of devotion, a second summit of their passionate influence, rippling generations ago now:

(vineyards caught by grasping suddenness/placating daytime/fig & flame/false tower of Babel, ornamental ruin/he feels owed the sensations of an active spirit, to repent the contrary forces within him/myself)

-II-
                      & upon my reflection in the Cabaret of Hell,
I see a gate perched at the base of my wondrous
Sehnsucht-apparition

                    BLUE MOON                 WALLFLOWER

(or perhaps the other way around?)

Overtaken by oscillating darkness/hall of mirrors (memories)
distorted flashbulb *** and anger

until the acts become indistinguishable from themselves/doubly
******* tigers brushstroked in animal blood... essence of devour/temper/
captivation, incredible lips, pulp teeth, pure excitement all disfigured
& joyous

-III-

My azzurine goddess, faced away in
shame, no wonder why!

(hair let down in a drowsy spill of
uncertain hours, wavering in a sullen high, thickly feeling,
the immensity/pleasure renounced for a cabbalist subliminity)

Mockery of the dead dead dog/blind in boyhood/while
curious ghosts skate across the ice-peripheral of our dreaming

I feel love, and horror/a frigid hand who's body I have dissolved-
-caressing my back tenderly
bordering terrific malevolence

...Later, in another try at my own eternal return, I find my comfort brother, accompanied by an overhead
divination lantern..

pounding! At the sun skull, for you (my cherished)
are of high order
I tempt soaking the cloth,
to steer the intention

..missing black mass, indulging instead
on feverish Damascus perfume

Splash ramp
down. Flesh, wailing
vampire/poet
hidden by darkly earth to inevitably
decay by their self-solitude

(descent writhes in the milk of heartache
and cusps the night firmly in his *****
withering palms)

I refuse this fate, and
in Western-fashion
fire down the city worshipper which was once
I, too        (unmercifully so)

..burying his bones in the Scottish dirt

Terrarium hydrangeas, pale (yourIrises) lipstick daggers
slashing in the white sleeve-
red with epicurean
baptism

-IV-

Big bad wolf
banished to his hole,
I kiss the winter fruit clean from your mouth (succumbing to pinnacles of fire/your lost domain) ******* on pebbles, trying to crack through the surface
like a dragon's egg for pride
(big bad wolf is hungry)
We wear away the season, memorizing the newspapers
which are tossed carelessly to our door. Ah, the kitchen ballet dancers are finally tired..endowed to the triplicate beauty
that we individually define (takes a bit to get there)

You/I privileged to ******* Venice with our mutual
imagination,                              owing to Calvino

To crave eachother
as an Acrobat craves the

trapeze

Captivation

James Desire



Confusion erodes my mind,
as I re-read the words that have been engraved in time
words from the one I claimed was mine,
but never really was...

It wasn’t allowed
you and I, Forbidden
yet we tried to break the rules
and rebellion just wasn’t enough

Time with you was priceless
now it seems it was all meaningless
and I’m not sure why
You said, “I will always think of you as my baby”
but now it seems like you don't even know me
and I know a lot has changed, but I’m not transparent
“Can’t you see me?”

-Sigh-

Why’d we have to drift apart,
Didn't you believe the promise I made you,
that I would never leave you,
that I could never replace you?
It’s like it was goodbye forever
and you let the rain reach us
just so that it could teach us
that I couldn't protect you anymore
and it was time you broke free

Now,
time has changed the girl I knew and loved
into a woman whose has enough and scorns the world for the pain it delivered
our ties never really broken, just severed
by tension or little disagreements

Is this enough to break the friendship we once had or are we just calling it quits?
and for the record you may not have been captivated but I was,
just not by who you are at the moment...
With all this said,
Do you still think of me as your baby?
because after all we’ve been through,
no matter what you say or do,
I’ll never want to leave you.
You will always be my baby.

As always words are just words until proven otherwise,
but do you really think that these words have no meaning
because if they have none, then all of this has been for nothing
your amusement of my emotion, all because of a thought, a simple notion,
that I wasn't good enough for you...

