The Fuse

There is ephemeral haze
In the pastels
I want to
Lay you down
In the softness
Of the ill defined
Flowers of gentle passion

This is a time
Of floating butterflys
And gentle breezes
I see warmth
In your Brazilian eyes
There is rhythm in your breath
There is gentle heave in your breast

My lips nibble your neck
I close my eyes
I lie in your embrace
I awake in your absence
I'm startled awake
I am lying in pastel flowers
You exist only in my dreams

There Is Music Here

Seed pods connected to sprigs
Rattling tambourines
Rain morphing into germination
Flowers ravenously drinking the sun
Copiously demanding into the canopy
Losing identity
Blended into color spectrum

One sense experienced as two
One real the other not
The fog of the fuse
Walking down the street
Color consciousness painting
Enlivening the world
With the brush of sound

Rain drops of color
Hues of music

A lullaby or nightmare
I live in reassured normalcy
Where do you live
The odd or the enlivened
Are you threatened or intrigued

Running In The Grass

Galloping, muscles, tendons
Single minded purpose
Breathing hard autonomy
Living in the moment
There is no future
No past
There is only me
Now

I am not going anywhere
My purpose is the fire of existence
My hooves are explosive
Against the ground
They beat the rhythm
There is a hoof beat
Back drop
There is a harmony in the grass

I slow to a tension reducing prance
I lift my legs high
To stretch my muscles
But I'm aware of the aesthetics
Of my power
And the grace of my presence
I walk in my strut
We are focus on harmony

Rope To God

We are on the strings of a marionette
If you don't think so
Just walk into the whirl wind
Take the elevator up
So what if there is no exit button
Either you're ready or not
Either you surge into ethereal or not

Am I that cavalier
Do I live in the realm of parasuicide
Are there reasons to risk it all

Am I obsessed with risk
Would I step into the whirl
Without knowledge of destination
Perhaps I would

I know a warrior's blood lust
I've been down that path
I've already crossed over
Those of you who have walked
This path with me
Know that which I speak
We wait to spiral into God

Together And Yet Apart

When parts of the whole
Live in separation

When they communicate
In the space between
When they send love notes
In the wind
When the currents sequentially

Brake

Missing solidity
Feeling the liquid froth
Between book ends

Waiting bones

Wanting the pulse
To irrigate to enliven
Wanting more than the no
More

What if the truth
Is greater than the dream
What if you can't go back
What if you can't
Recapitulate
What if there is no more blood
In the stone
Empty

We've Rippled Into The Dream

Flesh in the open

Unadulterated by textures
Pleasant or unpleasant
Pristine, natural, naked
Why does bonding
Like this make for
Unity of aesthetic love
Soft satin epidermis

I love it when you nuzzle
The white hair sprouting
From my chest
Wild in the field
Brushed with a gentle
Afternoon breeze
I feel your face slither
I feel

I feel anticipatory hunger
As I feel your nipples
Dragging through the field
Of white hair

I close my eyes
I hear you whisper softly
"I love you"
I feel the breeze of the ethereal

Perpendicular Life

Things meld with design
For a long time
I would notice the odd
Really, the exception
I would stare
I would wake with
The snap of consciousness

Then I became cocooned
In a web work of webbing
I could feel the spray of
Liquid sticky silk
Really, a kind steel
I was no longer at
Loose ends

Who would have thought
God was an arachnid
I could feel the fangs

Of existence
Drink the blood of life
Really, redistributing it
Life in the transcendental