Poetry
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What resides in the eye?It is first the whiteness, or the emptiness,It is next the universe, or the cycle,It is finally the blackness, in the center. For everything more than the knowledge we seek,Everything more than the creations we build,Is no more than a nothingness, when we recedeBack to the canvas. What of the darkness,…
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Love falls upwards Like convalescent, and reborn Unto the sunrise And receives God’s holy rays, like thunder from a chime Blown by the winds of sighs. I am still too much in love With her veins, With the silence where she danced To no music played. Still in love with the many smiles, once exhibited…
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The kiss was gentle Against her breast, Like under the whirling rush Of the current, Of the sigh, Against her cheek. She laid there for me, And in my faint recollection, I caught that the bed had immaculate white sheets Laid atop her flesh. She did not kiss back, Nor did she fan herself, from…
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Darkness is a brutal kindness In the coldest and warmest remembrances, Of each thing lapsed so far in the past, That I cannot tell What flavor are my tears. So much sheltered, Out of the cold, And so very bold When released, for me to see With eyes, ablaze On the only ever known cruelty.…
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She lurches forward to kiss Horrors into my scalp. Like one shadow let loose from lips buried In the redness of an apple, Plucked from the orchard to be bitten By how she encompasses Eve, as most sinister in shape. She follows wherever I travel, Where it be, in my mind or by my side,…
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I have not left the blue Of her tears. I only hold the shape close, Rectangular in form, and frivolous in its definition Of fate. I still deny The sentiment, Of what should be Left behind. In the moments I catch the raindrops That leave my eyes, I see where I splash, with my legs…
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Down in the deepest love In the deepest dark Of a heart, that has wildness attached, Within, and upon the deepest ache, Of an organ that does not cease Its unguarded rhythm. I feel, though I do not Wish to, Because the sun only feels as cold as it could be In the murky underlying…
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When winter has lullabies in bells and snow-showers, Summer will lure her in, like the scenery she comprehends not is warm Enough for her vacant and cold mind. Summer will allure her, Out of a state in wonderment, Lilies dressed on her garments, Petals dressed on her eyelids, Flower stems dressed on her fingertips, And…
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Over the mantle, where fewest feathers were laid, Like a softness I did not comprehend, Was the only one ever made. A breath was all it took to send each feather away From atop the mantle, put in place. I lost where the key went To her heart. I lost where the pain leapt From…
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That which she trusts, with me, All to known, only by me. For my loyalty breathes itself, over her veins, Over the stains, that cannot depart From her heart, in its place. What a history she has, For me to cherish, to feel with each fragment To her sullenness. All secrets, buried in a book,…
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Allow me to lick the tears Free from your cheeks. You have more to yourself, than the many years To the sadness in your sleep. I lay in opposite direction From you, And drink freely the falling rain, From your eyes. It is a bitterness, like a wine made from the Italian vineyard, But I…
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What will we take from the form?Will it be the breast, or the lips,Both of which we kiss with our mouths, our tongues?So much the infant, as a man,As I am,But, in flooding desire to see myself, whole again,As sickness, in miserable sin. For when I stare up at the lowered clouds,There is a spread…
Modern Romanticism 