she left his skin on fire
words tumbled out
in a skeletal gasping wish
now won’t you have a little
something before you go?
when he could clutch her no longer
his hands now insensate to her flesh
he took his penitent leave
she looked out at the parched rain
until the despondent damp avenue
expunged all truth and willingness
from her tortured affected features
and though she had considered
the mingy number of his talents
she recognized his abstract worth
in the masculine declination
she stared at him
as if there was nothing else to look at
when they had been together a month or so
he finally wanted to know more about her
he did not know how to touch her
or even how to desire such expertise
immense sadness engulfed her
the silent expanse between words and whispers
she found another rife with lustrous gestures
could pretend that there was love in his eyes
last chance to be observed measured desired
before her contents were judged by their cover
must open now delicate flower the bitter taste of her
progress was slow their hands prancing like puppeteers
her body as canonized sculpture his lips trembling
she left him against the wall saturated in exultation
I sit in my room
Watching the flowers
Bloom and become
Something more beautiful
Than what you saw as a
Little bud
And I still sit
And watch
The snow slowly
Falling down
Like the world
Is being sprinkled
Simply with sparkles
Some people
Say
That the world around them
May be old is what we don't prefer to be called,
But have you wonder -
How we love to rejoice calling our friendship, love, relations old.
May be we are older that we thought
Or may be we are younger than we thought
And betweens the may be...s
We don't have ages...
We only have moments.
A simple speck of dust,
Puzzling at first,
Resting where it lands.
A simple particle of nothing
Free from this world's bidding,
Free from existance itself.
A being needing caress,
His reflection none the less,
Yet not one of his own.
Admiring pure simplicity,
Blinded with duplicity,
Thoughts of envy settle.
Lack of vision to see,
What he desires to be
Resides within himself.
drip scrub sit
a wet coalescence of my soul
gangly, confined, soap lid
shampoo on my nose
My mind is loudest in that white space
Time seems to wait for me outside
I like the noise
But all things end
even my hour long showers
precious to me
I have no greater possession
they treasure me
yet sometimes they're a weapon
arguments
hormones
eruption.
Things happen
it is what it is
One morning I went fishing
The sun sparkled against the waves
Why
Why did I go fishing
I wonder
On Monday I turned an hour glass upside down,
On Tuesday I sailed to the south west of Japan,
Wednesday came and I was exploring a new town,
By Thursday I had learned about the quran,
Friday introduced winter so I sat with a frown.
On Saturday my son started crawling,
On Sunday the sand was still falling.
Skies don't lie but,
Wind blows clouds and,
Clouds change shape so,
Skies do lie when,
We exhale so,
Keep your water,
Inside your sea.
Sit outside
The waves come abruptly
You don't go and run
You sit
While others are crying tears of fear
You sit there
Calm, my dear
You sit and you sit
Waiting for the waves
They overtake you
A smile on your face
The lesser of 2 evils
The wave overtakes
No fear no more
Waves knocking at the door
Silence is a language
between sea and shore
the tide awash with memories
of rusted wrecks in foreign fjords
Silence is a language
between snow and ice
blanketing the spawning ground
never the same way twice
Silence is a language
between the crossing and the bridge
mirroring to fathom
what lies beyond the next ridge
Silence is a language
between the landscape and horizon
every corner every curve
traced by deeper passion