Woman Look deep in your pocket, woman, Look deep there and pick up your harmonica, The one I hid there for you Long ago If... maybe... just in case. Shake away from it the dried crumbs of bread and clumps of sugar and blobs of dehydrated spit mixed with bits of chocolate, Shake it good Then put it to your lips and start blowing, Does not matter what or for whom or if is full of false notes and weird wheezing sounds, Just start blowing your heart and your songs and your mind And let the sand in your veins shriek through the tiny orifices and whistle as it squeezes the air out of the moldy chambers accommodating your bits of lung and cough and painful recollections, Sing your awaking, woman, Because this is not the last mountain but you own the rights to your own songs and singing and knowledge of the songs you sang yesterday and deeds you did the day before that and courage you need before you raise your head squinting your eyes at the next peak and with the harmonica between your teeth starting the next climb. You are the singer, You are the beauty, You are the you, Look back and down the clouds beneath you the sun above you, climb on, Woman.

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Magic Magic Is undefined. If I could define magic I could create it, Employ it, Recreate it, I cannot... I wish... I wished... I wish... I regard you approaching Step steady, Self assurance mixed with question marks and beauty... oh, so much beauty in your eyes once you remove your sunglasses and I sink in rich hues of green and greener and greenest and you. I cannot... I wish... I tell you as you lay one commanding finger across my lips move it to the left of my mouth and let it run softly upon them to the right and back and once more before bringing it back to your mouth and kissing it. Tears swell in my eyes looking at you and knowing and wishing and knowing. Mezzuzah... you tell me, you taught me the word, Kissing your fingers again Sliding your arm underneath mine and with head on my shoulder leading me beneath trees along sidewalks under skies upon mountains The music never ending and echoing our words of love Oh, so much love, pouring, flooding, pounding us to pulp before carrying us upon its waters higher up Never releasing your arm from underneath mine and your head from my shoulder. We know, our miracle happened, Magic has just crossed our way and left its mark on my lips on your fingers on my shoulder and your blushing cheek as you look up at me from the depths of the snow-white pillow and my tears threaten to drown your eyes when you start plucking the strings of my heart and together we fall asleep in the lands of reality. Magic. Ours. Love.

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Innocence The glancing razor off my skin... From never was To always been... Besieged by life, The plunging knife Turned lilac stems and evenings green. Was it by me Besieging thee And turning pain Stars studded rain? Through pits beneath worm ridden crust... From thrashing guts To glinting lust... Besieged by you, I found anew The shine of love beneath the rust. Was it by me My smiling spree When turning words Wild poem herds? The arm beneath my failing chest... From crushing lung To soaring zest... Besieged by doubt, Your flowers sprout Through body warm and soft of breast. Was it by me As on my knee I seed the sun And love the one?

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The Smell The smell, I like the smell, you said Advancing in front of me Like a man possessed (hey, like a woman possessed, look at my boobs...), Nose high in the air the way of bloodhounds tracing life and advancing in the shop between the shelves looking for the pheromones of mildewed glue and brittle pages darkened at the edges and for those upon a time gentlemen who tried to seduce you all your life (they hit on me, the dirty old men... smiling) without any trace of losing their touch even when reaching long deserved senility... Longfellow, Yeats, Frost... You stopped, I knew that frightening look of goal achieved and victory grasped when your middle finger pointed to a north-east direction (I always had this finger decision problem, sorry...) and you whispered Look, See? The nook, For me My hook, My book of poetry... before starting that undeniable pull on that undeniable leash attached to my hand and dragging me almost at a forty five degrees body angle towards that point always rushing away a few inches in front of your finger yet with a final and known point of impact. I looked at that face alight with exploding bonfires and sparkling geysers and visible fist size molecules of lilac fragrance and jasmine fragrance drooling away from those kid big eyes and my return whisper trailed your thinning form in an effort to penetrate your consciousness... I see, I look, The nook, My book, For me My book of poetry... I wonder if you heard me, Did I penetrate, Did you... understand my reply? I wonder? I wondered... You raised those things which on humans are called eyes and burned some traces on my skin signing letters and words and sentences before my cognition traced the movement of those things which on humans are called lips hearing... Understand? Sir, your poetry might be grand But with due respect I’ve been to the school of Longfellow and Yeats and Frost... The mist beneath those things which on humans are called eyelashes... Your book of poetry?... I dared not pull away from the penetrating regard... Yes, my book of poetry. I don’t remember when that kiss started. I do wonder, though, How can I write these words with my lips still kept prisoners inside that jail which on humans is called... mouth.

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Indescribable Attempting, Failing, Laughing loudly at my own incompetence both to face the fact and to insist nevertheless, Attempting to describe the indescribable, Attempting to describe... you. I am waiting for the unique moments, Those putting you apart from the others and branding your essence, your you. Waiting... stupid word, please lend me another, How can one wait parts of time immeasurably small How can one lay out in discrete words the fluidity of this uniqueness which simply flows out of you thumbing its nose at my earlier mentioned incompetence and proving me and my other earlier mentioned attempts to describe the indescribable to catch the indistinguishable to portray this continuous flow of uniqueness well... incompetent? Maybe I should invent new words, Maybe I should call it uniquity, Maybe... You stir under the blankets, The soft snore self morphing into soft breath while a soft ankle softly crawls out from underneath the blanket... Softly... is this the new word? My previous cohesive thought processes start melting away as a second ankle joins the first and the blanket draws away from your chest revealing... I am melting... I uncover my secret close to your ear leaving pen and paper and keyboard orphans for a few seconds and fingers get for a few moments a different preoccupation with softer... ahmmm... things. You are always so morbid... you hum back into my ear catching my lower lip between your teeth and squeezing... almost... OK, it is just sweat... I lie watching patches of me dripping on your cheeks, lips, and sliding down to the pillow. Good, because I would hate carrying you around in a bottle hooked to my side... you almost bite again. I stop attempting, Stop thinking, Stop... whatever. I simply love you. Hey... I suddenly jump... I found it. Found what? you ask. The shortest yet best description of you. You finally open wide, though still puffy eyes Eyeing me incomprehensibly, Yet knowing of my undeclared madness you let it pass Expecting me to go on. I jump off the bed and rush to the desk picking up again pen, paper, keyboard and combining my skills on the mix of medias I skip all words I wanted to write in order to write just one. And place an exclamation point behind it. I sense you behind my shoulder, Leaning on it, your breath hot on my ear. I knew you were going to write this word, you chuckle. How? I ask, crestfallen for the n-th time in our relationship. Because it’s the only word you ever used, now you laugh as I make a face and rush back through all my previous writes to prove you wrong. I prove you right. Sorry, guess I lost my originality way back, I murmur, sadness penetrating my lowered voice. Don’t, you murmur back Forcing me out of the chair, Sitting on it And cuddling me in your naked lap. Because this is the only word which counts on paper. What is in your heart, on the other hand, is... indescribable. I cannot control my drooling as I smile big and turn the computer off. You plagiarize my thoughts, I say. Did you ever think how I know of them? you ask licking away my drooling traces and letting me taste it back the way it would taste on your lips...

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After's Secrets of us, Love of us, Past erased, Tomorrow’s path purged of yesterday’s impurities under a red sunset telling us of beauty, warmth, green sunrise. Wine settling in our veins, Drops of blood painting our future on a white rose’s rim, Red ribbon the steel of silk binding hands, hearts, lives. I blink away tears wishing you not to see them, failing miserably... Tears? you ask. Happiness, I answer, the truth, the only truth. You use your thumb to dry the corners of my eyes, asking me what it is I wish to take with me. You know my answer... you... is my wish to say yet all I can is the stain of wine the dried up rose the ribbon... Tears? you ask. Forever, I answer, the truth, the only truth. You use your thumb to dry the corners of my eyes, asking me what is it that I remember. You know my answer... love... is my wish to say yet all I can is I love you I love you I love you...

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Window How will I Live? Think, laugh, speak? I open a momentary window to yesterday Looks like eons ago, or seconds, The sneaking fingertip touch on my arm or cheek The hug, smothering, oh, wishing for death, The sudden kiss, was it expected or unexpected? The regard fierce, penetrating, burning the tears framing it into tomorrow’s dissipating clouds about to perish into the nothingness preceding advancing suns and words shouted straight into the mush of my brains. I close the window, reluctantly, Moments more and it will suck me into the void separating worlds to never return, And I did promise to ever return. I close the window. Leaving pieces of heart and chunks of sanity behind wrapped in the glossy surface of liquid salt... When was it that you licked my eyes clean? You did a poor job of it, I allow a passing thought Feeling my shoes slosh through wet carpets and cascades running down ascending airport steps. I let my eyes follow suit and close, Pull a blanket over my head and enjoy the unrelenting pain, No, I could not do without this pain, Without this memory called hope and knowledge of the next time when you will wait for me stamping your feet grabbing handfuls of shirt and once again sucking me into the flesh of your frame and you. You love me, I declare my love for you, And passers by avert eyes and avoid path letting insanity run its course as I hug computer pictures of you and songs you sang in my ears and crumbs of a piece of bread we shared in an Italian restaurant. You love me, I repeat, And feel the shiver joining your toe to your hair roots running its course a billion miles away in that other dimension which yesterday was called us and today is called us and tomorrow is called us I hear you saying through that window I tried closing earlier on waiting patiently for me to remove the blanket from over my head Before the swish of kisses and the grump of hugs penetrate into my dimension And countless I love you’s invade the tiny airplane space telling your version of the story. Our version you admonish me, correct as always, And I pity the ignorance of all who watch and will never know you.

