In Your Shadow

The bee and butterfly
spend their lives
in the flower’s shadow,
fluttering, forever,
inside the cloud
of her fragrance,
rhyming their hearts
into the sweet ecstasy
of the golden mead.

Likewise, beloved,
in your shadow
I flutter, live, and grow,
your absence bewitching
my moth instinct
like a candle’s flame
as inside me you burn
into pure poetry.

A Life of Poetry

Let me serve you poetry
in spoons brimming with ecstasy.

Sinking into the darkness
deep behind your eyes,
the wells shall fill with light
and tears you will cry.

Quenching the thirst
of age old desire,
a sun like no other
on your face will flower,
and our dance will go on,
deepening and rising,
until poetry becomes
our life entire –
a silent breath,
an inner beat,
a star which flesh
is tender and sweet,
and which core is a dawn
no mind can envision,
and no words can touch or meet.

Free Verse # 111 (gazing in your halcyon eyes)

Hecatomb of lust,
night’s stars on our wild altar
doused in burning blood.


My hands over our face,
a tidal flow of stars.

My heart, a sun upon my lips,
kissed between your eyes.


The heart that knows the splendour of dawn
is blessed with a light no darkness can soil.


To consume and be consumed,
a desire so ravenous and pure
it delivers our trembling bodies
unto the burning altar of love.


As our lips merge our heart,
rooted in the garden of forever,
blooms into the sun.


Each poem,
a flick of tongue along your endless curves
smearing wine and honey and reaping — ecstasy.


Gazing in your halcyon eyes
a dawn so clear enters my soul
that I break into song.

I Harness You

With each curve of my pen
your desire falls wet and burning
upon the aching paper,
moaning and sighing poems,
serpentine limbs writhing and twirling,
uncontrollably exploding into stars
scattered in the empty heaven.

I harness you, love,
like the silent full moon
harnesses the stars
and writes them into the earth’s womb,
into the warm dreams of lovers.

I write you and harness you, my own.

Altar of Ecstasy

Love’s chills,
tender ripples of ecstasy
coursing underneath our skin,
harbingers of abandonment
in the burning mouth of stars.

The tree of white flowers
blossoms inside our merged bodies,
arching our backs and breaking our ribs
as it raises us to deliver us, headless,
to the altar of the sky.