Love’s Inverse Economy

“What I am giving to the world
and not what the world is taking from me,”
ah, that this thought might in me
become rule and law,
a star radiating
from the shadowy deeps of my being,
consuming all in one fiery cataclysm
of a giving that scatters,
for only the richest give
without thought to what the world may take,
only the richest give
and are all the richer for it.

Here, love’s inverse economy,
that as one gives one grows
so long as one’s giving
outflows from one’s truest depth,
so long as one’s giving
comes from a vulnerable place,
from a heart that’s open to the world
and affirming itself through that opening,
affirming existence entire
even to the point of agony and tears,
even to the point of heartbreak and loss,
for love desires itself through love
wherever its feet may lead,
and love knows each tear is a seedling
in which womb trembles
a sky filled with stars.

Free Verse # 334 (cet infini poème)

Autumn leaves
tucked in her brown hair,
flowers strewn
amid the pages of a book,
a forest of perfume
intimately sleeping
in the worded grass.

~

In late autumn
her areolas
are two ripe figs
on my lips bursting
with the liquid heat of summer,
a crimson universe
brimming with stars.

~

On your windowsill
the raindrops gather
in puddles of pitter-patter,
birds of fiery feathers
singing into your room
the voice of my longing.

~

In the misted morning
my thoughts sway to you
like a bare branch shivering
against the gray sky

~

Those patterns coursing
the length of her lips,
little nooks and crannies
at each exhale
molding the air
into sensual poetry.

~

Son corps
une mer étoilée
et moi
un navire enivré
navigant le long
de cet infini poème

~

He placed his mouth on hers
and played her soul like a flute,
her body through its pores weeping
the fires of pure longing.

~

Her lush lips
a suave erotica
wet with red ache
to have his fullness
throbbing inside.

~

On her tongue
my fingers burn,
honed flames
aching to go inside.

~

At dawn you wake,
the imprint
of my hands and lips
all over your body,
an earth soaked
in the dew of longing.

Letter November 08, 2015

Writing to you is my triumph over existence, and even if one day everything falls still and mute this poem never will, its fires constantly burning shed all silent veils from over the face of existence, grafting you into the root and core of all that is. Thus, this whole efflorescence of life acts like an osmotic membrane carrying forth your substance and essence, celebrating and crowning your effulgence and light. Even death and nothingness like black flowers blossom on your lips of infinite light. In you, beloved, everything is overcome, overpowered, surrendered with nothing a more than touch of your fingertips, a whiff from your skin and hair. In you, beloved, ah…now let this poem fall still and like a speechless full moon conclude itself in the fullness of your womb.

Free Verse # 333 (free to walk the earth)

Her calm sensuality
a silhouette at dawn
falling over my sky,
a blanket weaving
all my breaths and stars
into the waterfall of her hair.

~

Like birds at dusk
returning to their nest
into her boudoir
my breaths steal
and there cluster
against her breasts
and nest like stars

~

In the liminal spaces,
at dawn, at dusk,
at the turn of the seasons
I feel you most acutely,
a thorn in my chest
radiating throughout
the pain of your absence

~

Learning you
the way the flame dissolves
wick and wax
into a fervent intimacy,
a union of light.

~

In vino veritas –
and that is how I sip her,
with religious fervor,
with veins aching
to flood with her truth.

~

I felt her breath
move into me
as the mist at dawn
seeps into the silent bay

~

Look at her…
the dew of dawn
in fervent folds
raining from her skin

~

Slowly
in endless ribbons
the nocturnal wind gathers
the waterfall of her hair
into a blanket covering
the face of the earth…

~

Eternity in her skin
a shapeshifting poem
displaying all the forms
the world contains,
from her inexhaustible womb
hurling them as waves.

~

Photographer unknown
Photographer unknown

In the deeps of darkness
your voice was the starlight
leading me home

~

Gazing your way…
a mariner
long lost at sea
looking at the horizon
and remembering home…

~

My arm
through the darkness
extends your way,
a branch heavy
with the rain of longing,
poem with each breath
invoking you…

~

Photographer unknown
Photographer unknown

Free to walk the earth
as a rain drop dissolved
in the ocean of the beloved

~

The olive complexion
of your skin
I caress like a flame
eager to take root
and flourish therein

~

Photographer unknown
Photographer unknown

Naked in these arms,
inside the rose a dewdrop
coming undone to become
the fragrance of this love.

~

In the silent eve
her face flickered
as though a candle
were lit within it,
its flame calling
the moth of poetry.

~

The fragrance
of your absence
slips over me
like a second skin,
a burning tunic
shedding my skin
and wearing me as you.

~

How you live in me…
for a mariner
long lost at sea
home is the absolute absence,
the sole reality.

Letter, November 02, 2015

Poetry — my lips reading your skin like a pen fervently writing, sip after sip of an ardent erotica, inking you indelible, hot breaths and tears tattooed into a poem none can read but you and me. And these poems inked in you — like all living things, like things forged with the force of life — overtime change and grow, even die, but dying they are like seeds in the earth bringing forth gardens and fields bursting with greenery and life. This, the force of life, this, poetry, this, my most holy and sacred, my raw naked heart I plant in you. And in you it will grow, even when I die, through you will impregnate the whole of life. Such is poetry and love as I envision them, infused into one, through our intimacy, our bond. Poetry, love, you — do you not see? you contain all and everything, and through giving you I am only returning but a fraction of what you gave me, my love, not out of a sense of indebtedness, no! but from an infinite gratitude. For, as the sun, through you, for you, I have become a principle of creation, a self-propelled wheel scattering your light into the depth of the universe. I love you, and my life and poetry are my testimony.

Free Verse # 332 (on the sidewalks of the night)

Photographer unknown
Photographer unknown

Writing her skin
in endless streams
as her veins turn,
highways of stars,
streets where lovers
join and meet.

~

mandala-cztery-drzewa

Envisioning her womb,
the timeless mandala
where the seasons turn,
the timeless wheel of life
dancing its dance.

~

Poetry came to me,
fangs injecting her perfume
into my veins,
reducing me to a bonfire
of metaphors and dreams,
a song bearing her name.

~

Between her eyes
my kiss planting
the heart of poetry

~

Sometimes
the sun at dusk
glimpses you
and mesmerized
is frozen looking at you
forgetting to bring the dawn
into some other place…

~

Her skin at dawn
a garden wet
with honey dew
and my tongue a flame
licking each drop back
to the source…
her starry areolas,
her well deep down.

~

Everywhere I go
I feel the heat of your breath
yet you I find nowhere
and it’s tearing me,
driving me mad.

~

Crepuscular glow
when her breath basks
the world in silence

~

Bury my breaths
seeds in your skin
and feel me grow
a forest within

~

On the sidewalks of the night
I wait for you,
my heart in my hand
a jasmine wreath,
a burning candle,
a poem waiting
to be written by you.

~

Leafing through her skin
each page a field of poppies
pouring velvet wine

~

On night’s altar
our mashed bodies
a sea of stars