Poems
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Night.Crawling. It is unboxing – the daylight you weather after – in the voicewhere you are sheltered. Rain comes downto cry for you.The sights. The afterthoughtfor what pours after the thought.During the multi-facetsin the intimaterhythm of the ultimate – rhymes, decorated in blue,after the stormcoated us in gray. And light. Vibrance in youwants to let…
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Off a cliff. Caughtadrift, on the slope,burning for the fuelthat poured into this love.Sad state. Running with blacktar, from eyes not looking back. You keep cryingfor the mile, behind us. Summer left us.Winter dresses youin white frost, a canvas.Black, running waterfrom your eyes that seenothingness in bothsides of a blurred coin. Gentlest touch.A finger to…
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Left around. Swung aroundthe table for the cards you left,in the gamble, the gameI remain to play.I pray for you to staydeep within, on the other sideof the playing field. Lost sight. A goal rushed.An avenue collapsed, to the cover-upthat fell short. We fell shortin our deceptions – for how often are we with selection?…
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Was it all? Waiting – while yousweep the floor, matching the color.Your burial in the bathroom.Hung of hair, bottled inteardrops, in segments of winter’s love.It forced you to deposit. Found youa different path into Heaven. But youalways rained from the ceilingwith your neck. Your neck is swinging.It is your throat I kissed.One more to the…
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Oncewhen we did displayour tears in the rain,our formstraced in the grain,blending gravity withour lonesome compulsions, – we drew our eyes apartfrom the dangerous road,holding ends as were rosesburned into sand,crisscrossed into hands. Nowwhen we are divergingfrom the path thatto our foresight, to ourweeping smiles, fading suns,we have much to move forthe moon to change…
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I haven’t lostthis memory of youthat blossomed in the blue.I haven’t walkedmiles, for nothingto keep me covered in moss. The stone who clings, – takes his eyes out,pulls himself apart,while time stands still,holding me close. I have not lostthe stain of yourselfin the soft moss. Rings are multiple in the tree,the age of everything alone,while…
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Up the ladder,holding the torch,waving light for a smilethat curves to a crescent,withers to the dark sidewhere light becomesevery blue shade. Symptoms of this.Flavors of your kiss,I reminisce, – while the curtains to the nightturn graywith the fog I’ve seendiscoloring your hair. Laid in the green,while I took a step apartfrom the scar, not the…
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For the infiniteknows no start to holda hand, on this sacred landwhere your lipswere the fine wine to tell mesecret words that werefolded in torn paper,a crippled heart. Just the end, to kiss youbeneath starlight and moonlight. Just the last momentwhere I lost it all;above your grave, absent of allI could not save. Just Heavento…
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Stripes painted silver,while those heated eyes in a riverbathe me, revive mewhile I meander in open thoughtson your presence.How many tears could we bleedat the end of the rope’s giver? Are you freeor am I,while the moon fadesinto another whimsical day?While our eyes became gray,faces stayed in rivers, idle in shades. All teardrops become stars,the…
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As I laywith wide eyes againstthe deadness, blanknessof a winter ceilingagainst the earthen nakedness,I recall thoseounces of teardropscaught at this mouth,from the stem that wiltedto bend them closer. Bring your voiceclose to mind.I am peeling my layersto hold you in the fog. Laying in death’s pain,healing in my dreams.I wait for your storm to come,to…
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Stay strongfor me, for whilethe tulips turn greywith the overcrossing twistof a storm that stings the eyes,there is still spring in yoursin the twin irisesthat bloom without the fadeof a cruel winter. While I love.While I give gracesto the massive spacesfar above,each teardrop will bedevoted to all the colored petalsthat accompany meon the hollow journeywith…
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Stir the eyes.Travel infroth, for idle bathing.Mask the senses inwith the memory of your kiss.I have receded from beingagainst the shore,where the sun came to meas a rose. I kept bleeding.I have kept backingfrom wall to wall.A child from a mother’s hip,scrawling senselesswording to blank spaces,timeless voidswhere you used to belong. I always wishedto rewrite…
Modern Romanticism 