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A Blink Away They tried, they failed, All of them, Nobody can make it happen. I can’t neither... This is double negation, you say, This makes it a positive statement. I know, I answer, I try to make it happen by cheating, Maybe it helps. It does not. The seconds arm insists on its boring rotary motion, Time, controlling fates, lives, the world, Unstoppable king Chronos does on his lead boots and pursues his glorious conquering march crushing under his studded soles loves, dreams, hopes. I can’t stop him neither... Double... you interject again, on purpose, Cunningly trying to curve my lips’ ends upwards And partially succeeding as my mouth clings to yours and obligingly follows its shape. Then you hide your face inside my shirt and the convulsions shattering your shoulders shatter my heart. I pick a large cobblestone in my right hand and lift it menacingly, What are you doing? ask the red stains surrounding your eyes. I will smash my wristwatch together with my wrist, maybe this is the trick. I almost drop it when you lay your cheek on my wrist, questioning me again. And if you succeed it means you will never return. And if I succeed it means I never leave. And if you succeed it means we freeze forever. Hugging... Cold... Kissing... Dead... You are right. Once more. If I admitted the number of times I counted you were right... And paid one kiss for each... My lips would have worn down to my skull’s bone... And so would mine. We found the courage to smile again, Time relegated to its high pedestal And our love story a few notches... higher up. I forced your claws open, Your fangs out of my flesh, Your steel sinews to uncoil from around my chest, My heart screamed its thin peril the moment the last of my skin parted from the last of your skin though now we knew... next we meet is only a blink away. I blinked.

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Beautiful?... Not Really... There is some problem with your eyes, Much too green to them, much too bright (yeap...). And the red To your head (hey, look at me, I’m a poet...) Turns my mind Raving wild (well, I guess I have some rhymical limitations... sorry...). Your skin?... Is it white? I’d rather call it pale, Like the insides of a coconut split open under a hive dripping thick honey burnt into irregular brownish spots by a virgin sun mating for the first time in its life with a dream built into its ancestral memory at the hands of its once upon a time God father (mmm... not bad this one for a beginner...). Beautiful? You? No, not really... Probably gorgeous would be the right word.

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Something With Seasons if you insist, she said, all I can offer you is my summer's trilling nightingale and feathers painted autumn pale long winters clad in steaming breath and springs escaping roving death a song awakened by your touch a bed as soft as never such and storming lungs inside my kiss when life invades my forest's bliss. if this your offer, I said, all I can insist on is a summer's dance inside a song and bouncing leaves all autumn long in winter's kiss a sprouting rhyme my spring, my life, my end of time...

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Ribbon Red Holding hands, The ribbon rolling around, Then again, then again, The perfection in your movement betraying the flutter in your heart As the ribbon binds the skin,       then the flesh,       then the bones... You raise your eyes, watching me       then the souls... The serenity in my stance betraying the music in my heart. The tie, The knot, The ends dangling almost to the floor Oscillating your way, my way, As you inhale, I exhale, Then my way, your way, As I inhale, you exhale, The perfect mathematical imprecision of love locking itself inside our minds’ sockets at sounds of sharp clicks... or is it trumpets?... proclaiming the birth of our nation My lips attached to your ears Your lips attached to my ears Vowing in whispered unrehearsed unison our immutable constitution       love,       honor,       trust,       happiness... I open my eyes. The dream is over. I watch the red tails raveled around our once tossing bodies and now lying inside scalding sweat side by side the loops cutting into our wrists alongside popping veins and blue furrows And the green butterflies fluttering their lashes close to my face tell me of the dream which was not. I dare smile, One does not wake up from a dream into a dream after all, And I silently thank the powers unknown for the not dream as I gather your lips into mine and start singing smiles upon the fields of your tongue under the skies of your palate. I feel the ribbon tightening its grip further tiny red spots gathering on finger ends and soaking invisibly into the silken mesh. A dream which was not is about to pursue its trail And before I succumb again to the beauty of you I gather the white rose in my hand and slide it between your rebelling curls       to love       to honor       to trust       and happiness       till death runs scared into our path. Love. Unending.

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Sweet’N’Silly Just ask me oceans wide to cross And I will wade inside the moss Though... hmm, you see, my swimming score Will get me, well, ten feet from shore?... So, better, ask me just to ride A one wheeled bike with jester’s pride Yet... lay some pillows butt to butt Before I break my... you know what... No, wait, this one’s a real task You see the coin inside this flask With just one finger out I’ll tease... Now... ouch... the hammer... pretty please?... She looked at me, Head cocked to one side like a red furred mongrel bitch Watching a furless tailless mindless prairie dog, Drooling happiness and insanity. Can you get me the moon? No, sorry, too high. Can you get me the sun? No, sorry, too hot. So what can you do for me? I could write you a poem. You just did. No, this is a sweet’n’silly. You just did. I mean a real poem, a love poem. You just did, she insisted for a third time, Baring a pair of fearsome canines. Love poetry comes in all shapes, You just created one more shape. I was not afraid, I was terrified. May I (you should have heard the jitter in my voice and the growl in hers) add just one more stanza? You may, And she surely kept those canines visible at all times. Then ask my justice, ask my pride, My fears, my claims, my dreams I hide... You wish the sun? The stars, the moon? So easy, girl, just heed my croon And as your smiles my eyes imbue You’ll glean reflections there of... you.

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Dentistry Then clicked again and the note was a bit higher, Hey what’s that, I asked? When you finished bending and then unbending with laughter you enlightened me with a grimace – I had a root canal treatment, a hollow tooth sounds musical, no? And an untreated one sounds a bit different, and a healthy canine sounds different to a rocking wisdom tooth, did you hear it? I forced your mouth open, Trying different combinations of my teeth the better and the worst of them Clicking against various of yours and registering the sounds, notes, octaves in my brain, Then finally, when I believed I had it all mapped correctly I asked you to lean your head back on the white pillow, Close your eyes, Open your mouth just enough for me to gain unlimited access And my tongue, lips, teeth started touching your dentistry playing a tune of... you are my sunshine. You could not laugh, Of fear of trapping my tongue and cutting it in two, Yet when I finished my original one timely creation You sucked my tongue into your mouth for several seconds making a sound of clapping hands Then relieved me with a question in your eyes and lips: Why you are my sunshine? my mother used to sing it to me, when I was little child. I had no answer, really, so I answered: Because you are my sunshine. We played more tunes that night, I... on her teeth, she... on my skin, we... on our hearts. When morning finally saved our neighbors from the orchestrated howls and yowls and occasional yodels She opened wide her mouth and asked me what I see there, inside. I looked but could not describe... ...the sudden sunrise blinded me.

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Dry Flowers No, not flowers, just one – a rose, white, immaculate, if it wasn’t for those two spots soaked into its fiber marking a memory, an oath, of a color now dulled into a deep brown and once... was it once red? or was it once... life? Brittle, I dare not touch lest it turns into butterfly wing dust and mingling its ways with seeds and pollen and spores it evades my life carrying inside its minuscule particles my only memory worth remembering... A hand, less wrinkled than mine, slowly slides alongside my forearm reaches for the withered weft and closes around it its fingers, sounds of crumbling reaching painfully to my ears as traces of dust whiff away from the fiercely clenched fist. The bottle of wine, partially empty, I seem to recognize it, part of that same memory burnt inside the grooves of my brains with pieces of red ribbon, and smells of wild incense, and symbols strange and incantations sweet and vows eternal, how did it materialize on the table beside us? I kept it, you say. For thirty years? And five months and three days, one hour from now. You open the deeply embedded cork, smell the gaping bottle’s mouth closing your eyes dreamily and allowing the slight creases at your eye corners to fill up with the liquefied ascending vapors... or... are these?... then you open your palm and let the sparkling dust pour inside. Half a glass for me, half a glass for you, you keep the bottle upside down for a long time almost wringing it for its last drop then lay it carefully on the table handing me my glass, picking yours and waiting till both are against our lips before whispering... Our love. And so much more, I add. Yes, eternity, you say.

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Your Answer Blinking eyes And butterflies Cling to morning’s chilly air, Pouting lips Petal tips Glint beyond unruly hair, Ankles fine Crawling vine Twist around a rebel ray, Fingers thin Whisper sin Down my chest in wicked play. You’ve never been as beautiful as now, The morning after, The incense sticks burnt out The bulky candles still flickering Dried rose petals smoldering their refusal to part Skin bare of all but irregular traces of salt under the glimmer of silver rings. Playful tunes And whispered runes Hide inside the crumpled sheets, Touches bold Shivers old Sculpt off skin ignited bits, Dies the roar At the door When a cheek to shoulder floats, Yet they know When the glow Dies... then sail a thousand boats... Sail where? you ask. To your beauty’s land. And they carry what? you ask. Your smile, your fragrance, your skin. Is that all? you ask. Us, our love, our tomorrow’s sun born of today’s glow. You did not ask more. You had your answer.

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Don’t Worry, A Passing Moment Of Insanity The day the story will be told And tickets thousands will be sold Allowing a platinum chick To style her way your so unique and tender gold, The day a tanned and muscled Joe Will wink to gals in second row And claim to know my inner heart In what is doubtless dollars art Yet none will know, The day critiques will rave insane And hail to skies the shameful bane As popcorn youths deny a tear And maiden teens new lipstick smear Till spot-lights wane, No, none will know We loved we so, The real rage In ageless age, The mindless crow In Raven’s Poe, The falling sky, The greenest eye, The spotless love In dove dove dove.

