The unspoken collage

Like the girl in
bed he watches
the years move
as slowly moves love

like the guy in bed
she watches
grown up into dreams
they escaped

like the girl in bed
he watches
both memories
senses and habit

like the guy in bed
she watches
the unspoken collage
the mysteries take
place

.

Teaching the sea to swim

Would flowers flower
without your love?
No, not all
no, not one

Beside the blazing
surplus of stars
struck a torch high over
midnight radiating elegantly
onto the Earth
teaching the sea
to swim

.

That something better mattered

You may hate mosaics
or wish not to want
to live as soft rolling lips
say it's a dream

that it's love too
to put worth on
and drop into a slotted
stone cosmos
that something better mattered

Not that some barbarous death
compares to that worth
in whose telling
anything can or can't be gained
as learning to do things from articles and
books alone

But when you're this much in love
it doesn't really matter if one is
better than the other because
it's like dying and It's hard to change
your mind when you're dead

.
.

A Tunnel Between Hearts

.
Wishes and dreams
draw breath from
deep beneath
the undulating shadows.

The phantom riders
of the surface see
alone themselves
while below
aquatic eyeless hearts
swim the ocean currents
drawn to each other
making their way
with water wings

.

The Way Backwards

After A few minutes I narrow
and I don't see me as clearly
am I some other construct?
a country or perhaps a mountain
or just the fascination of something from
five frames further
into the future

It's the small, slow successes
the art of what matters in matters
that supply the business of
breathing
and now I must go back into
myself reversed
,see you
past the into travel to way only the is this


.

Why is a hard word

I could call this
Cold Dark Of A Secret Dawn
but why would I?

Why is a hard word
one of the petrified order
that wrap themselves around us
and we ask them what's with this and
that when cornered they conveniently forget
the answer then forget to forget and
slowly losing back all but the surface
they answer in a glimpse or a shiver

I am trying in this division in this
moment-less space that leaves and stays
to say here as far as it's gotten to divinity
(who gets to what they want every time?)
to say the same secret I hope you have
but different and that there is that to
love even more than us

And I treat what I don't know here
with the hope of starting another
part of this beginning that always is
uncertain to go as far as to say
I've felt it and know it to be good

though air does not yet exist
this love still sticks beneath
my nails and I hope it's more
than just me


..

Why the moon stole from the sky

Her fire grew wings upon his heart
and he flew to the center of the sun
feathered in the fingers of her flames

And the moon saw
being here now the
same as love
and how we loved here too
and said as much
while wondering what went true together
And He sang

O  how my heart soars when her soul sings
and I feel the fiery heart of
her being,  Let the fingers of her flames dance upon my skin


and the sea believed what the sky saw
how the sunlit arc revealed
why the moon took the
sun from the sky

.
.

All the dreams but one

In words white as space
that sing never leaving
and crawl out from
beneath night's
deepest breath

a voice wide as space
dances light upon my heart
and wakes up
all the dreams

but one and none
so dear as
I walk beside her

.

Answering An Angel

.

Your

reflection

   is a gentle beauty...

a meditation

What is the world but the world?

.

We Became The Talk Of Space

 .

Days were forgotten

along with solidity

and we became the talk of space

whispers through the Galaxy

and
with no end to the beginning

a timeless remembering

of  flesh and bone

when the burning blood of our souls

ran as fire through our hearts

.


.

.

Fishing For Similes

I don't understand
the tops of letters
leaving me dry
as they fly by
as I preen my self
of their spikes and crowns
they call horns and pricks

that fall behind
like fading orgasms
yellowing in awareness
so
I'm going fishing for smiles
and as for me (whose
smiling leaves 
in finding the next thing)

I wondered why God
with her nouns, molecules
atoms and letters
all at the table
would hide in of all things
poetry

.
.

Slow Time

Watch silently as
slow time advances
to the click-clatt er click
of old age

Seasons strangely change
And man in his own right
was made to see the light light.

People in prisons
shouldn't throw chains.

.