An open grave of stars

The night turns off the sky

Releasing the world from the tangible

An open grave of stars buried in the galaxy

Sending their final thoughts to God 

And a city of dreams walks out of day jobs 

Taking books off the shelf, high wire acrobatics 

I thought I heard you in my silence, talking to me in dreams often now

Shadowed, grey, fast moving clouds swallow the moon, leaving yesterday 

Thunder like firecrackers breaks the quiet before the veins of lightning pulses through the sky pressing its holy finger on the beat of the night 

As our stillness transforms us:

Magic spells, the rain and a sliver of a red sun, the heart break of loneliness, the fallen shelter of sadness, the slow cool of music when you’re feeling It, the come down, the let down, the highs, the lows, the shaking, and the fears of failure, they turn on the faucet of silver speckled beams

Advertisements

The sadness crawls in his eyes, circles lamp posts tired. Chided by a dormant delicately scaled dragon, she named the past. Can you hear the moon light strands cry? Shatter, liquify, set the jeweled, midnight sheer transcendent.

Cosmic Sea

 
Lost, drifting glances.
As the pearls of her eyes came and went,
A café bar where we sat had begun to collapse, the old dream gone.
Now sitting beside this chair undoing.
Very little was left.

She sank into the cosmic sea.
As these auspicious moments let in a pregnant quiet.
Those brown pearls still glued to this memory.

The intimacies of the universe 

I climb to the edge

Into the speckled warlike wave of tea lights.

Alloy railings and spiral stairways

Angel headed day sleepers

Bearing wild teeth and forgotten memories.

A furnace of day dreams, bookends, cloves and cigarettes, incense,

Musings about almost anything just to break the doldrums, madness,

Strangers’ conversations, soft looming words at bedroom hours and

Spiral notebooks for secrets.

Her lips echo the here and now.

I have learned to covet my solitude

Although I am still alone.

She reads my mind and tells the birds on the wire to sing one last time.
Star-crossed lovers’ fate

Pouring over those fuchsia skies

Like astral beings

Wandering the hilltops

She unfolds her legs and howls

Longing for lost things in the daybreak

Of youth
As the tides recedes into the womb of the moon

I have become awaken by a labyrinth of fingertips

A cocoon slowing the pace of the day

Seeking shade from the loneliness

In an alcove of solitude

Steeped in memories she calls

I pray for your love to return to me

Only to think I may not pray for such things
Nostalgia is like a friend

Who doesn’t talk to you anymore

Seducing you from the present

Memories are delicate creatures

One must let go of the past in order to continue

Forward
Slivers of ancient golden suns

Circle the galaxy

Like cool waters and praying Bodhisattvas

Searching deep inside

Far into the distance of the heart
Where thoughts rest

She comes and goes.

Wild like the trees

Bearing down on me.

They brought madness to my door.

Like those pearls of her mind

Ebbing soft towards the shore.

And as a river runs through my hands

I began to understand;

The intimacies of the universe.

Hilltop Wanderers

Summer’s entanglement

Pouring over those fuchsia skies

Like astral beings

Wandering the hilltops

She unfolds her legs and howls

Longing for lost things in the daybreak

Of youth

Slivers of ancient golden suns

Circle the galaxy

Like cool waters and praying Buddhas

Searching deep inside

Far into the distance of the heart

Oceans of golden light

Chasing horses from the coastline

Of our yesterday

I’ll be sure to mention you

As the tide recedes into the womb of the moon

I run with wolves

Seeking shade from the loneliness

In an alcove of solitude

Steeped in memories she calls

I pray for your love to return to me

Only to think I may not pray for such things

Nostalgia is like a friend

Who doesn’t talk to you anymore

Seducing you from the present

Memories are delicate creatures

One must let go of the past in order to continue

Forward

Butterflies in Bloom Tell me in your Room

My body said:

Blue epiphany

And a coiled storm

Fled to the nightfall

All worked up about our meeting

Purring on a shelf

And a child fence for her dog

Washing down her spine onto her thighs

Each finger a labyrinth of feeling

Every nuance a library of erotic words

Glued to your television until my hands are down her thighs

I turn my eyes down

Where your fingers elongate over mine

The thought of you heats my skin many days over

Your cat talks to me while I go down your shirt

And your basement apartment follows me home

Driving blind

Fixation on art; the other side of the gate

An armed fortress. Scaling walls deterring real-ness. Blindness. Empires of fallen. Colonialization of the mind. Debased. Nullifying the the fractures of tesla mind fragments. Tectonic plates of consciousness beating out from the wings of this moth like creature. Television doom. A drift a headset warfare. Reveling in the exhausted. What chance was there when the downcast commentary funneled through sort of anti mystic trance. Combing the stream for the indelible marks there are strangle marks on the narrowed neck, outstretched open to display. I wonder about this strange segment of outer worldliness. A midst those arced leaves of falling. Though they beg for a new hand at the forefront.