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Waking Up Sink your face into my pillow Tracing pools of fading scent Depths of linen wet and rent, Eyes beneath your flaming willow Sadly spent. Warmth ascends a seamless ladder Gnawing cracks inside your fist Rising like a spiteful mist, Sheenless eyes are getting sadder Teardrop kissed. Barren land of crumpled covers Blinding white the desert’s hue Burning ash beneath of you, In your eyes a shadow hovers Soaking dew. Sounds?... the sounds of barefoot slapping Rushing fore from yonder side Bodies, hands and mouths collide, Shining eyes my reason snapping Deep inside. Been you where?... Beyond the ocean... Pert your joke... Your tongue’s a knife Yet my pouch is presents rife, Ribbon’s red and wine’s emotion And... my life.

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The Color Of Vow The words you wished, I sternly thread Inside that ribbon’s soothing bed To love beyond, above, and more than lovers’ footsteps on the shore, Forever red. The words I wished, you write tonight Upon that petal’s silken might To love in pain, in joy, in tune with lovers’ one and timeless rune, Forever white. The words we wished, sublime and keen, Pervade one breath, one heart, one skin, To love, to trust, to share, to sing till seasons die in lonesome spring, Forever green.

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Perpetuum Today I have nothing new to tell you except I love you. Like I said yesterday, And one hour earlier than yesterday, And one hour before that one hour, Probably also five minutes ago for a whole of five minutes. Is there a slot in time in which I did not say it? I uncoil the ribbon from around my waist, Remove my ring and slide the ribbon through it Then bind the ends at the nape of my neck the ring inside my mouth So it does not fall out when I sleep I explain mysteriously and climb into bed. You are crazy, you say. You are crazy. Like you said yesterday, And one hour earlier than yesterday, And one hour before that one hour, Probably also five minutes ago for a whole of five minutes. Is there a slot in time in which you did not say it? You uncoil the ribbon from around your waist, Remove your ring and slide the ribbon through it Then bind the ends at the nape of your neck the ring inside your mouth So it does not fall out when I sleep You explain mysteriously and climb into bed. You are crazy, I say. I love you, you say. I wonder who started it, Not that it matters, I will never wonder who ended it. It will never end.

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The Pain, The Joy The time, The moment. Tomorrow’s yesterday agonizes, its inevitable death celebrated... let there be music!... a mountain’s rim dressed in ascending melodious mist, a sky’s hem drowning in fires soaking into whimpering clouds, an unbreakable promise bonding hands, bonding mouths, bonding hearts... I vow... I vow... The glory! Till yesterday’s tomorrow furiously curls beneath drawn shades smashing into spent bodies and twined fingers and breathless mouths cruelly awaking them to the reality of done, beauty, eternal. The pain, of splitting skin from skin, flesh from flesh, bone from bone, clasping pairs of hands turning single clenched fists as space invades the artificially created distance and steps echo on a marble tiled desert and a last glance is blinded by invading tears... The joy, one life, unbreakable unsplittable, us.

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Trap You’re like no one else I have ever met in my life, She said, And for a moment I felt like Adonis Or like Hercules in a steroids liberated world Or at the very least like Arnold after a hefty breakfast, My present impressive belly crawling way up into my once impressive chest. You are not handsome, She continued, And I crossed out Adonis letting off a few inches of chest elevation, And your flesh isn’t as firm anymore, Here goes Hercules and my chest sagged some extra inches towards sea level, And you have this gap between your front teeth... Aha, at least something of Arnold still hangs around though the wrong thing in the wrong part of the body. She paused, Catching her breath And making belief she didn’t see the final demise of my waist’s line altitude and latitude. You know, I could talk lover’s talk – Love, trust, friendship, devotion... But I won’t... Please do, please do... the Arnold leftovers wanted to say but I smacked him hard. It may be unfair, illogical, out of place and insane What I am going to say And probably I shouldn’t... Please don’t, please don’t... Arnold started pulling the other way and I almost followed till I looked in her eyes. Something... Let’s talk about loyalty. I was surprised. A question, Who do you think is today the creature most loyal to me? It was a trap, I knew it, I should not have answered, I should have shut up. I moved right into the trap and answered. Your dogs. True. Yesterday. Today? I was a bit baffled. Today? Yes, today they are my second most loyal friend. Today? Today? I repeated idiotically, suddenly scared to hear the trap closing and cutting my limb, my life. Yes, today. Today they are second. You are first. Ever seen the steel of a trap turn a flowers garland and a heart gain a beat and an eye seeing into the secret of first creation? You know, The loyalty of dogs is immeasurable, Nothing as strong, fierce, mindless, Nothing... Till you. Now I know. I love you. I had to change the whole of my shirts’ wardrobe, the buttons just kept popping. No such problems with my trousers though I had to punch some extra holes in my belts, they got too loose. Then I wrote her a letter. You are my football team. You are my country. You are my religion. I don’t know why she smiled, I meant every single word of it.

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Musings, I Guess I threw the mottled ball of paper through a crack between the boards, watching it roll and roll, till it hit the gutter’s mouth and then... a freckled hand snatched it up. Claim my body from the merchant dragging it from year to year Part of Freaks’n’Damned collection for a running nose to leer As the carriage drops a pothole skids my jar from side to side And I catch eluding glimpses... branches bud and stars collide... You tried to read between the lines, though there were not many of these to read between... Freaks’n’Poets? Could be? Sounds your voice like coming yonder from a world called human dreams Strange your words and strange your manner when your rhyme my hollow brims Does your inkwell’s calloused feather bear your longing’s bastard child Or my shallowness of living craves a fire roving wild? You chased the wagon’s bouncing trail, broke through the boards, broke through the jar and mounted your horse on the way to somewhere. See I ladders into sunset teeming cuddled lover pairs, See I promises unbroken flowing up my endless stairs, See I dunes from days unspoken rolling pearls down to sea... Or... is maid Fata Morgana... never was to never be?... I heard the crash, the boards breaking, delicate fingers smashed like steel pistons through the glass, grabbed me by the collar and pulled me out into life. “And you knew my heart...” “...I learned it reading questions in your words”, “And you sang my song...” “I listened sunrise way through sunset’s birds”, “Promises I’ll paint you thousands...” “...Paint the one to make me cry”, “Thousands ten of years to rhyme you, one to love you, then to die.” Lips, touching ears, claiming the short eternity of a poem’s last stanza and the thousands leading to it... my promise beating in your chest, never to die.

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The Last Frontier My eyes were fixed to the tiny red spot on the sheet My knuckles white with the strain of knotted muscles and sinking nails. She came out of the shower, Rubbing her hair with a white towel, Sparks and freckles showering all around her as she shook her mane lion wise and followed my petrified look. She smiled. Ask, she said. I asked. Lovers you had, Children you have, And a virgin you were tonight? She dropped the towel to the floor advancing towards me and forcing both my hands around her waist and both my eyes down her bubbling twin wells. My body was never a virgin, she said. My heart was... till tonight.

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Backgrounds I rolled on the floor in your body’s pain I wiped away from my eyes your tears I turned the music out loud to sounds of protesting loudspeakers and neighbors and tearing eardrums so that none shall hear me howling your silent scream... a voice in the background claims Elvis has left the building telling me to load another record and roll on and cry on and scream on. I uncurled minutes ago and now just blew my nose and want you to know only that I’ve never been as happy in my life as when I’ve lived this love my yesterday with you my today with you my tomorrow with you the only life I’ve ever lived. by your side. hand in hand into the sun. none else matters. I love you.

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Hold Teach me your dance step Then allow me to follow your footsteps Let me hold your left hand when you bend over and my body tries to cushion the floor for you before you pirouette away laughing at my scared look and dragging me up from my ridiculous position straight into your softness Let me hold your right hand as you pull me away from the crowds away from the walls far away from the halls of artificial gaiety to that intimate hold where you are the singer and the song and the music and we dance to you. Let me hold... you.

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Art Art, I listen to Elvis singing songs of love, Shuddering at the thought He might never have been born And neither this beauty And the knowledge of it. I look at your image Shuddering at the thought We might never have met And never would I have known your beauty And the beauty of this love’s Art.

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Celebrity Claim I none of fame or name None of life And none of strife All I claim is love insane While cutting tunnels in the rain... Demand I none of bold or gold None of stage And none of rage All I do demand is trace Those spots of glory in your grace... Pretend I none of rave or brave None of dream And none of scream All I do pretend is cling Inside those words around that ring...

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So Easy Close not your eyes Unless you wish to dream of me As I will invade your hunger uninvited And sate your thirst unasked for And when lust drives its nails through you My body will be your cross And memories of me will cover your nakedness the tears pouring from my eyes painting your wings’ feathers silver green and pointing you to the sun... Open not your eyes Unless you wish to wake up from the world Void of the emptiness of the pillow next to you Where flowerless fields are abominable crime And love unfulfilled is an unremembered science buried under layers of star crust the fallout of the latest love story we lived forever smoldering inside your chest’s cage and inviting visitors descending to earth’s fire from the chill of the sun. Remember What you can’t forget, So easy...

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Absolutism For a moment Thrown back into the infinity of dead time and living memories, A child Pulling at my mother’s sleeve and imploring “sing, mom, sing...” And she would comply mid of scrubbing and washing and kneading singing me songs of... love, Grown up love and pain which I soaked with child’s ears and adult’s understanding and unblinking eyes brimming with my first reality of real tears. Lost. A tremor never to rumble again... Never? I found you, Somewhere between the past pages of the future’s history my random choice of page number and line down the page and word along the line... And then I touched you... Sitting next to you, The humming engine a universe complete I and you Adam and Eve The tin cabin our Eden Your voice... “sing, lover, sing...” I implored, Words forgotten forever catching wing anew in the presence of warmth, and divinity, and love And notes pour chilling my skin into goosebumps and my heart into brittle spider glass And I recognize the story And I know the love And my adult’s ears soak with child’s understanding the absolutism of love now touching me. “I am off key,” you apologize. “More than you’ll ever know,” I agree as your hand approaches my chest once more sinking beneath shirt, skin, ribs, sending your voice’s vibrations straight into my blood’s rugged bed. “I love you,” someone says before your mouth follows suit, and then you, and then “I love you,” no one says as one dissipates into we.