A magician's most prized possession is captivation of the eyes.
A lover's most prized possession is captivation of the heart.
A devil's most prized possession is captivation of the soul.

SPRING

I slowly unfurl to the World
Stretching up to the sky blue
And sense an early morning chill
Of Spring waking me anew.
Each day grows a little warmer
As daylight hours extend
Making this leaf feel fresher,
Tothe bright sunlight I bend.

SUMMER

I’m at my most greenest now,
Hot sun burns upon my veins;
How glad am I to finally enjoy
Those cooling, copious rains.
At which point, I pour in drips,
A refreshing, rousing trickle
That falls on grass and buttercup
Teasing them with a tickle.

AUTUMN

Mists have now arrived, enshrouding
My form with heavy dew;
The greens has all but leached away,
Bled from veins no longer new.
Down below the tree are vivid reds
Browns and translucent golds
Which, increasingly each day now
People their captivation holds.

WINTER

The first frost of Winter
And a biting, northerly breeze
Cut into me,and scores of others
Were torn from their trees.
I’ve fallen now, to the ground
All wrinkled, and utterly fragile
Awaiting my final hour
Until, I meet my funeral pile…

Diminutive in frame and stature
defines him not, but instead enhances the
brilliance of his smile’s shine.
The golden flakes of honesty in his warm brown eyes
covey one vice that is captivation.
They hold hostage your most destructive thoughts
to instantaneously
replace them with the best; of
joy, contentment, and love-the best of him.

His high cheek bones define a mouth
so perfectly constructed.
They rise and fall like oceans’ waves with
every gentle gesture.

He thinks of love as a pool of chances
and illogically
he dives into the hurt he’s found himself in once
twice, no wait, three times.
But still, he never falters to give “chance”
just one more chance to prove he’s done what’s right.

Secondary comes his needs, in light of someone else’s.
The thoughts, “too tired” or “too busy” does nothing for him because
if someone needs help, you help them undoubtedly.
I  have seen the coat that once
cascaded on his back give warmth to one
who had no coat
or smile
or joy
or light.

And for that one he lowered his head
to ask God for a favor.
I met this guy, this “perfect” guy when innocence consumed me
and since that day we’ve been each other’s confidant and comforter.
My love towards him supersedes that of a friend or
the best of that.

The truest thing I know is that when everyone one else
disappears to the mundane norms of life,
he will be there with me to cut through
the silence with rolls of laughter.
At what? It does not matter.
Because when I’m with him and he’s with me
there is a “we” that is formed and that “we” is captivates me

An infinite truth is that I will never stop
loving this young man.
He keeps my heartbeat steady so I
must exclaim the best of
joy, contentment, and love-the best of him.

Your face, full of elation.
Sweet perfection, no frustration.
Summer memories, nostalgia hemorrhage.
Let's stay here, far from Anchorage.
What you've taught me, you might never know.
Wherever you are, that's where the wind blows.
Currently, these currents take me to you.
An act, time and again, time could never subdue.
While we do reside in the days long after,
Never could these months be a diminishing chapter.
I can feel them still, as relevant as ever.
The prime cultivation for something that will grow forever.
Close your eyes, I'm sure you can see those nights.
When loves only concern was to avoid a sugar spike.
This new captivation, this magnified fixation,
The love savior, our separate emotional asphyxiation.
That innocence needs not be continually longed after,
Because for now we shall continue writing, until we reach our final chapter.

In her radiance
I
Lost my vibrant
And
Breathtaking the harbor nights
With
Sleek silky red dress
And
Quibble over the sacrilege
Of
Pin sized consciousness
Then
Sealed with a kiss
To
Perpetuate the captivation
Without
Feeling poignant
So
Once fold the old fiasco
Now
All the harbor air
Smells
So right.

