I understand your discomfiture;
you have seen into my soul
as is fitting, as is right,
and exposed its bright diamond
The gleam has caught your eye
and the scent of sad caution
struck you silly,
just like a virgin on holiday
or a rosebud in the rain
Freedom is calling us...
I know when I reach for your hand
that true love has awakened
and will not find rest
The djinn that is our joining
will move the earth underfoot...
so speak not of the sweet grip of illusions.
Into the breach we are taken
and even our fondest wishes lead us astray.
Bird of Paradise
Yellow feathers for the sweet of sun,
green feathers for the curl of leaf,
blue feathers, dark and light,
red feathers in anger at scorn,
purple feathers for royalty born,
and orange feathers in a mix of passions.
Love is a bird of paradise,
love is a coat never worn.
I carry this feather for you to see...
will it be one you will value?
Can you see the softness of its fiber,
the color of its uniqueness and beauty?
I am a man who wants to give love,
I am a man who wants love in return...
am I to royalty, a beggar and thief?
Or beggars and thieves, royalty all?
I am the man who stole from the heart,
I am the beggar who walked that mile.
Estate (w. Sophi Zimmerman)
Walking back along the beach,
a shell I had overlooked...
I picked it up and felt it in my hand.
It was nearly perfect,
just one small chip
where the mouth and the end met
Pearly blacks and grays nested
in the bowl, little mirrors of ocean
and time
Quiet pictures, smooth and slippery
like sea water
She would like this one,
this forgotten home
with its small story
like a Grecian urn
or a sculpture...
she had always said
shells are like little sculptures
She wove stories about them
Tales of life washed ashore
Sometimes a song would find its
way into her mouth
People would buy them
the shells with the stories
The songs were for free, she'd say
Songs of the sea and stories of the sand
while the wizard of the salt wind
watched and clucked
as I wrapped the shell
so it would not break,
stealing one of his few possessions
This small piece of marine
real estate was her house
I knew that somehow.
She lived here
Her wild song flowed in my thoughts
over thousands of grains of silica
drifted in memory and music
On the Wildness of Love
Once that furious storm, unleashed
has sent you scampering to shelter
and your mousy prudence
has made a home in dry straw...
once that lion has been released
and will not go back in his cage...
once mother nature has undressed
and whispered her secret lust...
then you will know your small protests
were but raindrops in the tempest.
You who would understand love
understands it not in the slightest.
The fire burns you through to your soul
and your cries are answered in the night
by one shy pussycat, no brave fireman
as the flames are fanned by the howling winds...
One Morning
Elegant lace birds
drawing sun-up's sweetness
from the morning air...
the moon is down, you see,
they joke.
The dawn is studying
a passage from their melody
and grows glad
as their words grow lighter
and float upward,
you know.
A blue more buoyant
with each passing moment
I see
fills the deep sky,
or so we should presume.
Dark green leafy dew
joining tips of grass
spills the secrets of the equinox
into the quiet drink
of sparrows
The Ferment
We had dined with the blue jays
on a handful of scattered corn
thrown out by the farmer's wife
who had known our morning cries
She with her rays of sunlight
and me with my stories of rain,
we had struck the forest floor
with the dappled pattern of nascency
Our mingling a bold conspiracy
of roots and deep passions
that seep into the earth,
persuading us of leafing
You who know the quiet mystery!
Come bear witness to cool autumn
where greens transpose to golden
and surrender finds its nesting
Enchanted sprite of spring,
return to your hollow
Leave your wand by the creek bed
from which I draw my water
With that warm, white magic
we may spin a cloth of rainbows
and as winter bites her lip,
stitch a scarf of bright dreams
A Mouse's Love
How I remember that small, tender kiss
she gave me, as I was her furry sweet.
I wish I could be there, again at her whisker,
for the sharing of gnawed delights.
In our hole in dry wall, enfolded,
I whispered a padding for sweet love...
scraps of pillow laid out warm and soft
against the draft of cracked shingles.