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Alternate Views I open my left eye, Life with you... green, of jealousy and eyes and sprouting leaves red, of anger and love and opening roses blue, of pain and clear skies and lilac white, of screams and innocence and snowcapped mountains... The rainbow of life. I open my right eye, Life without you... black, the pastel of death. I open my left eye. Time to get me an eyepatch for the other. * “Brown, what about brown?” you ask, rolling on your back. “Not yet,” I respond, “I’m still counting them.” “I smile,” you say, even though you do not have to, I see it with my one sane left eye. “I guess that whoever doesn’t understand this dialogue will have to go back and read the rest of your poetry,” you add. “I pity them,” I say. “Why?” and I pull my hand hastily back as you shiver at a certain touch, no freckles there I guess... oops... “Oops, I spilled the beans...” and I bite my tongue. “Don’t worry, they won’t understand you and they wouldn’t have read you anyway,” you add maliciously, guiding my finger to an area unexplored yet. And after a few seeconds... “green, of cabbage...” you contribute to my poem exploding in a ticklish laughter. * yellow, of fear and ribbons and daisy hearts...

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Postcards I did not write you a poem today, It is lost, Because the poem I did not write today would not have been the same as the one I will write one hour from now or five minutes from now, or even one minute... lost, and no one would ever know what it would have been, Forgive me?... * I remember pictures, Simple postcards clicking continuously in my brain, Mountains, And stones one atop another balancing the wind precariously, And chill penetrating through clothes till we huddled into each other’s coats and the chill stayed the same but the softness of the moment made us forget, Then we chased a lake, they probably dragged it away since we never found it, And our fingers dug into deep pies sticky till we licked each other’s fingertips and palms and rings clean and still our palms stuck to each other as we started our way back as if the sweet jam penetrated beneath our skin and now it was oozing back out to glue us, unite us, love us, I love you. Just postcards, Why the hell do I cry? * I did not write you a poem today, I wrote you love today, The same I will write one hour from now, or five minutes from now, or even one minute... Eternity is a joke, you know? I love you before and after, eternity on the mountain, eternity huddled, eternity sticky fingers, I loved you before today, you can’t remember, you were not yet born. I will love you after tomorrow, when I die. All I need is postcards.

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Letter My dove, my dove, my dove, My love, my only love, The words I wish to say This rainy day of May My dove, my dove, my dove, I love you, oh, I love. Of course I could invoke my side the gods of phrase and chant And relegate your classic scribes to scrapbook’s primal rant, Yet while the metaphoric raves besiege your avid mind You’d miss the crave so deftly set in paragraphs refined. Or I could scheme a modern tune which starts some nowhere lands And ends in nonsense ridden flares like other nation’s grand’s, Yet while the rounds of loud applause inebriate your ear You’d miss the need I wished your way beneath the scrambled cheer. I know I’ve done as such my past and I will do again Insane the ink inside my brains and scrawling through my pen, Yet just this once please let me be the child of meager word As simple words inside my chest my love and yearning gird. My love, my love, my love, My sweet, my dear, my dove, The music in my tear I wish it to your ear My love, my love, my love, I love you, oh, my dove.

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Eagle I strapped tightly a quill to each of your left hand’s fingers losing my way for moments inside silver carvings promising eternity, Then moved on to your right hand, Then worked my way out patiently through each of your toes quill after quill after quill... had some problems finding the little one as it lay curled and asleep in its dreams of big toes glory... You waited, Quietly, Questioning frowns mingling with ticklish giggles while you tentatively tensed muscles rippling inside torso, shoulders, down forearms, sensations greedily reaching those outmost layers of epidermis thinly painted on your fingertips as tendons started snapping like overtorqued piano wires and aftershocks strained on to your calves, ankles, taut toes... My travail finally done... “Why did you do it all?” you asked, “I could never write with my small toes...” “You could with all of the others,” I answered confidently, “And you never yet tried your small toes, I bet they could write your way into your next masterpiece.” “My next masterpiece? I still have to write my first one.” “You wrote your first one,” I answered, and for a moment I caught your gaze and let you read all the words written on the white of my eyes. “I guess I did,” you finally conceded with a shy smile, And suddenly stretched your body into one single muscled form, no knees no breasts no lips lithe and sinewy and powerful like a mythical feathered snake ready to fly... “You know...” you did not say the words, sirens were playing the sounds on your vocal cords, “You know, instead of writing I could maybe... fly away...” your body one uniform mass of throbbing might, squirming dreams... I leaned close to your ear and whispered back... “Isn’t it... the same?” collected your tear between my ring and my skin then pulled away picked up the heavy hammer and with one savage blow broke the chain tying you to earth. “...fly!... Eagle...”

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Ceremony We did it wrongly, you said And started unfastening the red ribbon. The handhold turned into a gargantuan vise grip, For a moment I thought it was my muscles’ spasm until I realized that the mush at the end of my right arm were once my fingers now lying paralyzed with fear inside your crushing unrelenting clasp, All the while my mind rushing like a throng of insane mice inside a mirrors labyrinth juggling combinations of ‘wrongly’ and ‘wrong’ and ‘we’ and ‘us’ an interposed verbs and subtleties and meanings... I watched the red coils unwinding, The hanging tail getting longer, Each turn of your hand striking out one more year in my meager life leftovers calendar, My back hunching, my shoulders sagging, One more loop to go, one more year to live, Uncoil the last and death is my prison... You knew it too. You did not. Stand up, you commanded in a tone you would command a lost puppy and I stood up, you next to me turned to face me then moved slowly sideways till your left faced my left. Was it imagination... hallucination... or... the purity of magick?... Your free hand started fastening our hearts together moving in a smooth sewing motion backwards and forwards inside my chest, out my back, inside your chest, out your back, the red wide tapestry of the ribbon sliding effortlessly between ribs, muscles, flesh... I was frozen, I was burning, I was mighty, immortal, invincible... I did not ask you how you did it, I knew that in a world of illusion and deception only you could do it, reality. Now it is done right... heartfasted, you stated matter of factly tying the last loop between our lips and pulling it tight. I could not help myself a thought before oblivion took over... Eternity is so easy, all it takes is two hearts... flashed my mind. And two pairs of lips... was the echo which got lost into my mouth. * What will you take with you? you asked, refusing to let my mush turn back into fingers. I took the petal. I took the ribbon. I took your heart.

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Outside, Inside I lie in bed on my back, A strange bed, A wrong bed, Wrong pillow wrong sheet wrong creases ironed in the sheet, My fingers clasped at the nape of my neck with the only other sound...       other than what?       other than your voice ...that of my dog snoring noisily on his “I am Superdog” rug, And my physiography, morphology, skyline... call it whatever you want Shamelessly responding to diamond sharp images of you Which I start retrieving from those otherwise impenetrable grey celled vaults of my brain... You sitting on me, You lying on me, You sleeping on me, You picking up the sharp end of a feather and scratching your life story all over my skin...       I did no such thing.       Sorry, wishful thinking.       You should start taking those ginseng balboa memory pills...       and you explode in that crystalline windchime laughter       which only we two understand.       After.       I do not mind though... scratching my poetry all over your skin.       You did already.       I did?       Hey, about that ginseng balboa...       The tiny fist hits my belly button       exits my back       goes all the way through the mattress       and leaves a dent on the floor.       This should teach you some respect,       you drool, licking your smarting knuckles       then licking my sore spot.       I know I did...       (yeah, sure... thinking it this time, not daring saying it out loud)       I can even read it back to you...       and you start reading... love, love, love, love, love...       (oh, gulp, you do remember...) I squirm, My heart adding a third voice to the chorus as it starts shoving bucketfuls of adrenalin through my veins mixing it with the strange awakening of my body’s chemistry while souvenirs of fermenting feminine fragrances shoot through the nerve ends of my nostrils and muscles stretch tendons stretch bones stretch...       do you wish me my love?       do I wish death without you?... Later. You, limpid, loose like a wringed cloth sprawled all over me, I, soft, like a piece of molten metal,       Chests slowly deflating       Lips searching each other like newborns for a mother’s nipple,       No... we did not break any bones this time either       as we unclench fingers and check each other’s carefully.       Sorry I hit you... you murmur.       I had it coming, I respond.       True...       and windchimes fill again the emptiness of my skull’s caverns.       Will you be back tomorrow?       I love you.       What better answer?... I succeed to pull together all the broken pieces of my anatomy and my geography and my topology the skyline flattened into rubble by the morning’s earthquake, And for the shortest of moments the bed is my friend. She is back tomorrow, I smile. She never left.