In captivation I seated myself
Like that of a coaster ride
Leaving my morals and my sanity behind
The notion of such adventure led me blind
through wasted times I lost all purpose the sense to focus with open feelings floating in the surface
With earnest genuine of my excitement and my nervous
Night falls
Quicker than wood left burning in the furnace
Like the ashes of memories that once were, left to dissipate forever all across the ocean
Synchronized in motion you managed to reach shore
Whether unaware or inability to care you left me drowning in emotion
Sunk for years that I was
That your presence left me like an alcoholic that your absence kept me drunk
Swimming through barriers of heartaches to believe you were the one
And I was done..
searching through the abyss of all seas
Rising to new surfaces in hopes that I could breathe
Knowing that in you I'd never come to reach,
the finding to know love..

it's not healthy for my heart to run miles on a few drops of water.
2. you make my mind and body curious.
3. my eyes are sleepless from unanswered questions.
4. i love incorrectly.
5. i want to build my home in the unsurveyed land of your heart.
6. i can't crown an adjective with your name.
7. you are too blind to see the effects of your spell.
8. confusion and comfort don't seem as different anymore.
9. i don't know if i'm just lonely.
10. you simultaneously incite my captivation and confusion.
11. you can stifle my anger.
12. i miss something that was never mine.
13. you take me out of the present.
14. you are a stain that I cannot remove.
15. i'm surprised that I still trip for you when we cross paths.
16. i poured my heart out to you, i'm unsure if you accepted it.
17. my mother says she adores you.
18. since you give me no answer, my imagination makes answers for you.
19. i fear that you are turning into my tattered safety blanket.
20. you are running within every inch of my skin.
21. you called me lovely.
22. i take things personally nowadays.
23.  i wear my heart on two sleeves because it has made a space for you.
24. i am wandering around an abandoned refugee camp for my sustenance.

I am a jigsaw puzzle…
Packaged, broken down and oddly pieced.
Vivid colors. A curious captivation.
Although… with time they have faded…and creased.

Handed down like an antique quilt.
Fragile and warn, only portions of my picture complete.
Left wondering if I will ever be seen as one.
Admired as whole, even with corners somewhat oblique.

So I set out on a journey:
Re-genesis of the soul.
Craving colors unimagined:
An apocalypse of the world of dull.

Along the way I caught a glimpse.
I unearthed Utopia.
A world lent only to dreams and fairytales.
Yet I couldn’t seem to give in and face this phobia.

I continued along my search.
This time with a new groove in my step.
Part of me wanted to turn back,
But that could’ve meant loosing the little I had left.

I felt something flowering within.
I may have looked away, but that moment a seed was planted.
Roots of strength embedding themselves into my soul,
A new chance at life finally granted.

Fresh oxygen to inhale,
As this life grows inside of me.
Battling with worry and yet no panic at all.
Something so charming and enormous, the world deserves to see.

Branches of love breaking through my surface,
A bungee cord tugs, than allots some slack.
Leaves of unwritten memories begin to evolve.
This budding life needs nurture…I need to turn back.

Before I can set foot to turn around…
Utopia at my fingertips.
Life, nurture…a wonderland unsought.
And that is all before the meeting of our lips.

Kissing me
Vicious was my scheme
I made a story of tainted glory
Anticipating his biding sincerity
Craving the touch of my hips
Misplacing perseverance
Delaying conscience
Losing rationality
Watching his admiration
Over compensating captivation
Realizing his conspiracy

she has spent eternities despising herself
searching in the mirror for the existence
of an ethereal reflection
staring back into her ocean eyes
whispering soft lullabies
an abundance of external lies
for it could never match
the true beauty and radiance
that resides inside


the most impeccable love story
is the one she holds with herself
for when she comes to realize
the resiliency of her bones
the captivation of her words
the radiance of her dance
and the effervescence of her energy
she drips in empowerment
like sweet honey
drips from the wildflower

His palm is a sepulchre,
It holds captives and sun-rays.
Macabre consolation fractured his skin.
He who embalms the petals of my words,
to paint forlorn attempts.
With keen acumen he carves the coffins
And adorns the figures of decay.
As alchemists, he works,
to convert base spirits into colours;
Immortal for all the decades of disdain.
His palm is the afterlife,
It keeps hummingbirds and streams.
Unholy droplets cured his cells.
He who puts me on hold,
like soulless novels on his shelves.
As soothsayers, he says,
"You count your pulses; no longer."

