Tanka # 114

From me to you
the path
that cannot be seen,
a breath of tea
in autumn’s silence.

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Free Verse # 415 (in the layers of poetry)

Her body is the place I come to when I long to remember, when I long to forget. Her body is the image at its fountainhead — the soul embodied.

~

The image of her hands
comes at night,
the burning wings
of a fluttering moth,
a candle’s breath
dreaming.

~

Sedimented
in the layers of poetry
the moonlight that once shun
on the shore as we kissed,
the frail scent of a basil
kissing your cheek at dawn.

~

Lovemaking is not unlike breadmaking, and when the bread rises there you have it.

~

The death
growing inside of me
shall one day blossom
and waft me like a sigh
over the sea of eternity

~

A te toucher je frissonne
comme les débuts du printemps,
comme un feu qui prend souffle
de l’intime corps de l’amour.

~

Silence descends
like a spring-shower;
in the openness I listen
to the voice of the One.

~

I’m disappearing in you again
like the tolling sound of a bell
in the fog of memories

~

Autumn night reading…
the birdsongs I follow
through the branches of words
always somehow lead
to a clearing in the forest
where I am one with you