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Philosophies In Grey Tell me about grey, you asked, watching grey flakes of snow covering grey bunches of lilac under a grey palm tree mid of a grey desert. Hey, your colors... they are all wrong... I think, you then complained, reading me. My colors... they are all right, grey... is wrong, I answered taking off your nose the solar eclipse viewing glasses asking you to open your eyes and offering you one red rose. What is this? you asked, watching intently the dissonant patch in your hand, There is an unfamiliar stain on this flower. This, I answered, is color. This is beauty. I left, taking your glasses with me. It takes time getting used to color red. * Tell me about grey, you asked, pointing to coal and to snow and to clouds and to mist and to old Laurel and Hardy movies... This time I made sure you did not buy other glasses and your eyes were open and the rose was still alive... it was, you watered it daily. I washed off the coal from my face brushed away the snow from the emerging buds waited cuddled in a blanket together with you till the wind dispersed the mist and chased the clouds beyond earth then we laughed at Laurel poking Hardy in the eye... grey can be sometimes... happy. What do I see? you asked in bewonderment missing the cheek and poking me in the eye... laughing... was it on purpose?... then tried to taste the bud and finally blew your lungs out trying to get rid of a stubborn cumulonimbus smudge after your groping hand failed to reach it. Is there more like this out here? This, I answered, is color. This is beauty. I left you under the blanket, uncertain if glowering or glowing. It takes time getting used to color pink, and green, and blue, and happy grey. * Tell me about grey, you asked, combing out single hairs pale grey tones setting in them ignoring passion life tears. I took the comb from your hand and sorted them out myself then picked up a pen with red ink which you knew by now and wrote spiral wise a poem on the first one from the root to the split end. What are you doing? you asked, more curious than wondering as I kept repeating my actions and then returning each finished hair back to its place. Writing poems, each one different. Will you read them to me? No, you will have to imagine them. Then they are lost. No, they are treasured. Do you have so many poems? Yes, where there is color and there is beauty there is poems. Do you see color and beauty in my hair? No, and I watched you pout. Is there going to be color in this stanza too? you asked quietly, not pouting anymore, just hoping. I picked up the big standing mirror put in front of you and watched you watching you. This, I answered, is color. This is beauty. I left, my last glimpse of you that of a creeping smile up your face. It takes time getting used to color beauty.

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Feminine Intuition You know what I wish to do most than all right now? Make love to me? Dance with you. Chuckle. You miss the rest of my toes? The rest of your toes? Yes, the leftovers, Those you did not yet crush... chuckle again. I hesitate, then decide not to pout. I did no such thing. You surely did NOT once you let ME lead. I kissed her, letting her lead me into jointless dimensions... I love you. I love you. You know what my second strongest wish is right now? Make love to me? You sure have a one track mind, woman. No, my second strongest wish right now is to hear you... sing. I think I saw a bit of rain in her eyes... Remember turning to stone?... That was when I was singing. And your dog howling... It was a bad connection, He apologized later. Are you sure? I am... and I clamped hard on my dog’s muzzle. I kissed her, letting her sing me into fluid dimensions... I love you. I love you. And do you know what my third strongest wish is? Right now? Right now. Make love to me? This was a real blow to my male pride. Hey, how did you guess? She unclamped my hand from the dog’s muzzle and clamped it on her breast smiling at the heart wrenching howl. Still apologizing, huh?... Then she led me to the floor singing in my ear Just call it feminine intuition. I kissed her, letting her love me into nothingness dimensions... I love you. I love you.

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Achilles Retold Steel clad Impenetrable Helmet, pauldron, hauberk, gauntlets, greaves, Fire tongues lashing irregularly through beaver’s dense grate, Defiant Proud. My eyes feeding me the mirage same as the rest of the armed throngs howling around her in illustrious nescience My fingers tense on the taut cord My arrow sharp to invisible point... “Your eye, your mouth, your heart, your heel?... Which is your Achilles gate of passage, warrior?” A finger pointed my way majestically You... She singled me out of the squirming mass squashing my arrow’s head with one bared finger You... you only will see the inner of me... and she handed me the feather. “And they?” pointing to the roaming armies. Trapped in their mirage. “Why I?” Because your anger is slow yet sharp, your muscle is lean yet hard, your heart is tender yet tender. She stopped. And your fingers... “And my fingers?” ...can paint ink at the end of a feather. I picked the feather and dragged a ragged line down her armor head to toe. The line cracked. I looked around as blinded by their lust and delirium none of the chanting hordes saw the pale glimmer underneath Vicious arrows randomly penetrating the crack and turning... sunflowers?... I traced another line, another crack, Then another, The frenzy in my movements growing, I dropped my irons... my plates, my bow, my glaive, Long slices of thin steel peeling down at the tips of my fingers like unfolding sepals uncovering unborn petals creased with birth’s long sleep, The pile at her feet growing, My tired arm slowing, The paleness of her skin glowing... ...skin?... flesh?... woman?... My ignoble deed done, Naked to me, Only the mirage of steel between her and unabating fury... My Achilles gate of passage, warrior? The whole of me and only you to know it. Defiant Proud Beautiful. Embarrassed, anxious, hesitating, I started dressing her up in the intricate texture flowing out the arrow-sharp end of her feather. Only once I pricked her skin. “Your blood is blue,” I said. You are writing it, she answered. The world raged. We loved.

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Blink Under eyelashes descending softly Like a twin guillotine caught in its most horrible of nightmares... ...slowly grinding to a deadly halt before reaching its deadly goal... Till finally the blink completes and the lash cuts through the miles long steel wire binding our gaze. I almost expect hearing the zinggg of the unleashed wire’s coils squirming all the way from your eye to mine and then biting its tail whip inside my cheek down to the bone. I see the flush deepening on your face... ...did it bite you?... I ask and your teeth sew my lips into a triple seam of silence as the vise of your groin splits my spine and the gimlet piercing your body evicts the scream forged in your lungs excruciating the hospitality of your insides and awakening grim grins of envy from authorities perched high on the Olympus kingdom. Under eyelashes ascending slowly The chrysanthemums hanging heavily at the end of each undulated hair forcing your lash muscles to strain tearily as they drag the kaleidoscopic load upwards Till the destiny of that last piece of sigh forgotten inside your lungs becomes as clear as the clear patch of meadow uncovered in your eyes and reflecting those of my flames still dying lambent on our lips... ...sigh?... you sigh. You are my sunshine, I say. I know this song, you say. You are my sunshine, I say. I know, you say. Your next blink unravels itself and the chrysanthemums turn chrysalides turn chrysograph as butterflies paint golden symbols underneath your eyes with spidery legs dipped in the pollen of your dying storm telling a story of love which just ended to begin. Let me read it to you, I say, reading without waiting for your answer busy as you are blinking swarms of butterflies into the world. Past beyond uncharted pathways lost through desert’s brainless miles Where forgotten words unspoken shed unbirthed budding smiles Love undying you will harvest when the gold inside your ink Paints a bud into a flower into one and only blink. You blink. One and only. You painted, you say. I harvest, I say. I love you, we say.

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Erotoismically, Partly or Shalosh Peamim Chi Chai or Scrambled after screaming my name... my shoulders aching for relief from the fangs... no!... I objected loudly against my better judgment just as you started pulling your canines out no!... I kissed in your ear listening to your wheezing nasal breath fading away the hard concrete of my bulk sinking into the hard concrete of your shape mingling into one colossal mess of bubbling matter and the banging fists asking to be relieved from the caverns of our hearts finally resigning to being walled forever each closing the valve to its own privacy and nothing rested of that eternal moment except for those canines deeply implanted inside the muscle of my shoulder. * holding my finger inside your fist locked on my... your ring and pulling me up the stairs I following your undulating flesh to be offered a willing sacrifice to the slaughtering ceremony of my fantasies and lives and loves of past present and future all but the fantasy and live and love of past present and future holding my finger inside her fist locked on my... her... your ring dropping my shivering flesh on the soft altar of the creaking bed and anchoring inside my chest the umbilical cord unseverable from that placenta in turmoil boiling in your breast mouth loins and... heart. * the clicking lock the bursting light bulb the beasts undefined impatiently growling at civilization’s attempts to leash life inside seams and buttons and cotton and lace unable to withstand claws and fangs and damnation’s tempest when we cut through each other’s impenetrable shield fingers rigidly locking into one connubial savage spasm thigh muscles clenching to thigh muscles clenching to thigh muscles clenching to thigh muscles bellies petrified mouths obeying the laws of lust... love unable unwilling unwillingly untangling tongues threshing wildly like a snake’s tail its head on fire its lust... love worthy of the blazing death climbing inside bursting veins and twitching lungs and smoldering lava spit leftovers.

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Differently? I touch your skin with the back of my palm, sliding softly, Then lower my freshly cut fingernail ends till they scoop a thin layer of dry epidermis as they run up against the skin’s natural grain, And untrodden tunnels between your skin and your flesh fill up swiftly with chills mindlessly following the Pied Piper swish of long brittle slivers penetrating and sinking between nails’ plate and nails’ bed and heart’s yearn and singing love ballads along deepening groves... Are you always so tender after lovemaking? you ask. I am... always, I answer. Are you? you ask. Think, I urge. You don’t answer for hours, then days, then... Are you still thinking? I ask, worried. You don’t answer for hours, then days, then... Are you still thinking? I ask, worried. Thinking about what, my love? About... tenderness, I answer, uncertain. Oh, I know about it, my love, I was just wondering if you knew about it, you answer. Something in the dialogue is escaping me, I am not sure if it is a logical flaw or... You are cute when your forehead wrinkles this way, you smile up at me and roll around exposing an ungleaned path of skin to the exploration of my bleeding fingernails. I have been counting, we have not made love for weeks. Whatever the logic, I had my answer by now. I guess that you... always had it.

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Whichever Heart There is a certain melody in my head, Thickly flowing, invasive, haunting, I know not its words, it has none, I know its destination, it has one, My heart. I try to capture the sense of the sound My brain a mixture of pitches and scales And harmonic and pentatonic and melodic And an abnormal nine scaled staff residing in My heart. Listen to my fingers typing these lines... Do you hear the beauty in the randomness Of chaos as it tries to settle inside the holes Liberated by notes knocked out of the hum of My heart? The limping sound reaches for recognition, Its spidery unformed hands pleading, Whirlpools of sensations turning wishful yearns Into colorful splinters cutting highways inside My heart. Wait! I say the one word as my hand shoots out And takes hold of elbow and arm and body And the vibrations of unwordable euphonies Sink silently down the unfathomable abyss of Your heart. * The songs you draped in glitter drops Pervade abysmal depths unsung To glean abundant sunlit crops And spill your love upon my tongue. Beneath arcades of paths unkind Red tulips hang in mirthful pose And spill sweet beads inside my mind Till wail turns trill and weed turns rose. A lament’s bashful word succumbs To plodding passion laden verse And bubbling smiles sip laughter crumbs As gleaming eyes your gaze rehearse. An eagerness as none renown Descends with eve beneath my lip Where lilacs blue in pain have grown Awaiting for your mouth to rip. Oh, let your heart my heart alight And let my heart your heart enrich Then sing me life throughout my night Then let my song your life bewitch.