Adamant, nocturnal dalliance
Egregious, insidious, velvet ambiance

An unyielding, dark but brief love affair
The flagrant, seductive and comely au pair

The Eclectic, unmatched, Androgynous Circus
Red devils, black sheep and felines in service

Contortionists, gypsies, and malevolent magicians
All twisting to a dance played by faceless musicians

A night in Tunisia or a place above the Siene
Where else but all in the shadows of dreams?

Enchanted, redolent wonder of festive illumination    
Her eyes absorbed, glimmering in the lush captivation

Enveloping, engulfing silk around our bodies
Days, nights measured by tragic commodities

Arpeggios, rippling across glistening string inventions
Bowing cellos; cellists bowing with audience permission

Masks, costumes, carnivals and the golden mirror
Cerulean dripping limbs that slither while near her

The alabaster piano played by a three-armed puppet
The statues turn and welcome us for a crumpet

Maria Callus sings Ave Maria backwards then stops
The statues and demons laugh while playing with props

“This requiem for the living, begins with a kiss”
The statues said in a tone of voice I could not resist.

“Our overture shall be a ******, a nail in the coffin; a death.
All while you swallow the nectar on your lover’s last breath.”


Needles protruded my head
And I watched as my love was torn
Limb from limb
While the jackals and ballroom guests
Fornicated on the spilled blood and guts
I cried and they cheered as the lights dimmed
For All I could see was the sight of them leave
Into the darkness.
But the noises were as loud as ever as hands
And digits groped my body.
Moaning voices and rhythmic thrusting
And tongues in my ear
And teeth gnawing on my neck
Pain felt, endured, experienced
Then
I was released into the middle of the scarlet draped room
When the phlegm of ****** fluids whipped into a dried crust

A sharp edge stabbed me in the back of the neck
Running along my back, through my spine, down my skin and ending in my ******.
Mechanical hands ripped apart my skin  
I slid out of my flesh like a serpentine ******.
I stood there
shaking from the excruciating, unfathomable pain
the grid and design of my muscular system bare and seen.  

From the pieces of my departed lover,
the master with the many mechanical hands
slathered the slips
and sleeves of her skin onto my own.

Needles and thread went to work.
The puppet master sewed.
The healing plasma
the drying blood
the encapsulating tears lubricated my whole

Once he was finished, I was dunked into a pool of clear gelatin.

For hours I soaked and became whole again.
Then I rose and I was dressed
the finest garments, from across the globe.
I sat once again at the table where the statues invited me.
The musicians, the magicians, the demons, gypsies, masks and serpents
Watched and gleamed
while I sipped my tea

I out spread my fingers.

Layers of skin and stitches

No more hair.
No more nails.
Not just a regular face
but one all shall remember.

I was born as one

Then made from many

In the imminence of zealous devils in my wake
Of the attrition I have forsake

Now as the curtain rose and the spider-silk strings hoisted me up on stage
The master showcased my story to all whoever wished to engage

“Adamant, nocturnal dalliance
Egregious, insidious, velvet ambiance

An unyielding, dark but brief love affair
The flagrant, seductive and comely au pair

The Eclectic, unmatched, Androgynous Circus
Red devils, black sheep and felines in service

I am Vincent Andromeda
Your Strangelove phenomena.”

