Bound

Unknown Photographer and Model
Unknown Photographer and Model

In endless fingers
my poetry circles your breath,
wrapping you,
within my sun planting you,
a solar embrace forging you,
a rose within my garden grown,
her roots forever suckling
at the sap of my heart,
her petals imbibing
the light of my eyes,
the honeyed nectar
her heart ferments
reaped into my cup,
a wine our merged lips savour
in the heart of the night.

I Miss You

Slowly, agonizingly
The clock moves,
And I miss you,
Each tick like lightning
Falling into my heart,
The roll of its thunder
Licking my skin inside out,
Weeping from my restless fingers
Letters of crimson
Whose only ache
Is your fingers to twine,
Searing my soul
With the image of your face
Now burning behind the horizon
Like the twilight sun.

Letter, January 17, 2014

Breath is sacred. It is the breath which animates life. And the breath itself, fading into silence, reveals the whole sky, the void eternally birthing the world into existence.

You are much more than a beloved. You are the world and its every sway, tangible and unseen. You are the divine embodied; the breath which beats life into me.

Torn

A heart eager to suckle
at the tip of her fiercely burning blade
as if it were the roots of life itself—
thus my heart beats wilder and wilder
feeling the exquisite burn sink deeper
through the ribs of my chest,
and my eyes brimming with desire
burst with pure tears
that spill like incense
into the furnace this lust.
The quivering center of my being
now shudders infinite
like an abyss of light,
a heart inside out torn open
into a flow of poetry and stars
eager to be graced
with the touch of her skin,
the caress of her breath.
Poetry like a sigh dies upon my lips
and becomes the silent breath
fluttering through city and forest
eager to rest in the dawn of her eyes.

To The Muse

Letter, January 05, 2014

The more I love you the greater my solitude grows. For nothing in the world attaches or holds me anymore but you. And then, a step further, not even your love. Even your love lets me go, releases me into the thick night of wonder where solitude itself, doused like the light of a distant star, becomes the whole sky, all the stars and the space in between.