Reciting Neruda

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The sea at Batroun on April 12, 2015

Reciting poetry as the sea goes on singing, careless, eternal, folding me under its waves like a creature made of salt dissolving into the eternal womb that shaped him. Maybe tomorrow I’ll find myself flung amid the sunlit curves of a woman, seashells bloomed into white flowers, sipping at her pores; or I’ll be a string of pearls rocking against her warm breasts, adorning them as dewdrops made of milk, the froth of the sea; or I’ll be a dash of salt etching into her skin the restless tears burning in the belly of the sea. Alike, for now my bones melt, and this song that I am is thrashed into oblivion under the hammering waves of the infinite monster, this beautiful blue beast.

Free Verse # 204 (the language of her eyes)

The flame I drink consumes me whole
Leaving nothing of flesh and soul

~

What is poetry if not the language of her eyes?

~

In the solitude of my soul I seek you,
A silent presence embracing the whole sky.

~

Her every silence a flower that blooms in his heart.

~

He touched her
and her skin became
the radiant sea
where all the stars
come down to drink
then shine in the nightsky

~

Her face between his palms quivered like a lake reflecting night’s endless stars.

~

Under my skin
I feel you,
murmuring as a stream
hidden in the night.

~

A rumbling volcano
lives inside of me
rooted, like a tree,
in the womb of your sky,
the dawn of your eyes.