I want what you have
I want your dreams; the ones that scare you shitless
I want your secrets; the ones you can’t share with anyone
I want the thoughts that keep you awake at night; the ones that excite you
I want the ideas you want to share; the ones you know you never will share

I need what you have
I need your arms around my waist; the arms that will never be there
I need your lips pressed against mine; the lips that mine will never touch
I need your ***** smile smiling at me; the smile that will never look in my direction
I need your stupid ugly khaki jacket around my shoulders; the jacket that will never be near me

I wish that I have what you have
I wish I had your idiotic confidence; the confidence that I will never get back
I wish I had your insanely smart brain; the brain that has put up barriers against me
I wish I had your annoyingly inappropriate jokes; the jokes that you stopped telling me
I wish I had your ability to captivate the world; the captivation you no longer use on me

I yearn for what we could have been
I yearn to have an unconditional love; one that will never break
I yearn to have uncontrollable kisses; ones that we are unable to stop
I yearn to have cheesy promposals; ones that make everyone jealous of us
I yearn for extravagant valentine's day gifts; ones that make me want to scream and cry

You don't want what I have
My dreams; the ones that will never happen
My secrets; the ones that will tear people apart
My thoughts that keep me up at night; the ones that can even terrify me
My ideas that I want to share; the ones that would wreak havoc on everyone

You don’t need what I have
My thick messy hair; the hair that constantly falls in my face
My ***** brown converse; the ones with the laces falling apart
My empty grey eyes; the eyes that stare straight at you watching you ignore me
My annoying voice; the voice that says ****** comments to protect herself from your friends

You don’t wish to have what I have
My brutal honesty; the honesty that burns bridges
My crazy distrust; the distrust that worries my mother
My unbelievable pessimism; the pessimism that causes people to leave
My need to control everyone; the need to control that consumes all of my thoughts

You don’t yearn for what we could have been
You don’t yearn for unconditional love; not with me
You don’t yearn for uncontrollable kisses; but with her
You don’t yearn to give cheesy promposals; you would do anything to be with her
You don’t yearn to give extravagant valentine's day gifts; you would give anything to be with her

No matter how much I want...need...wish...yearn for you
You will always be wanting, needing, wishing, and yearning for her more
She is the pulsing red dot you are moving towards
I am barely more than a blip on your radar.

He's cute.
His soul is beautiful, despite every imperfection, forcing me to crave the moments he opens up and takes me into it.

He has gorgeous brown eyes.
Under a layer of determination, arrogance and confidence, his eyes tell the story of rejection and self doubt. They are strong. They tell a story.

Messy hair, don’t care.
I’ve never known someone who could care less and seem so beautiful for it. Captivation without trying shows the true person.

His hands are strong.**
Yet for every twisted weakness within, I can melt in his arms. I wish I could stay there forever.

I long for your touch or your smell and
the way my heart takes over my actions when I am with you
you're my everything

I.

I used to be a crocodile.
I knew no risks, no tears, no joy
no excitement to lure me above water,
no work, for it was cut out for me
in the shallows with the small fish,
no heavens to make up for,
no hells to hope for,
no soul to shatter on mid-spring days
when all life is but a nightmare
and clouds are all but
******* on my head,
who granted to desired effect
that siren hoped for,
who sits upon the sandy shore
and whispers sweet songs to me, myself
evolved,
and repeats me back
the songs I taught her,
"Over and over again,"
she mocks.
How Neptune did churn his waters
to beach a loveless Odysseus here
shall ever be unbeknownst to me.
But
beeswax I have fixed in my ears,
but
now I cannot hear my other friends
in the trees.
but
once I make my flight from this island,
away from the crocodiles,
and starvation,
and sirens,
I will take it out, and
I will hear!
by God! I will hear
and be heard!

II.

No sound.

The siren's lips move;
the water recedes.
the sky grays.
the crocodiles come.
I am drawn near
by her lotus lips that bid me down this tree
but
I must not dismount.
but
a second siren in the trees
has been picking out my beeswax.
Two songs.
The reptiles draw ever nearer to
the siren, her song is the loudest.
The second siren sings a song
of warning                              and captivation.
              

