Without you in my heart
all my poems
are birds with clipped wings
and pruned feathers
My touch ~ gliding along your secret hurt.
We crave a love so deep it would shatter the whole sky.
We crave a love so great it would drown the whole night.
I miss your scent which I have never known.
If wine and honey were to mix they would taste like our kiss.
I place my finger on your heart
and your body, like a white flower,
unfurls in my palms.
I graze at the nightsky
and then, each star collected in my mouth
I kiss into your hungry lips,
I sear into the eagerness of your wet skin.
your misty breath, on the lips of dawn,
over my body weeping.
a poem flutters from my heart
and perches by your window,
her song breaking through
the wet sky of your dreams,
reviving inside of you
visions of We,
and calling you home.
With each kiss I discover you
a little more, a little deeper,
my tongue sliding through
the fervency of your stars.
I set a burning poem
on the fringe of her skirt
and spin her, and spin her,
lo! a sun…
Like forest rain
falling into a hidden pond
so your heartbeats ripple my face,
wave its waters like a gentle song.
The spark of my longing
lights the oil of my heart
and I, like a star, set it in the sky,
blow its sail, bid it farewell,
may it find its way to you.
Like a whisper, like a dream,
like the water’s cool breath
you emanate from the heart of things,
like a dawn and tidal wave
you rise from the heart of me.
The poet, cut from his connection with the earth, will simply die. Knowingly or not, it is this union he sings first and last.
Poets are dangerous creatures, for they can be cut by a butterfly’s wing.