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Intricate I saw words you wrote, Simple, clear, I love you. I promised myself to answer when I wake up from the dream, wishing myself to sleep longer afraid to wake up from the dream and find out it was a dream. I was doomed to not keep my promise, I did not wake up. One does not wake up from no dream. Too tired to understand my own philosophy I broke my promise and answered. I love you.

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Artifacts Of Love I will carve new psalms of glory In your body’s yielding quarry, Sparkling dust your lungs will nourish, Daisies in your eyes will flourish, Stifled moans in lips incising Love’s emblazing oratory. Bones and flesh the godly easel Holding skin against the chisel Of my strolling playful fingers, In your nostrils lilac lingers From those squashed one thousand bunches And you dance into the drizzle. In your mouth my tongue will saunter Bragging like a cocky vaunter As it builds a blazing castle, Soft your touch, your whisper gracile Yet your teeth bite like a grapple When your smile turns laughing flaunter. With those nipples rude and vicious Let me knead pastries delicious In a mist of wine and honey Soaking freckles pale and sunny From those mires unforgotten Depth of magic surreptitious. Through... ...sweet lover, wait a little, Fore you cut, and paint, and whittle, Is it your declared ambition Trace a path to my perdition, Rend me soft and lithe yet brittle?... Lover sweet, this ain’t a riddle, Through your out and in and middle Art will pour its raging torrent, You and I will pledge this warrant Long as bridges share the fire Love will play its timeless fiddle...

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Lunch “Lunch, Why don’t you write about lunch?” she asked, munching, The amorphous soft mush in her mouth visible shortly and my only wish at that moment was to be part of that mush and write about it while slowly being quashed into shapeless glut sliding down her throat and discovering virginal landscapes no man before me did... I, the explorer, the discoverer, veneered by generations to come for being the first and only of modern adventurers to trace the paths of love and die in action. I smiled. “I love you,” I said. She misinterpreted both my smile and my words continuing enthusiastically inside a shower of crumbs and salivated particles spraying on hands clenched on the table in front of us. The crush of that handhold... turbojet noise penetrating regularly through the thick windows. I squeezed my leg against the suitcase at my foot to prevent it from trembling and hoping to die. “Everyone thinks mornings and breakfasts are so cool... sunrise, flowers opening, birds singing, dew... blehhh...” and another shower of crumbs and saliva... oh, I loved her... “Oh, I love you,” I said. She didn’t even hear me. “...nobody mentions the ugly swollen eyes, the peeing, the shitting, morose housewives, aggressive drivers, and the dew... ha... dries leaving corrosive stains on the leaves with worms eating their way inside the chlorophyll trove... brrr...” She shuddered. I don’t think she shuddered at the mental image she used as her fingers kept mauling mine and rolling the ring around my finger. “...now candles dinner... pffft...” I tried to catch one of the bigger crumbs with my teeth... “...mosquitoes buzzing around the candle light sometimes the poor things fizzling in the flame, sunset ‘eye ee’...” she was verbally trying to say i.e. ... “...’eye ee’ death, followed by sex...” “Nothing wrong with sex...” “...surely not, but why glorify the dinner around it?...” “Before it.” I was trying to be funny, I was in pain, She was in pain, We were in pain. “Lunch on the other hand...” “I just wrote it, ‘Lunch’.” “You did what? You did? When?” “Just now. You asked for it. I wrote it. You asked. I did. I do.” There was not enough glitter in the world to fill up that abyss of that green inside those eyes. Yet, somehow, there was. It even overflowed. “I am sorry, I shouldn’t cry, I shouldn’t cry, I am sorry...” she repeated. She broke my heart. “You never need tell me you are sorry,” I breathed in her ear, “unless when you know it will... not be accepted.” She pulled away violently closing her fist, ready to strike. “It’s never,” she raged. “It’s human,” I philosophized. “It’s never,” she raged again. “I did say never,” I concurred, Knowing what both of us meant Sinking into that terrible pain you can inflict only upon those who love you the most unable to calm, to curb, to soothe. “I am sorry...” I added and she exploded in a heart wrenching laughter the glitter underneath her eyes staining my cheeks. “You cry,” she said. “I don’t,” I lied. How long did we hug? The security officer shuffling his legs impatiently, The queue behind us more patient than officialdom. “Wait...” she tore a corner of my newspaper and scribbled hastily lunch I pulled it away from her and scribbled next to it never She pulled it back forever never... A few polite, some more some less, coughs down the queue pulled us unceremoniously back from our developing penpalship. I ripped her lips... did she rip mine?... I asked myself hiding inside my aisle seat refusing to swallow the few crumbs I culled from her mouth and the few ice-tea flavored saliva drops and unmistakable vestiges of her hue of lipstick... Lunch, Eternal, And I kept rolling them in my mouth till the biological wonders of enzymes and sugars and bacteria melted them all into non existence. I still wondered how did the inexistent shapeless mass reach my eyes when I smelt lipstick flavors rolling down long that infernal cavity between cheek and nose. Guess I cried.

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Cobra Her eyes were brimming with tiny blue lilac flowers, The black hole of pupil unable to absorb the flood as the green forest of iris started submerging. Then the dams burst. I watched closely, The tide of four petalled cups reaching to our ankles, Then to our shins, Our knees, Then... half thigh high I spotted it... the three petalled one and my fingers snatched it from the corner of her lip like a cobra striking for life. I held it between thumb and forefinger looking at it intently gravitation vainly trying to pull it away from my hold, fighting over it, then I closed my eyes, spit on it and threw it inside my shirt. “What are you doing?” she asked, the fragrant sea around us reaching by now to our chests. “This is what I did as a kid, hunting for the three petalled flower making a wish and making sure it comes true.” “Did any of them come true?” “I found you, didn’t I?” The flood turned to a tide, reaching our neck. “What did you wish for now?” she asked. I refused to say. “Please...” I clammed up stubbornly. “My body?” “I have it.” “My love?” “I have it.” She hesitated before throwing her last flame in. “Me?” “I have you, don’t I?” Quiet, Just the hissing sound of flowing flowers singing in our ears, The valleys beneath us full, The fields around us flooded, The sea reached our chins. “Tell me, before we drown in beauty...” she pleaded. “Maybe we should drown in beauty,” I said. “I wish to live in beauty,” she answered, “please tell me...” flowers starting to pour into her mouth, “...what of me you wished?” I hesitated. I said. “Your pain,” I said. The flood stopped, little eddies playing around our lips. A few crystals rolled from her eyes replacing the lilac flood then they stopped. “You love me, you know?” “I love you, you know?”

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What Better Answer? In your car, The phone to your ear, Your favorite song playing and you singing along. In my chair, The phone to my ear eyes closed heartbeat inexistent, the only sense alive... my hearing and those flowing vowels and syllables and notes the unprofessional beauty of love sung of audible breath breaks and inaudible subliminal whispers... I love you... you did not whisper, you thought. I hear your thinking, I thought back. You did not answer, just kept on singing. What better answer?

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Moments, Simple Young woman... I am woman, I ain’t no young. Just what I was saying. She smiled. Sneaky. And you know my age. I know some stars, millions of years old, They are still young. I ain’t no star. I looked at her askance. She laughed. OK, I ain’t a star... the a exploding like a cannonball full of flowers. True, you are woman, more than a star. And less. Yeah, less in age, thus younger. Less in warmth... Watch it!... ...thus approachable, otherwise I would burn to death. You don’t want to burn to death in me? I want to burn to life in you... I was leaning against the bed’s headboard, She was leaning against my chest. Naked. Both of us. Young woman... I picked up where I left off earlier on, Yes, young man! This was an unexpected jab. I didn’t mean to be a wise guy. Neither did I mean to be a wise girl. I couldn’t see her eyes drowning as I was in that flaming hair, Was there the bubble of mocking laughter hiding in that voice? I sneaked swiftly from underneath her, Lay on top of her pinning her arms to the mattress and looked into her eyes. Mistake. Terrible mistake. She did not mean to be a wise girl and there was no bubbling mockery growing in there. She started turning into a star. I started burning.

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Pow! point a stiff forefinger to the middle of my forehead rest of fingers tight against the palm of your hand, your head at a slant, your thumb bending upwards cocking the shot in one smooth move left eye closed, right aiming pull the trigger slowly... pow! the tunnel crossing my head front to back shrieking of emptying life as inarticulate limbs join a deflating chest hitting the ground with a short dry thud. courageous, aren’t you? you ask pointing the finger cocking the thumb pulling the trigger slowly... I close my eyes waiting for the train to hit me... why do the rest of fingers start unfolding one after the other the thumb relaxes the gun turns palm turns flesh sliding across my scalp down my nape to back of neck where it rests tightening clenching pulling till my forehead meets yours and my reluctant mouth gives up the cry of agony for the cry of ecstasy as lips teeth tongues merge and death ensues... a much nicer way to die, don’t you think? you ask. didn’t know it exists, I answer. now, that you know?... I waited the years till physical death reached over greeting me, asking you again for a last time kiss after so many passed killing me, killing me, killing me... then finally I answered the answer you knew of long and I never voiced. the only way to die. I died.