I dismount the tree
to fight back the green menace, and save
the first siren.
I knew these fellows once.
They were my friends,
and now do I slay them.
I see only jaws and red blood now,
and now am I defeated.
The crocodile has taken her as prey,
so familiarly,
for I was a crocodile
once.

Dissatisfaction an empty abyss
Deep in now a well known limb
Hope severed, intangible, a ghost
Screaming without a sound
Bleeding without a wound
And these strings fatuously tuned.
Inebriate and stumbling through
an ocean of nobodies, all together, unseen
Without a purpose, an insect
Abiding another nobodies law,
Rebellion restricted by a Metropolitan claw
Steel bars in my own conscience
Dreaming the escape, yet alone
Soaring through time
Captivation doesn't last
A welcome blessing and an unintentional curse, yet alone
and innocence is now grown

cliche, boring, bland and weak
based upon a foundation of chic
pseudo-intellectual

you distract from your lack
with your apathetic crap
entomology and intonation
i call it character *******

you do it too often, many of you
just be who you are so we can shine through

i just have to get this off my chest...
your subject matter concerns love
who would've guessed

it rhymes and chimes and deliverance isn't best
and if one skims just beginning and end
there is no need for the rest

lacking originality
either resolve or contradiction
not cryptic nor a riddle in sight
not an original thought nor display of risk

you can learn here from this one write
what you could never tell east from west
and even though, you'll be better so
it will never be
as clever as thee
so just hide behind your traditional text

its not that i seek to pick on the weak
its quite the contrary-

start over with command
so you understand
it is the fraudulent that i detest

it is lack of interest and tact
and i won't take it back
your technique is as the rest.

you slack in approach
you couldn't hold my attention
from the first line
to the next

no captivation
no eccentricity
no enigma
flooding, you are, a pest

parasitic in your relentlessness
attention seeking for all the wrong reasons
leading poetry to its death

you bore me truly
insincerely yours,
unafraid to best.

see,
love is like a roller coaster ride
increasing thrill
through every kiss

there are many twists
and turns-
heartbreaks
and empty emotion

it is
held under
the suspense
of the quiet air

sometimes it is gentle
just like the wind
blowing across your hair
whipping every lock
carefully.

this ride never ends
my dear
heightened feelings
bring upon a euphoria
that cannot be compromised

(b.d.s.)

The man in the moon swallowed me whole,
Just as I began to admire his soft glow;
There he was, knowingly smiling over
The scary affairs of my teenage cares.
Apparently, I should mention
My attention was too much,
The perfect remedy for pro-love prevention.
Just in case it was neglected,
I must warn you,
Affection to your reflection sways you
To believe your giggle is perfection.
But when you are presented with rejection,
You’ll step back with a confused expression,
Wondering what happened to his original affection.

Now, I proceed.
I concede
Wooing the moon is harder than
Shaving a true hippie on ecstasy or ***
In the middle of the sea.
Why do I love someone who constantly
Turns around and hides himself
Whenever seconds pass
Only to tease me with peeks of his soul?
Oho what a divine mystery!
He’s a maze with infinite doors,
More complex than hallways,
More intriguing than apple cores, skin pores, folklores, or antique stores.

But
He wears a different face every day,
Masks of white, amethyst, and grey.
And
He seduces a variety of personalities,
Of intellectual minds, of our kind.
With his charm that, more than good, does harm
To us; who have put forth increasing
Efforts to make his eyes glitter,
We who pride ourselves on mental capacity, titter
With giggles,
Because we cannot think of a better reaction,
We are so consumed with him.

Freedom from the man in the moon’s
Enticing effect came only when I saw:
His redundant, repetitive cycles of beliefs and views,
Only sometimes were they new;
His aloof disconnection from others,
Even when I carefully showed the best parts of my soul;
And
The Fact
That so many others found him
Captivation, enchanting, and beautiful
Without the knowledge or understanding
Of his desires, values, or issues,
Of his dreams, sorrows, or needs.
Ignorant, blind, obsessive aspects of infatuation
Sicken me.

