Oh No

Trapped in the web work of hope and loss

Her pain is my pain

The butterflies of juxtaposition

Dove tail night and day

I fear the smile of hope is being submerged

In the shadow of despair

There are so many losses on this battlefield

There is so much injury here

If I could rain flower pedals

To pillow and buffer her

I would

Her pain is my pain

There is still hope nested at the corner of her smile

Please pull the web work down

Foreground doesn't have too be defined by background

Image and context are separable

Tears don't have to define the day

Her pain is my pain

Absorbed in the Moon Light

Harmonica in the moon light
Silhouettes against the blue satin night
White splashing light on the ocean

The lover swings above it all

Waiting for her desired
She is full as I am empty

My unity is else where

My transcendence

Is into the wind in the grass

My trail is solitary and unifying at the same time

Yet I miss the skirt

On the swing

A Voyeur's Embarrassment

There was something wrong with the tango
The turquoise passionate kicks black lit
By the violet electricity of her skirt
Accommodate the thrust of the dance
Yet the purse of her lips flexed tightly
I sat in a pose of remorse
I drank her succulent lips with my mind's eye
Most strangely her lips at that moment
Became wedded to his
My gaze a voyeur's embarrassment extracted itself
Light on violet and turquoise cascaded in ever
Refined gradated harmonies of love
This beauty was besides itself
I was on the other end of the kaleidoscope
I could see this beauty belonged to the universe

Branches Above

Is anyone ever allowed to live

In the silhouetted grey night sky
Those of us who inhabit the darkness
On the branches of leafless trees
We wonder if you will leave us alone

The night winds blow through our feathers
Never have you asked if we are cold
You fools we don't have extra blankets
In the middle of the night
All we have are the deserts of unrequited justice

Once in a while the naive evoke angry screams from us
We caw screams of stupidity
We caw warning
Their cavalier blackens the night further
Do they expect me to share my insects with them

Authentic Morning

I had an authentic morning

It was one of those moments

When I knew who was watching my life

I caressed the flowers on the table

I had no idea what they were

I knew of their beauty

But my mind spun in the vortex of their context

The colors were so indistinguishable and yet iridescent

What is this lack of definition

Yes I exist in this performance art

Yes I am part and parcel

Our fragrance is pungent with satiation

In Between

The errant flourishes of hair laid across her face
Without her knowledge or acquiescence
Was she asleep or in bliss that she didn't
Notice this intrusion
Her silhouetted head was buoyed in the atmosphere
By the effervesce of being
It was clear there was no beyond or residue
It was as if the sun on her face was enough
I was here with her
I had no relationship with her
I was merely one of the strands of hair that webbed her face
I could feel the sun heated satin of her skin

Artichoke Rose Pedals

The artichokes rose pedals weighty with meat

Needed to be peeled away from her body

The fingernails struck the tap plate of the flamenco guitar

Her crucifix hung between breasts draped in red cloth

She kicked up the hem of her red skirt

Her red shoes echoed of hammered wood

The guitars rasquedo strum fired her passions

I could feel pedals pulling away the exterior of her heart

With an impassioned demand of her castanets

She made clear she was offering her pristine soul

I inhaled deeply of her rose fragrance

To squelch the fire I needed another glass of Cabernet

Servant Eyes

Bending over backwards with grace
Arms were poetic asymmetry

Hands and fingers integral

In the aesthetic of flex

Her breasts firm and full

Reaching into the fingers of the sun

Her long flaxen hair merging

With the sun eating field

It is clear she lives for the poppies

Sometimes I wish I had

More than seeing eyes

Yet I remain the universe's servant

Sarcophagus of my Heart

Chords were thrown off the piano almost like they didn't count

To count and multiply were their nature

Trumpet sounding of tin threaded the dying peach flowers of love

Armor of bronze mist was now the sarcophagus of my heart

Life without love is the absence of music

Rhythms need to float on the winds of my mind

I need to swim to the surface of the strings of my heart

I need to taste the cacophony of love music

I need just a small rift woven into my existence

Perhaps I could live a little longer if I could hear your moan

But who am I kidding

I really do need the whole symphony

The Warble

The warble ended in a flourish of hysterical giggle

Beauty has that effect for some

For others beauty is a graduated ascension from

Crystalline gentleness to ravenous demand

These feelings were in place before there was something

Summative powers of consumption

Define the undefinable

Before what is became was

The blues and grays of the universe

Exist in my being

Iridescent understanding fires when

I experience what is

Crying Orchids

I have become one of those with sad eyes

Eyes which you can see the depth of forever

Eyes with morose irises flaking from our souls

Eyes that reflect the shattering of lost love

In between now and then

Sunsets evoke only sadness

Dissonance dwarfs harmony

Absence trumps presence

In the end our eyes roll into our brains

Tears that submerged us into the murk of the abyss

Cry orchids into our souls

Orchid tears that hope for cessation

Fading Gently into the Night

The snow was deafening in its quiet

My mukluks squeaked in the snow

Under my tuque

My breath filled my fur lined parka

I felt the ice drip from my beard

The night was white in the moon's radiance

There was nothing else

There was no path

Nothing
I existed in this sea of bone chilling cold
I was even without her love

The fire had been taken from my heart
I remember all those decades back
The hours of prayer from my cell mate's lips
I remember his hanging body in the morning

