Thursday, February 26, 2015

Love Blossoms

Love blossoms
love matures
a sumptuous wine
in its oaken cask,
rhapsody spun from
composer’s fertile imagination,
grand and stolid redwood
born from haphazard windblown seed.

The feel of you
your sweet presence
ignited many an afternoon
on hillside or ocean,
left the taste and texture of passion
in many locations around the globe.

These many years of our communion
sharing of intimacies
body and mind
delicate and timely
threads of wondrous memories
that i embrace with great delight.

Wednesday, February 25, 2015

Fire Up the Kitchen Baby

Fire up the kitchen baby,
i think i'm stuck on you.
warm up the blankets,
turn down the sheets,
i want to reserve your sweet tendencies
until only the morning light
remembers where we've been,
fire up the kitchen baby,

i think i'm stuck on you.

Thursday, February 19, 2015

Between the Scorpion Sea Bed

Marooned beside the vacuous ocean,
under a  millennium of rumors,
awaiting discovery
beneath the inglorious weight of
all our rude philosophies,
lying thirsty in our deepest dungeons
under the scant protection of a harlot's wing,

lives our brother, truth.

Monday, February 9, 2015


Ancient egyptian hieroglyphic melodies,
carry my mind on crystal tides of windblown sand,
dreams take the shape of pyramids,
the equatorial sun burns my flesh
to leave me naked in the streets of cairo
lingering among the ashes of the pharaohs.

Thursday, February 5, 2015

The Lady is Naked Now

The lady is naked now 
she caresses her body
with stiff white hands,
her toes rub against the night,
her lips stretch across the open sky,
no one to receive them.

The lady has no ears to hear
the loves that have eluded her,
the walls of the apartment speak of nothing
except their own morbid perfection,

the lady sits by her tenacity 
forever misses the caravan outside of her window,
she knows no one else's story and seldom dreams.

The lady is naked now and weeps
between the abiding folds of her bed linen,
she will be mourned at the cinema,
the clock on the dresser has a cracked face,
the hair brush is pearl-handled and meticulous,
there is no mirror,
one photograph of mother and a box of kleenex,

the air barely stirs inside.

Wednesday, February 4, 2015

Concerning Constellations

The heavens will open up
through a pea green zipper,
the sky will leap out,
like air from vacuum tins,
dust from a million falling stars
will fill the grand canyon.

The earth will pop from the sun's heat,
men suspecting disaster
will suspend judgment
leaving lecturers deserted at the college.

Death swift
death orgasmic
will descend with the
wheels of the solar system in its feet,
will beat its galactic drum, but once
and once again the planet earth
as if life had never been.

Monday, February 2, 2015

Song of Parting

We stand on the platform of lost desire,
above the rift in our emotions,
we are immersed in the depths of
our fragrant memories,
we are caught in the
methodical dance of change.

We stand on the platform of lost desire,
the canopy of heaven is rich
with its enthusiasm of stars,
our spirits still nimble and joined
are more adept at change than
our feeble minds could ever know.