you are the toska breeding in me like vicious flowers
cannas perhaps lotus or bleeding hearts
haunting the excruciating longing in my sinking chest
a calming and white haunting

I hear a thud in the middle of my body and it seems
that my heart levels itself in between my dimmed ribs
so that it may nervously burst in my core
to let that beautiful yellow childlike  sun into my body

what am I without you, a weltering raindrop
on top of a dark wooden roof
falling into the rustic mud while nobody is watching
being absorbed into the earth while nobody
cares

when I spoke my voice was hallow
and now you fill my speech and the streaks of tunes from my neck
like a starving man who by the grace of God has been blessed
with the feast of kings and queens

the phantom artist of something like a never ending dream
the gentle spirit
the serene incubus

you
daydreamer of withering beauty
heartless and genuine
I rest my smile upon your spine
I suffocate into your talent
of a deep and barren like litost

your calm ocean
as mine
filled with creatures only our imaginations
can begin to decipher
a tender arena of hearts and fowl play
you have taught me more about myself
I am bathing in beauty
drowning in a glorifying deep silk

I would bring my last weeping words  in a coffin
with  dark and rich embroidery resembling
that of your driven eyes
for a simple brush of your hand
upon my cheek

When warm I love you’s join affection
our souls
cannot seem to say
it is time to go.
I can see
no journey’s end
that will ever prove to me
that forever
could ever think
of leaving this love
we stand by.

I hold on tight to your soul
even after
we say goodnight.
Inside my mind, I see visions
looking back at caresses
from your hands
and no door is closed
In my heart
containing any words written
you have not read.

Sometimes life feels like a river
flowing into the dawn
reaching beyond
any love song of passion
clinging to the clouds
I am in.
However, thoughts of you
sail me higher
and higher
into beautiful colors
again.

I am left breathless when I see your hands
moving within the realms
of a thousand
I love you’s
yet to be said.
I can see no journey’s end
to this forever
I feel,
as one by one
they are heard on my skin.

I want a poet
between my thighs,
wicked tongue wrapped
in verse,
drive and provoke,
serenade
this dancing knot
of prose hidden here,
a hungry mound
saturated beneath a soft
cocoon of sweltering flesh,
suspended in expectation
inspired to spill forth
steaming compositions
sticky on his epic lips,
grinning.

And he’ll rise then
breathing a new stanza
onto my fragrant neck
“Sandalwood,” he’ll whisper
as he fills me with a new
refrain
emphatically taunts
my music
to sing down onto
his tightened fuse,
running rivulets spiraling
along his determined thighs,
crying out into his
listening ear,
a requiem so potent it
drips off the page
and becomes some reality.

Close your eyes
and imagine a kiss
filled with longing
and passionate bliss
Feel my hands
about your waist
see if you can
my yearning taste
And as intensity
starts to grow
Hold me tight
don't let me go
Pull me closer
to your breast
see if this dream
will pass the test
If pulse has quickened
and cheeks have flushed
then follow this dream
to me you must.

Her bare feet slapped against the pavement.
Tulle skirt stuck to her sweaty thighs.
The first drop fell.
Rain came that day.

Arms outstretched, she started to twirl.
Until the footsteps came near.
Out of time with the thunder claps and bursts of light.
She stopped and stared.

He was there.
Drenched in the rain.
Watching.
She laughed and pulled him to dance with her.

The weight of the world
     is love.
Under the burden
     of solitude,
under the burden
     of dissatisfaction

     the weight,
the weight we carry
     is love.

Who can deny?
     In dreams
it touches
     the body,
in thought
     constructs
a miracle,
     in imagination
anguishes
     till born
in human--
looks out of the heart
     burning with purity--
for the burden of life
     is love,

but we carry the weight
     wearily,
and so must rest
in the arms of love
     at last,
must rest in the arms
     of love.

No rest
     without love,
no sleep
     without dreams
of love--
     be mad or chill
obsessed with angels
     or machines,
the final wish
     is love
--cannot be bitter,
     cannot deny,
cannot withhold
     if denied:

the weight is too heavy

     --must give
for no return
     as thought
is given
     in solitude
in all the excellence
     of its excess.

The warm bodies
     shine together
in the darkness,
     the hand moves
to the center
     of the flesh,
the skin trembles
     in happiness
and the soul comes
     joyful to the eye--

yes, yes,
     that's what
I wanted,
     I always wanted,
I always wanted,
     to return
to the body
     where I was born.

                         San Jose, 1954

Clouds were getting ready to shower this earth
I was waiting for this moment walking through the path
A spirit so dried out, kept its tired hope on the sky
Praying for a thunderstorm to end this spell of dry.

Then came the rain like a bunch of playful children
Lovingly embracing the mother earth with the strain
Wind was roaring and powering through the trees
Like a group of revolutionists, who got free without cease –

As I was enjoying this savage love, every drop of water
I surrendered myself to nature’s most gripping disaster.