"silking" poems
My skin goosebumps with the breeze
Early July melting silking soft, my vision
Lucy firing metallic spark neurons
Across the liquid night sky
Sulfur edges closer in it's hazing accent
Pool water lapping against the edge
Makes me giggle
******* hard, eyes wide
I take it all in
in awe
The laughter of our captured youth echos
Mountains stand in shadowed silent regard
Cradling our memories, pasting them
against our walls
I lean back in pure joy
Deep sigh of contentment
Overwhelmed by sensation
Sizzle singed, stretched thin, just need a little closer
Inhaling the scents of independence
Cut grass, twilight dew, chlorine
Charcoal takes me back every time
Chemical rearrange pulls spastic front to back
All I can think about is having you here
Jul 6, 2014
Jul 6, 2014 at 1:19 PM UTC
If you ever see me,
hugging someone,
let me remind you first:
the days, nights, hours,
minutes, and seconds
of silking waves
dashing on shores
of rocks, sands,
splashing to reach
the cottoning skies,
of our locking ears
capturing candy melodies
of Eden voices,
who sound as if
they were listening
to what I touch,
to what I see,
to what I absorb,
of my soft carrying
of such beautiful globe,
I, your Atlas,
You, my Gaea.
But then you choose
to desert me still,
to stay on his shores,
of overrated sands—
stones, rocks, pebbles,—
as if addicting as
their addicting brothers.
I tried, my dear,
to ride this boat,
to leave that shore,
full of echoing sands,
diamonds to your eyes,
cigarette ash to my hands.
Remember, my love,
if you ever catch me
locking my arms
with another wings
only as welcoming as a home,
for my heart overflows
with unused salt water,
and here is someone
who chooses to catch
every single droplet
of such salty sugars.
She understands,
I do hope so,
that it was not
a tie of everlasting string,
for my soft diamond rope
is still connected
to the harbor of your shores,
waiting for you
to pull it back,
the moment you will utter,
Escape, Escape, Escape.
--for A.
Mar 17, 2011
Mar 17, 2011 at 6:28 AM UTC
shroud me in
his warm silhouette
do soften me still
to the tugs on the barrow
to the honeypot and rosa peace sitting
some too fragrant in the sill
to tendrils of queen anne's lace
silking up the wheel
lost in his travail
to his oil soiled clothing
and pearly white chrysanthemums
and lilies for my biding
when I might again
see him tinkering and typing
to oleander twining
'round the spine of his shade
to the sweet scent brewing in the kettle
so, soon his perennials
settle into themselves
coiled wire around their stems
to conserve his oeuvre fair and open on their shelves
so, if not much else, I might then keep them blooming well
Oct 18, 2017
Oct 18, 2017 at 1:13 PM UTC
Desire is a candle trick
Burning brightly in a room
Full of wicks
Between regret and satisfaction
The silking rope hangs
Just beyond the hand's reach
At the peak of jealousy
It wraps tightly around
One's neck like the slithering snake
slowly, surely suffocating
Like a never-ending nightmare
Forever wanting more
Never inching close enough
Desire is a waterlogged hole
Waiting to drain your blood
Mar 4, 2024
Mar 4, 2024 at 8:59 PM UTC