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Reflections, One in collection: mirrors I kept trying to catch myself in back of the mirror, looking at my face then... rushing to the back trying to surprise me... never succeeding. Finally she got tired of me... my lover, not my image, turned the mirror around and threw me on the bed making love like an enraged animal, so beautiful... She fell asleep, not hearing the sob on the other side. I covered her up to the chin then turned the mirror around once more, offering my image a cigarette. Sorry, my brother, I will share with you everything I have but... not my love. It pained me terribly as he insisted, he cried and tried to reach out to her. I shot him. I watched the shards reflecting pieces of me, slowly sliding underneath a puddle collecting my blood.

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Reflections, Two in collection: mirrors She came in through the bathroom mirror... as Joe Cocker would have said, Sneaked into the tiny water pellets pummeling my body abusing my human frailty and fancy and making disembodied love to every piece of dripping skin. I could have killed her, easily, my hand on the tap’s handle... shivering... I let her make love to me a million times a million drops feeling her as she gathered herself into one enveloping liquid skin pulling away from my body yet sticking to my mouth till finally she succumbed to her race’s call disappearing back into the mirror. Nobody believed me. Nobody could explain the twin drops of blood one drying on my lip and one fading in between the glass and the silver.

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Reflections, Three in collection: mirrors Her eyes green, her hair fire, her skin speckled snow, Hiding behind my reflection then from time to time getting close to the glass till I could smell her... were there lilacs in this other world? I tried to touch her skin, the cold glass wall impenetrable to touch yet... I felt her warmth radiating, enveloping. Solve the riddle... her lips were forming the words... then you can join me. I did not even know which riddle I was supposed to solve crumbling into a wailing mass against the mirror. The riddle of life... she added, pale, wishful, sad. There is no life without love I yelled and hit the mirror with my fist. The fist fell through, I fell through, I touched her... You found it, she shone. The gate closed. I was home.

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Reflections, Four in collection: mirrors The mirrors started peeling, everywhere. She started pulling away from me... I must go, it is the end... I looked at her, bewildered. Go? End? Where and what and why? Your world is coming to an end, we must flee. Same incomprehension in front of her tears... We? A few young girls nearby changed in one fluid movement into huge butterflies and with a mighty wings flap disappeared into the mirrors... gasps... people screaming... I felt her hand turning soft, brittle... I refused to let go, slender antennae forming on her forehead... Who, what are you?... I am the mirror people, we came looking for love, your world is ending, we must return... she started crying. Wait, I screamed in pain, did you find love? She stopped. She cuddled into me. The last mirror peeled. She died.

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Reflections, Five in collection: mirrors I rolled the thick mirror into a cone, stretched my arm all the way up through the clouds and scooped a few of the tinier stars inside... they kept burning, reflecting endlessly between the curved surfaces. I offered her the sparkling bouquet, admiring her composure. There was just a slight tremor to her voice... are you a God? I did not laugh, it would have been condescending, I preferred to smile as I answered – Gods do not fall in love, men do. She accepted the bouquet, holding it to her chest, kissing me lightly. So what is it that I saw, men do not glean stars inside mirror cones? Men in love will do the strangest of things, I answered, Picking from her other hand the popcorn cone and crunching exploded seeds between my teeth. She kissed me wildly, the mirror shattering to the ground and stars rolling all over the city...

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Half Hearts She gave me half her heart. No, not the flesh heart, That one she gave me in its entirety wrapped in red ribbons, and white roses, and silver vows. She gave me half of her other heart, The one wrapped in golden memories. I lost mine, she told me one day. Did you lose your memories? I asked. No, just the heart. Then you can share mine, I said. Your heart or your memories? Both, I answered.

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The Shop You write so beautifully about pain, Unfortunately you have so much of it to write. You write so beautifully about love, Unfortunately you have so little of it to write. I did my best to balance Giving you oceans of the one... Unfortunately a few grains of the other sneaked in, So difficult to sift the oceans of so many mixed colorful grains. You balanced it your way, Writing about both, looking for the solution to the riddle, Knowing there is no solution to the riddle. Knowing there is pain, and love, and us. * I have fire stones pouring from the sky in my shop, you said. I have gems exploding in my eyes in my shop, you said. I have joyful music sometimes sad in my shop, you said. Do you have love in your shop? I asked. You looked through your books, shelves... You don’t know? I wondered. I know, I am looking for it, I may have misplaced it. Is it so little? Much bigger than your ocean, young man. So why is it so difficult to find? Because I folded it till someone will ask for it. Am I the first? You are the first to mean it... oh, here it is... you apologized, After shamelessly having opened your shirt and pointing to your bare breast. I was about to leave, blushing. Wait, you said, you were looking for love, weren’t you? Yes, I answered, my blush deepening. You picked my hand and cupped it unceremoniously over your left breast. Something slid into my palm, I pulled my hand back, alarmed. Silly man, it is love, you laughed closing your shirt. I looked at the small stain sticking to the inside of my palm, of undefined color, and size, and shape... What is it? I asked Love, in its raw state, unkempt, unbridled, untamed. Are you a love whisperer? A love whisperer? I thought there are only horse whisperers. Are you a love whisperer? you repeated. I did not answer. Are you the love whisperer? you repeated. I knew it was the third time and last. I neared the open palm to my face, eyeing the stain closely. It seemed to change color and size and shape slowly, continuously. I neared my lips to it and I whispered jerking my head back as it unfolded once along its middle doubling in size. I whispered again, it unfolded again. Is there an end? I asked, after doing it for a third time. I don’t know, no one whispered to it before, you answered. I stopped asking whispering again, and again, and again... The stain grew into a field, then it turned into a forest, then turned the size of the world painful twitches masking from time to time your sun and clawing at my heart... ...sorry, wrong whisper... ...that’s alright, you are learning... It was getting late, Night eyes started blinking all around us. Are you sure you want me to go on? I dared ask. Can you? I can. So can I. * Midnight. Long past time for shops to close. I tried to pay, you refused, This is your shop, I insisted. This is our home, you answered, adding This is our love, I guess that one day we will fill the universe. I wonder, does the universe have an end? I did not wait for an answer, there was none and one, only. I just kept on whispering.

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Body Dimensions You stretched your arms to your sides and started turning around and around... What are you doing? Defining the size of my world, This is it, and you kept turning. It looks crowded, so full with you, Will I fit in? It is up to you, I can make place, Do you mind if you are a bit squashed, sometimes trodden on your toes, smelling my bodily odors, rubbing into my sweating flesh, listening to my anguished cries? Will you accept me in if I say No? Yes. Will you accept me in if I say Yes? Yes. Will you accept me in if you don’t know my answer? Yes. We started undressing almost at the same moment Knowing The only place I can offer is close to my skin, you said, and I already knew it, Every other cubic inch taken with life, The thickness of your clothes taken with dreams. You honor me with the most valuable space in your world. No, I offer you the most valuable space in my world, It is up to you to accept it. We finished undressing tossing our clothes far beyond world’s edge Then I approached you, hugged you and started turning together with you. It was crowded there in the dream landscapes close to your skin, so many colors, words, I even heard music... was it your heart or mine? You squashed me, trod on my toes your bodily odors filling my lungs your sweat burning into my cuts your anguished cries dying inside my mouth. I said Yes. I know. I clothed your skin with my dreams as yours started clothing mine. We never became aware of the sunset. Isn’t sunset the time when worlds end? Isn’t sunset the time when dreams begin?

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Softness Let my fingers smear your tear Let my whispers lick your cheek And while craves my reason shear Glimmers shy through sorrows peek. I smeared your mascara long your nose, my forefinger sinking into the swelling tears-pregnant blob and dragging it into a valley of blues, and greens, and violets, the splash forming tiny powdery stalactites between your lips. I whispered... only you heard my whisper... against your cheek and the colorful creek dried, minuscule flowers exploding beneath your eyes, petals the thickness of skin fluttering in the breathing breeze and floating down inside your mouth to finally die inside the forests of your lungs. Happiness? Maybe. Love? Certainly. Dreams? Beauty. As my knuckles dry your eye And my touches test your breast Sprouts the answer to your why As you smile into my nest.

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The Skin Will Picking one hair, The fire cutting through my fingers as I knot it to another one, Then to another... ...by the time you are finished I will be completely bald... you giggle, Then to another one, I don’t need many... I take your hand, fingers twined tight, and start rolling the knotty string around our pale skin, round, and round, and round... I’ve never seen such handfasting... you rhyme. I’ve never loved, I say, waiting. I’ve never seen love, you rhyme. I’ve never loved, I say, waiting. I love you, you rhyme. I always did, I say. The thin fire line melts underneath our skin, sinking in the flesh, leaving one unending rolling scar. Will it ever heal? you ask. Yes, I answer, the skin will.

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Yawns I kept talking and she kept yawning. Then we changed roles She kept talking and she kept yawning. No, not fully symmetrical, I know, Though hilarious. “Sorry...” she yawned again mid of an exciting tale of cops and robbers and guns. “Thank you,” I said, “for telling me how boring I am,” a smile as wide as the Mississippi at its widest spreading on my face. She couldn’t see it, slumped as she was in her car’s seat a few miles (three thousand of them) away. “Oh, I am just...” yawn... “tired.” The yawning distance in minutes between the above just and the following tired was on the order of roughly sixty. Sixty minutes, mind you, or about an hour in international terms. I watched the dollars clicking off the phone counter, another one, and another one, while waiting patiently for the tired to be phrased, the soft breathing and occasional snore or snort or whatever traveling the wire distance to my ear in parts of a second and I still found it too slow. I closed my eyes, imagining the picture, wading in happiness. “You know, you paid me the biggest compliment a lover could pay,” I said, “You fell asleep on me.” “I did not...” her voice slurred, guess her eyes slurred too and she was just wondering why. “And why would it be, not that I admit to it, why would it be a copliment?” she continued, the missing ‘m’ not a typo, it was missing on her tongue. “Because... only when you admit to being loved the way I claim to love, you allow yourself to yawn and to slur and to fall asleep in the middle of a conversation.” “I did nothing of the kind...” I heard the car’s door closing and the legs shuffling towards the house, “and you are an ipertinent lover...” here it goes, the ‘m’ again, “and if you were not so far away...” a worrying quiet followed... “Hey, don’t fall asleep, not yet, please...” I shouted in her earpiece and moments later I heard a thump, a soft one. “Hey, and you don’t have to shout me deaf, silly” she complained, “I just lay down a bit to take a rest...” First she yawns, Then she calls me silly... Talking about love declarations... It was a cheap connection, I let my phone open for hours just listening to heaven singing praise hymns through her stuffed nostrils, then I finally blew a kiss she would never hear and closed the line. Yeap, I think she knows. I love her.

