Month: December 2015

1. I love you when your voice drifts into my sleep

larger than the centurial dust that we keep 

between us

on smokescree nights like these

–

when we lie so near 

yet so distant 

from each other’s reason

–

and the love we fling to the wind 

reminds us each of a child 

who tries to feed a pigeon

with the crumbs of thrown stones

–

but stuns what they set out to hold,

with the hurt that casts over 

the others intention 

like the body and skin 

concealing what we will never own
–
2. I love you when the touch of your mind pools

in the warmth of your blood 

and you remember again 

the euphony of our disparate heart

–

so I might think 

that you only let the window

to the universe of this glass house 

called love, open the blink of its curtains

–

only if we part, 

–

where our love is a foundling 

foundering in the sea of us

–

and from there 

you look back at me 

with eyes licking the brine of my fears

with hands brushing so evanescent 

along the locks of my mind

–

that the color of sense 

is any tsinginingini thing 

splaying Into everything 

–

for a defenseless second

–

when I feel the presence of our love 

in all you have forgotten 
–
3. I love you in the mornings when I lie asleep

under the papyrus reeds 

and you gaze into me so fiercely 

that the lines buried in my face loosen             

into the oasis of your lips

–

I wake up then

when we remember 

the dune grass dance of love

–

whispering through the tendrils 

that curl outward around us 

–

listen or you will lose me 

sun slap green, 
worn, on his corduroys

as they flap listless

like sleeves of the missing

limbs of a scarecrow 

–
draped on the monocle, 

the wheel of his barrow

–

tapping red flip flops, 

catch on his tongue 

like thoughts un handled 

by the rupture of words,

–

bones no longer own.

.

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the glow worm of his pupil
alights in the constant dark of day

Rain bird –

carry words

like bags

you keep

under your eyes

–

weight is light-

–

air feathering    

itself in rain,

pressed

to mist 

upon your face,

–

knowledge 

is colorless 

–

if not your own,

–

a chiasmus

longer than scope,

–

the swallow of the horizon

is the dip of the universe

behind your eye

–

oh petrichor cosmos

–

stumble, choke, 

carry forth

–

mind from earth.

–

sound scent the rain,

upon each leaf cascade

–

unwrap infinite, this gift

like the promise bearing breath 

from the ellipsis of dream 

–

as I still the song of the rain bird 

to let it live

House no.4
1. Thirty year labyrinth 

–

yes, you have never left, 

–

waiting like footstep

stuck in a sand sketch,

cleft by the driftwood 

of childhood.

–
You taper stretched 

this lifetime 

–

a map of me,

the intricacy of your veins

draws me like a delta,

–

silversand drowned 

in seedling memory,

fig fleshing an orchard 

from the silt of a sewer

–

apple mango, cherrypear avocado, 

papaya passion, guava          colors

–

that curl in us

the tendrils of our language
–
2 Tonight, where we forget 

ourselves,

and the soft spoken bandage

of our love, 

the happiness denied

comes alive,

clattering 

the teeth of the sublime

in the cat-licking blink of the tide

–

Where you are you .3

–

is where we are free 

from the yearly limbo 

tracing the solstice’s step,

made and unmade,

–

ruffled like the covers

of the jugular tide

–

but you awoke today,

stayed in your own skin

long enough 

to break me from mine

–

and the bloodthicken 

tears that balance me so near 

the drain of the sea 

–

have grown me 

the orchestra of a flower,

–

purple white passion, 

–

the infinite lip of oblivion.

tear drops or the candle’s flame

–

1 dew drop

embody the ocean

–

where you cannot

follow the motion

–

trace the rain 

pit pat

patterning 

mabati 

morning 

–

dropping 

–

on the mind

–

like pauses

–

coiled 

in the insomnia

stars will bring 

–

2 language 

lay inert

–

tomorrow speaks 

today 

as it has done 

yesterday,
this 

is the moment 

–

weighted on

a pendulum 

–

the horizon

–

but a blink

trickling 

–

nectar dream
lucidity

in sap stream eyes

–

3 experience 

the tsavorite transience

of the paradigm sky 

–

sounds fluttering  

behind the blind 

white eye 

–

Dream totems

on the tonal presence 

strangling the undergrowth 

of what you see

–

you are as mad 

as reflection 

as truth

–
perceive 

–

again, 

–

begin

–

in escape .4

–

hypnotize sense

–

revolving 

the mind 

of light

 

–

yes,

emotion.

–

my home.