I Love Being Your Eyes

Awakening to the cascading flowers
Of the shade and sun
Orange and red poppies
Danced away from the white baby's breath
Ballerinas ever so gently moving their arms
The smiles come quickly to their faces

And I knew they knew they were

About to explode into grace

The toes arched

The legs scissor through the air

Can they know how beautiful they are

I think they know

How is it I didn't know for so long
I rip my shirt open

I thrust my bare chest to the sun

I look to the heavens

I whisper softly in your ear

You created this

And I love being your eyes

I Still Have Her Love Poem

For the briefest second

The hummingbird drank from the nectar in my heart

The roses in my blood fed her with my nurture

The puncture wounds remain

I think she tasted

Of my strength

I was no Peter Pan

Like Odysseus I was not vulnerable to Circes

As her feeding tube extracted itself

I felt the burning pain in my heart

As long as I had my dream

Of Penelope the cherry blossoms

were the right poultice

And this Colors Meaning

Blue frosted glass perfect in its imperfection

Full and concaved in its polarity

The shadow of a stem bowed by a yellow

Giant toothy grin

On the face of joy
Lives here

A sunny summer rain caressing my face

Cleansing and clarifying

This all against a backdrop of rose and amber

And the light of existence

There are whipping chords of sensuousness

And this colors meaning

And I love this day

Star Fish in the Tide Pool

The tide was out at sunset

The residue was quiescent afterglow

The ocean didn't ripple

The winds didn't blow

It was a time after the crescendo

I hadn't been here for that

But the star fish at my feet

Half submerged clutched the sandy wet shore

still

I wondered if this muscle machine was now relaxed

I know its flesh was blanketed in the

Twilight purple sunset

I wanted to ask what it feels like

To live between the rise and the subside

The sun dropped beyond the horizon

And I could see the last dregs of blue sky

So Many Silhouettes

Laid across my cornea are the reflections

Of existence

I am all if it

I am the sun, the tree, the panther,

The golden gradient of permeating hues,

Flooding my retina

To my light sensitive pineal gland

My being explodes with the

Melding of ever increasing

Procreation of color

Intensity

All of my cells are oxygenated

With the reverberation

Of this love

How glorious it is to be alive

In this moment

Reaching Out

With compassionate tentacles of understanding

Buffered with the satin sheen of connection

There's a delicacy of web work

That permeates my existence

Where the sun meets the horizon there is an

Ever changing golden hue mirroring

Of this merge

When the force of the ocean

Washes the tide to beach fall back

The connection is trumpeted

With rapturous sound

There is a wedding that occurs

Defined by gentleness of colors and textures

There is a harmony and balance here

That fills my soul with

The helium of effervesce

Burnt Red Blood

Looking across the field

The white flowers sparkle with hope

Against the burnt grasses of summer

Church bells ring in the distance

The kettle drum of my heart

Thunderously jumps out of my chest

The oboes prick my anxiety

I can hear the grass rustle

As my feet path the field

Such disparity

And yet such symmetry

I wonder if someday soon

My burnt red blood will enter

The soil here and pigment

The radiance

And it Doesn't Matter

Is that a furtive glance

Down the corridors of time I am transfixed

Your eyes seduce me

I float into an enveloping consciousness

There are eddies and whirl pools in this stream

My passion is keeping me afloat

Where are you taking me

And it doesn't matter

All I can see is this beauty

Violins and French horns

Backdrop singing of indefinable words

The turns and curves are increasingly gentle

This ecstasy is either death or love

And it doesn't matter

The Love of the Moment

The water in the pond is enveloping my body
I am naked as I crouch down in its shallowness

The staffs of water reeds imprison and constrain

I am aware that my nestle has broken the harmony

I can hear the mortality in the sounds and durations
of the chirping birds

I lay my face on the pond's satin caress

The water moves to the edge of my serene lips

Above the surface

The sun massages me to the love of the

Moment

Nothing Less Than Love

Flower petals blotted the tears in the pond

Yet the tear drops continue to explode and ripple

Against the gun metal blue reflection

It's as if the red and white pedals knew of the demand of hope

There is such a demand in my heart

Yet the gun metal despair is in tsunami

It's all so out of focus

But every once in a while

There is a blinding contextual petal blast of iridescence

For a moment I thought the tears might be my own

But then I knew

The tears were from universal compassion

And the velvet petals nothing less than love