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Mela'n'Choly Combing the strands of time, Mental fingers sinking deep in the abundant moments An accommodating silky feeling caressing their ends, knuckles as they scoop handfuls of long undulating hair impregnated with stars, cosmic dust, memories. Fingers open slightly sifting out lust, passion, even love, Watching them fall in a continuous blinking glitter into the hungry mouth of yesterday, disappearing, gone. Even love? then what is left? your eyes big, green, devastating. I let my fingers parade their choice in front of my senses abstractedly pinning each item like a prize butterfly inside a golden box... The first regard, touch, kiss, stubborn button, The countdown to that terrible moment when all I was left with in my hand was a FooFoo soda bottle, Tears, Losing you, finding you, losing you, finding you swearing to die before losing you again, Smiles, Words, Poetry, Hopes... Your fingers are quite selective, you say, I was worried for a moment when you let lust, passion, love drop out. I dropped out the obvious, Kept in the subtle. There is still lust, passion, love even in the subtle, you smile, you did not do a very accurate sifting job. I did, I smile back, very accurate. I sink my fingers again in yesterday’s fading light seeding the glitter of tomorrow’s glory. I say... You... and let your breath engulf me and my butterflies.

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You'll Never Be A June Bride Do you mind? I asked her, watching her unroll the beauty of red ribbon from our hands. I waited for her answer. I listened to sounds of orange orchards blossoming waiting for the fragile tendrils of invading fragrances bathe my skin and rape my senses, Then I moved my attention to the sun, long gone, the swish of flames falling beneath the sky in a frenzy of rebellious refusal drowning in the sputter of igniting stars impertinently tasting the wine leftovers on her lips and shooting back to me their arrogant sparkle, I just started listening to desert’s grains of sand sighing in an agitated sleep under the chill of a roving misty blanket... When I felt the ribbon rolling around my neck and she tugged at the ends... lightly, mind you. You do not listen, she complained, singing, dragging me back into her skin. I do, I answered, helping her tug stronger. And what did I say? she insisted. You said you will always be a May bride. The glitter, painting incredible designs in her eyes. I thought you were somewhere else for a moment, she said, rolling the rest of the ribbon around her neck, close to mine, tight. Tiny voices... the blossoming orange flowers and the falling sun flames and the igniting stars and the sighing grains of sand and the... asking, pleading, begging me to keep their secret... I was, I admitted, I was listening to you. We did not sleep the rest of that night. We listened to the beginning of our life.

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Disney Magic Let me be your hugging Pooh, Sing you songs like gay Baloo, Stick the grains of Disney magic to your cheeks with rhyming glue, And at midnight’s wailing peal Sink my teeth in Miss de Vil As your chariot is parting and I scoop your crystal shoe. Will you be my crazy Tigger Ever silly, always eager To glean honey pots from heaven... Why?... I don’t know, go and figure, And while I play Cinderella And you deal with vile Cruella Pluto spills beyond the image as his grin grows ever bigger? Or you wish another habit, Mickey, Goofy, Roger Rabbit? Long as toons bestride your reason and your infant fingers grab it... Infant?... Yes, in mind and passion... Long as I’m your daily ration And your Duchess... dear O’Malley, take my heart, let beauty stab it. Bambi turned majestic king, Simba wears a royal ring, Belle and Beast and Sleeping Beauty cheer King Louie’s jungle swing, Yet I’ll keep my mumbo-jumbo Flap my ears and be your Dumbo And if fly I fail... remember, lay one daisy every spring.

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Part I Cularly Silly in collection: sillies Miss your summer when I’m cold Miss your autumn when I’m old Miss your winter when I’m dead And you send me spring instead. Wish me sunshine when I’m cold Wish me reason when I’m old Wish me daisies when I’m dead And you sing me songs instead. Dress me naked when I’m cold Dress me cotton when I’m old Dress me silver when I’m dead And you dress me dreams instead. Kiss you passion when you’re cold Kiss you touches when you’re old Kiss you kisses when you’re dead And I kiss you love instead.

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The Words You Wish To Hear you wish to hear the words you wish to hear inside your mouth a blizzard leaping tongue to tongue to end your gasping drouth, when all to do you have is hear the whispers down your heart then trace them, voiced my awkward ways, inside my clumsy art. to hear the gulps of budding youth of promise pink and vows uncouth the crunching sound of broken glass from spelling wrong to lack of class the growling pup’s asserting drool the ramming veal’s almighty bull the everlasting sugared love in rhyme with glove, above and dove. yet... when the night descends uncalled and pouring stars your shoulders scald you fold your head inside your wing then forth and back you swing then swing to hear the words you wish to hear inside your mouth, your cheek, your tear... with you to be till ends the day on mustangs black and white and bay my naked palm beneath your heel to carpet paths to worlds unreal and mornings all and morning each to bring a sun inside your reach. beneath its light let ire ebb, just err alighting naught, while songs betraying gods of wroth inside your ring are wrought, and while my warbled queer of mind bestrides my clumsy art if so you wish you’ll hear the words deep down inside your heart.

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Afterlust Whisper stranger, Let your lyre Carpet fields with lush desire And when day betrays horizons turn my skin a lusting pyre. Rope the beast And all its litter, Listen to its rage and jitter As it claws my bone to marrow growling for its sweet and bitter. Hitch a sun To tip of finger In the softness let it linger Till my screams decay to music and the bitch to mournful singer. Whisper lover, Guide the shiver Deep beneath the bulging river, Hold my hand, behold my sunrise, as my quake turns lasting quiver. * Lover dear Of lust unspoken And of tender love unbroken, You’re my heart, my life, my morrow, you’re my Aphrodite token.

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Nectar, Playfully Lay your head upon my knee May this be your entry fee To the land of green tomorrows Lush in lust and bare of sorrows Where a cheeky playful bee From your eye its nectar borrows. Move it on along my thigh Drooling dreams of rawhide rye Watching eagle’s mighty swooping And a snowbell’s gentle drooping As a hummingbird drops by From your cheek sweet nectar scooping. Linger not around the deli On your way up to my belly Lambent fires fiercely licking Savage mustangs madly kicking Yet a grizzly’s heart turns jelly From your eyebrows nectar picking. Red of hair and white of breast Now that you have reached my chest Tempest growls through music mellow Lightning white through sunrise yellow Steals a dragon’s ending quest From your throat its nectar bellow. There’s my chin and there’s my lip Ends your pert and reckless trip Through those lands of trilling thunder Sigh by me and do not wonder When my teeth which rove and rip From your mouth love’s nectar plunder.

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There, By Your Side There, by your side, Sinking the anchor in beauty, The thick chain around my ankle So gentle its vicious hold As you sing your siren song to me And I leave my ankle behind Limping after you. There, by your side I hide. Forgive my love... Inside, My bride, I died. There, by your side, You let me pass in front of you Treading in my steps And uncoiling the seaweed creeper from around my body Plaiting it with the silver in your bridal gown And weaving a crown to my head. Your king? My wife? My ring. Your life.

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Of Ribbons Then I dyed the ribbon red Ribbon white I dressed the bed And when morning curled undone Blinked the sun When I said I thee wed. Ribbons red and white your gown Ribbons white and red all town White the cheek beyond the lip I will strip From your crown Sunset’s frown. Ribbon’s splendor in your hair In your eyes the ribbon’s flare Clings the green to tearful lake In its wake Bless my lair Lady fair. Ribbons hands to ribbons tie Ribbons side by ribbons lie Don’t forget the sliding dart Through my heart If you cry I will die. Ribbons slide through ribbonned sheet Ribbonned hearts with ribbons meet Twining fingers squash the noon Into tune Swallows tweet Seasons meet. Ribbons red and ribbon’s sea Ribbons white and ribbon’s spree East or west then north or south Let your mouth Ever be Here by me.

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May I Pull Them Corners Up? I won’t request that you forget your sadness, Shadows of regret bedaubing butterflying wings and all those once-upon-a springs adorned racemes three rainbows deep and one unending nectar’s nip Now swollen with one morning’s weep and sweat. I pray just heed my humble plea and listen, Hear my raving glee before the swish of racing pen ascribes to death forget-me-then and fills your pages with a lure of taste sublime and hues demure Suffused with love as crystal pure and sea. Now take the rhymes I wrote and then remember, There’s my hidden glen awaiting drunken in its rye one rubescent and green-of-eye creation sewing words and runes and mouth to mouth and lips to tunes Forgetting why and where of moons and when.

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Of Ends When I stop writing you poems of love You know that I may have stopped loving you or died. I stopped writing you. You waited for spring and blossoming white lilac and picked each single raceme Dipped the thin brush on the end of your tongue and started painting each single tiny petal until all were black. You refused to tie a black ribbon around the bush. You tied the red of our vows. You knew.

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