Now, for the better, I relay with
Content at this little success that it is
Much easier to tease, to debate,
To befriend the man in the moon
Now that I can resist his effervescent
Glow.

Still, I acknowledge, anticipate, and dread
The algae, the residue of my ephemeral love,
The waves and cycles of my affection;
Still, I crave a lucid connection to his mind, to his soul,
For I know enough
To embrace his being as consistently
As the sea kisses the sky.

But hardly does he ever show all of himself to one,
But always does he offer smiles and woos to all;
So, patience is my haven.
Empathy is my understanding;
Distraction, my refuge, my remedy.

Eventually, the man in the moon
Might attempt to love me
Fully.
Who knows with such an
Inconsistently predictable being?

she whispers poetic metaphors
comprised of beautiful words
into thirsty ears
and watches as hungry eyes
become enveloped with stars
as they imagine the beauty
of her love

she tells them
¨he is the earth
and i am his moon
orbiting around him¨
orbiting for him

but
you see
an orbital´s path
is not paved by love
for she often asks herself
if she was really in love at all
or was it simply
his proximity
which so forcefully
pulled her in

for closeness
is what tore the moon
from her own established path
amongst the stars
when she encountered
the inescapable gravity
of another celestial body

the moon
diminutive and frail
in comparison
had no choice
but to succumb to the earth´s captivation
and redirect her path
to assume a new orbit
around a new focus

instead of progressing forward
she now knows nothing
but the same hideous loop
and like a scratched record
it repeats itself
over
         and over
                           and over
                                            and over
again

and every taste of freedom
simply brings her careening even quicker
around the next corner
until she becomes
all too familiar
with the same series of events

so she convinces herself
she's fallen in love
then that she's fallen
back out of it again
except
she hasn't really fallen anywhere
her mind simply adapts
a new narration
for the same spiral storyline

she never really loved him
for while they were close
momentum prevented their hearts
from ever truly touching
(for if the moon and the earth
drifted too close
they would collide)
and she will never know
now that she has become entranced
by a new planetary orbit

and as she tells the story
of how the moon
fell for the earth
the paradox of orbitals
was the perfect disguise
for her sinister love


x.

Does shiny hair really matter? Or painted nails?
Or glittering eyes? Or soft, soft skin?
Yes. For the initial rush, they have no match.
Undoubtedly we are familiar with the captivation, the dance.
The trouble is, there are only so many ephemeral rushes.
Until they become tired. No, not from the busy nights.
But then the freshness oozes forth and gushes like a river
The freshness, the capacity each has
to be a relief,
to sooth,
to put at peace.
There is nothing like it.
A college freshman, realizing what it all means.
It is a means to an appreciation. Yes, definitely from the busy nights.
The nights filled with getting to know someone
in the un-Biblical sense.
There is nothing quite like the yearning, the hunger.
The lust for understanding.
And let me tell you, there will be tiny lingering questions.
But they are not as important as the perpetual question:
How much did you love?

It was always 1907 Freight car
The Hobo would fall asleep in a freight car yard
Having no place to actually live
But a good heart that wants to give
However, the Hobo happens to be a noun and not an adjective
It was the Holy Smoke Freight yard that caught the Hobo’s attention
But this Hobo’s story is his own presentation
A Hobo broke and having no job
Negative reactions feeling like a mob
The Hobo once had a home
But he was yet all alone
The only thing he would do at this point was to continue to roam
The Hobo was one who always loved to travel
The thought of the entire United States with inspiration in captivation of marvel
So one freight car became the Hobo’s personal home
He travelled everywhere and got rest beyond compare
The Hobo travelled far
He got around without a car
The freight train would normally stop in a town or a nearby city
But numerous people had no pity
However, the Hobo didn’t pity himself
He refused to be like everybody else
He lived and rode the freight train as if it would be a lifetime
But the freight car was the Hobo’s space
A freight train having no problem with the Hobo ride
The Hobo lived his life in being his stride.