My, oh, pie crumbs kept off the table
by children eager to squeak as her,
and her bright eyed sniffling to the light
as, leading, I snuck from the baseboard.
Trick me not, memories of her kisses,
nose to nose, in that matter of timely musk.
As we dither to the music of snoring
and shake quick abandon to scavenging...
...a simple warm and pink feeling
lifts our ears, sweetly and keen,
to many a friend, still caught in whimpers
of our own darting to and fro the quiet.
In a Spirit, Twice
When you catch fire,
and the song burns in your breast,
and the pull of spring's call
takes you so close to the shine of dawning
that hot sparks jump from your fingertips;
you will pulse with the rhythms so sweet
that your heart will leap into flames...
When your heart is burning white and high,
when kisses have become as doves in flight,
when you are hopelessly tangled up in love...
the golden of the amber will capture the fly,
and that drink of water that you have become
will feel to the thirst of someone you know,
as the finest of the sweetest of wines...
you will swoon, next to a moment of sun,
and your face alit with buttery light.
When kindnesses stir and flutter in your breast,
and surely as wind, you take that one step.
..
when your eyes glow bright with dreams untold,
and a love unfolds in the tawny musk of ecstasy,
you will feel, in a dusk, a budding day;
you will know, right then, a magic twice,
and your embrace to him as his to yours.
The Pull of the Equinox
This fire that burns in my breast
will not quiet with your gentle touch,
but will only grow brighter
as your caresses wine my senses.
I am stripped naked by your smiles...
and I stand, lit with your lovely sun,
to your eyes, a spark of hot flame,
linked with your soul behind the fond gazes.
I find with my sweetest kisses
a soft and sensitive, fleecy moment
where a pretty lust sings her song
lifting my heart, expressing my need...
and though a rabbit, love has been,
fast away on a forest path,
it is now a gentle fawning deer
drinking water from the bubbling brook.
Know me inside, feel my honesty,
touch where I see and admire you,
and where I wish so fondly for your touch.
It is true, it is all true, see me there.
You, my deepest well, you my warm lamp...
I see by your light, draw water from your pail.
You, who knows how my dreams sparkle
with the warmth and the wetness of your spring.
Without
Did you wait?
For you one and only?
For a heart that was so true?
For a waiting man?
Is too much compromise
something you know about?
Did you believe?
Did you cry in your pillow?
Did love happen too fast?
Did you face reality?
Did he promise the world?
Were your dreams shattered?
Did you know the truth?
Did you call his name?
In the dark lonely night?
A name you made up?
Did one heart cry out?
For a lover, for a friend?
For a man not taken in
by all the rest?
Of a Sweet Moment
All your old men,
put together,
can't explain it away...
all your old women
can't nag me enough
to keep me from it.
I hold it to my breast,
and coo to it softly,
willing it sleep.
The warm fire burns
in the ashes of my heart.
Words of pressing need
spill onto your lap;
I am a clumsy waiter.
Nearness of hot kisses
a companion to my wishes...
and a small patch of sky
that the sun broke,
seeds a score of shadows...
scampers, to the task.
Under lock and key,
a note from fine crystal.
She is close at hand
singing her long grief...
and the hours fall like leaves.
At the chill of morning
comes the yearning for the easy days...
and after awhile the rest awaken.
As My Hunger Grew
Looking, I thought, for a humble meal
to soothe my hunger, and tired and worn,
I found a diamond I could not steal.
I know my coffin, stamped with a seal,
that I'm buried in, if forever torn...
looking, I thought, for a humble meal.
Protected by guards with dogs at their heel...
kept as a secret, caged and forlorn...
I found a diamond I could not steal.
Do even I know if I see and feel?
And, where is the difference in halo or horn?
Looking, I thought, for a humble meal.
Precious, and rare, and bright, and real,
I have wondered where since the day I was born,
I would find a diamond I could not steal.
Like a frightened mother and her sad appeal,
like a scarecrow watching over feather and corn...
looking, I thought, for a humble meal,
I found a diamond I could not steal.
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