Light unloosens itself. Space slackens.
A figure of a shadow I have conjured before
anonymous eyes. Lapping up the waiflike bleakness
of their elliptical faces.

                               I must teach the trees to let go
of autumn, and relegate spryness to the hearth
of cold without merit, this slow, claiming mutiny
with its face-oval peering through windows multiplying
lovelessly, a crunch of a leaf, suchlike, flourishing
in peerless company. Before me, the sound of footfall
preparing to make sense, a rotunda of bell – that movement
of somebody done for, so ****** the scald welt of ******,
the belch of the world like a pore clearing its squalor.
Or the toppled verdigris of gull.

    Autumn’s greater extension, the abeyance, smilingly
a facsimile of crowds – its roads adorned with laburnum
singeing through the morning’s cauldron, a waft of bald terrain
inflamed, drawing with absence
      a crippled drip of rain back into the world’s dim address.

Your gaze has its pretty solitude
It has journeyed like the moonlight
Everywhere for the roses of love,
Yet within
sighs
The sweetest luminous rose
In heavenly repose

Within your beautys most tender kisses
Are realms that caress things
Like flowers, hope, and rain

Your pretty gaze naturally
unloosens us
Like the evenings roses
sunflowers and stars
Sigh within sigh
Blush upon blush
Gaze within gaze
And
Your firm vulnerabilities
Is the romance of exotic waves
With their demure salsa
To heavenly shores

I would love to glow
With the moonlights honey flow
And that exquisite thing about you
That unloosens and soothes
Like rose candlelight
Nothing is much sweeter
Besides the evenings rain,
The honey melodies
of your sweet beauty

Reynaldo Casison

I.

On the surface easily gliding,
  are my hands. I keep on the table
  an ajar carton of cigarettes. Then slowly
  becoming in my pocket, taking form of a hand,
  a crumpled cinema ticket when straightened,
  ironed by plainsight, walks with lines, the end credits roll lasciviously like an estranged lover
   whose face I can almost touch.
  When let go of closure, air thins and I move
  secretly with fluency. This is how objects
  escape my grip.

II.

  In front of the eatery, a transit.
  I had a dream once in a depthless sleep,
  a figure in stilts studded with guilt.
  The face next to me, disquieting the music
   of currencies, naked in sound as the truth shaved
   like a beast. The nearby tarmac resounds with
   another throng of absence. As a substitute
   for beings shackled to duty,
   the oncoming woman assumes theirs,
   borrows their faces of dreariness and ***** a thousand times like white sheets harassed by
   the wind through opened windows.

III.

    Define space as a venue for collision.
    Say when a red-haired woman straddling
    a duffel bag and myself confused as a peripatetic.
    She ascribes her presence to my footing
    and from where she left off, I take form
    of her expired movement.
                     Found strangeness is that space
    is what happens when remembered. But hold no
    bearing and rear contrivance,
     trying to be bold by definition -- space solicits
     the in-betweenness and then transmutes
     an occurence,
             say the volatile shape of a hand when
    clutching and releasing, the fugitive manner of
    feet when avoiding puddles, the unsolicited
    reticence of a troubling question.

IV.

            A man carries a take away and is now
     amongst the populace, waiting under a shed,
     housing a familiar language. Home.
    
      But first, trivialized. Haggles with the cab driver,
    trying to transact a being angled towards home.
    They agree to a fault, money's perfume clinches  the fingers and is given to a calloused hand.
             Air once stale, is now succulent with the
      resonating memory of a child's excited laughter,
      and is now presumably waiting behind a gated
      home. Like the palm of the hand, the number
         of times the vehicle trundles within
     the nearby avenue is the force it enkindles
        with rest. He is home,
     unloosens his clothing. Like a fine specimen
          freed from a vitrine.

Why are you packing up for final journey?
I am not getting the signals from the stars
through the amnesia. The moon will rise
on the desolate landscape of broken dreams
A shudder gives away. You always pursued incompleteness.

So the striving continues, for wholeness,
without sitting in meditation, remaining restless,
churning, agitating, creating comets on the lips,
touching the tulips, red roses, scented air,
traveling all alone through the black memories.

Talking to yourself in emptiness, wading in the
green eternity to find pure, unblemished truth,
the secret of eternal youth. Which fear had
perverted my vision? Why should I be afraid
of meeting you in me? Cannot I maintain my.

Integrity? The wheels are moving and your
gifts are lying unclaimed. Where do we meet?
No temple is safe. A foreign land where the
clouds bleed and sun unloosens the threat,
I will seek to close the circle.

She unloosens her Robe
with a sweet Exotic hymn and grace
Like it's second nature,
For loving is her Nature,
A beauty Not just to simply Adore
but to deeply cherish and revere
Her Hair changes like the seasons
It could be Short and long
And it Always tousles and allures
Like honey, And Roses and Sunflowers
In The Breeze
Her eyelids Heavenly lake Hymns
Where Sweet Tears have bathed
Her Gaze a fountain of romance and Stars
Her laugh the Sunflowers accent
Her Sighs the Roses blush
Her body a Vineyard,
supple with yearnings,
Exquisite for the Love Grooves
And Rhythms, And Romances
Candle Caresses
Flows well like A Lovefelt Melody
And Midnight Waterfall
Whether In a lavendar corset,
Tweed and denim, Shimmering dress
Whenever her Soul
With The Evening rain is Sweet and wet,
Her Exotic Ballerina thighs
Were Made For fishnets
Like sleek dolphins are made  
crescent cool
For tropical waves,
She knows how to Sway Sweeter
Than any Rose in the Summer gardens,
For she is Resilient as a Firefly in June,
Waltzing In The Moon,
The Pretty islands are all the more
Pretty with a Lover like her,
She Has No Need For fur
And
There She goes Fine Wine Swaying
Sweet Like the Moonlit rain
And Cascading with
And
WithIn my love

Reynaldo Casison