The artist chose concrete to sculpt The Kiss.
Playfully made the woman taller than the man,
his gaze uplifted, filled with total captivation ---
lemur eyes, mustached smile, desire unmistakable.
Her arm about the nape of neck, hand caressing cheek,
certainly she cherishes him, intentionally stokes his passion.
Concrete the perfect medium for immortality.

This image implanted firmly, as I take my morning walk,
when it hits me, somewhere between Key Bank,
7-11 across the street, and John Deere lawn equipment,
why it is, women place such importance upon relationships,
why they love us, despite flaws numerous as wharf rats.
They have an unremitting need for romance.
That's what the sculptor knew and finally I do too.

I know a Damsel in Distress.

Not in the sense of being bewitched or trapped in a castle far away.

Not lost, or stolen, or taken away.

She is surrounded by knights she deems peasants while she searches for a knight to take her away.

There are no warlocks, wizard, witches, or dragons in this tale.

No captivation, just her mind that locks her away.

I know a Damsel in Distress that I tried to save.

But she thought me a demon and pushed me away.

Gold's untarnished yellow feigns
dawn's igniting of soft edges behind a mountain cloud,
or sunset's beacon flashing reflected from home's far window.

A diamond's clear flash imitates
bright glints of blinding sun across the afternoon shore,
or a star's brilliantly precise ray through eternal night.

A sapphire's velvet marine resembles
the limitless horizon between azure sky and tropic sea,
or the vertigo of fathomless water below suspended feet.

An emerald's tantalizing green mimics
the vividly penetrating beam warming a rainforest's singular tree,
or the disarmingly beautiful captivation of a strangers eyes.

A rainbow necklace of delicate gems pales
on a summer afternoon porch shaded by stately trees
and a butterfly sanctuary of whimsical flowers,
calm breezes stirring blue shadow leaves
brushing intimately on white shiny paint.

By accident these jewels mirror life's ephemeral essence
Grasping for this illusion to hold fast the spirit
distracts one from living.

One can cling to stones for one's life,
Or
One can live moments for infinity.

The sky was ablaze like glass in the church;
recumbent on stone floors / we had knocked out

the windows to let in only the blind light,
the blind arches that pointed heavenward, now yawning

narcoleptic houses of God grasping at sky and god
somehow / we captured daylight in our hands / we were

yearning for ourselves again between long hours of waiting
we believed in gods that breathed that great sky, we believed

in the breadth of cosmos more dazzling
than the church doors that we blew asunder

in that latter architecture where we decided the height
& breadth of the pillars in their proportions like

the proportions of man, exhausted & exaggerated,
man exalted, exaudi, exaudi, voca meam quam olim Abrahim

praises to all our lords on high, we sang in drunk
communion hailing, our communion with one another,

all of us there on the stone flags, hands in hands
we beat at the chests of each other, the eyes of each other

(we were just kids beating off to one thing or another)
and it was *** and chaos between those stone walls, it captured

us, bewildered us, those yawning heavens under the church ceiling,
the one that blazed with the dazzling color of windows

covered in dust like our skin the way it crept along the stone
and we craved it and the way that it seemed to creep,

the sky seemed to creep above us, seethed with light
some days we didn’t know which way was light, up

or lower down, it was usually easy to tell after you came
but we exhausted our voices, exaudi exaudi orationem meam

believing that something would hear us—we heard ourselves
more clearly in the throes of ******, nothing was more alive

more human, than anything, than anything that sang like that blazing
sky/ so we tossed ourselves forward into lightward, lightness

dazzling ourselves with light / it was the summer of everything closing /
the bewildering truth of our own god in cells and precious molecules

we made god in the throes of ******, worshipping in the dazzling sky
we had to propel ourselves forward, it was our stunning captivation

with that dazzling maze of flesh on the yearning sky, hands
searching inscrutably for hands, for god in the feverish sky, god

who doesn’t live in the sky, the god who climbs
with us, the god who screams in our ****** with us,

exaudi, exaudi, orationem meam, ad te omnes caro veniet…