The Waters of Her Love

From her earth
my recumbent growth spreads
covering her skin
in waves of green foliage,
of hot, burning tears,
each a germinating seed
rooted, growing,
a poem and a dream,
a sun blazing out
in her celestial sphere,
shouting her to an effulgence
that blinds the sight
and opens the heart’s eye
to the sacred text
which her being
in its very motion utters,
and uttering it
she gives birth to all of life,
to the emptiness that moulds
the formless into form,
melting all in a drop
of the waters of her love.

Her Face

Her face displaces reality, dislocates it and roots it firmly in the unreal, the surreal—bursting reality from its seams. Therein it burns, a sun transfiguring existence entire into a flame shivering amid our ribs, rooting us in the eternity of her fire. Her face, ultimately, is no more than the light calling us further and further into the mystical depth of a being embodying the whole of life. We submit, and in our surrender become the beings that we were born to be—beings forged of pure love; moths that have finally burned inside the house of flame and have become the raging flame itself, the very heart of dawn.

With thanks for Dan for the inspiration.

The Embrace

The sun at dusk
A bell ready to toll;
The stars
A heaving sea
Rippling infinite.
She held my hand,
A bird suddenly fled
Towards the rolling sky.
The garden curved and caved,
Now a womb, tightening,
Her flowers, thorns, and branches,
Her fragrant lips and insatiable mouth
Now lapping at our skin
As we around each other curled,
Two vines pressing their grapes,
The running sap licking the dry bones.
Time held his breath;
The river murmuring nearby
Stilled her voice.
The womb grew so tight
And the sky bled, rent asunder.
Silence still.
So dark, eyes and stars snuffed,
Yet the darkness was bright,
Illuminated by the absence of light.
On the surface of the water a fish leapt,
A poem making her first appearance
Then sinking back into the abyss,
A world beneath the world.
The gates flung open
And the vortex whirled us in.
What was seen cannot be unseen.
Still, the sun red with all the blood in the world
Held itself in the sky, ready to toll.
And the abyss groaned and sighed,
Heaving a final piece of ancient mystery,
A watery moan in which flow was distilled
All the bright darkness of the underworld.
And the garden was a flower
Suckling on our shared breast,
Blooming in the hidden sky.

She –

Her petrichor skin
a primal soil,
Her watery curves,
hills, fields, gardens,
hidden groves and sunlit openings,
Her eyes,
pristine ponds and clear skies dewing,
Her lips,
sickle moons shaping mists and dreams,
Her collarbones,
mountain ridges honing winds and clouds,
Her dark hair
a birthing womb of stars,
jasmine flowers, basil leaves,
lavender seeds, and rosemary needles –
She –
a transcendent being,
a limitless forest
where the poet, wandering,
goes deeper and deeper
and is forever lost,
vanishing, with no hope of return,
in the immensity of Her mystery.

Senryu # 54

What is a poem?
A clear dewdrop reflecting
The light of the sun.


We, too, as individuals, are poems. We are as good as we are clear, transparent, pure, for, the clearer, purer, and more transparent, the more radiant the light of the divine in us is reflected, the greater the effulgence of our heart in the embrace of the light of God. To become pure—let that be your striving. To become poems worthy of the light.

Poetics of Desire

Her moans
In endless droplets
Pooled into his body,
Flooding like a river,
Waves under his skin frothing
– the poetics of desire.


His each kiss
seared a dancing star
into the water of her flesh.
Midnight, and lo!
like a sun from his altar she rose,
her rapture flooding
night’s dreamy womb,
breaking the white pearl
on the shore of desire.

Free Verse # 202 (love has kissed their souls)

The passion of the ages
Harnessed in your cup
And I, a desert wanderer,
An itinerant heart
Whose endless thirst
Only your juice can slake.


My scent lingering on your skin
At night like a snake twists and turns,
Pressing my essence ever deeper,
Soaking you, whole.


Freydoon Rassouli, Birth of the Sun
Freydoon Rassouli, Birth of the Sun

Exuberant sun
From amid her hills rising –
Love has kissed her soul.


Poetry made flesh –
She, a cosmos of wild stars
Burning through the sky.


Where is she? I sighed,
And my breath like a bright star
Furrowed through the sky.


What of mind remains when your kiss
Being and heart has soaked in bliss
Incinerating to the core
A flesh that laps your endless shore

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.