How should we be,
In these gardens
Of starlight vines
And blooms of memory?
Is ours the music
In the tip-toe
Of times fragrance?
…our kiss the question
Of when childhoods
Last spoke?
We are,
As the Sun and Moon
Nesting in our eyes,
Careless…
I could not speak,
So I dipped my soul in ink.
I could not feel,
So I hunted throughout
The land of music.
I could not see,
So I prayed
Within the deepest temples
Of Gods gardens.
Like so I listened
To my rose,
From a thousand miles away.
The wind I had felt was by no mistake,
Yet you lay on me, as a rose petal
Would drift down the Tigris night
Upon milky waters,
Between the forgotten seasons;
Where the spirit is intoxicated in divine limbo.
And I beg the sun to lose my self through the sky,
A thousand droplets, a thousand prayers,
A thousand pages, a thousand doves
To keep you aloft?
This is how I blushed upon your cheek
Naked before the world.
Between the banks of an ancient Song,
Where poets lost themselves,
She drowned in me.
Now I rage, rage against time,
To carve a canyon where humanity will
Lose itself!
How will you shout
Through my encompassing emptiness?
Match my dust with tears and prove me wrong!
Oh to be once again
A seam in the sand…
At the mercy of morning dew.
Shout and sing from the depths
Of my empty tomb.
Only a stranger can feel
And call upon this past to ruin.
How many generations do I call forth?
How many will then dig for truth?
You begged for me the sun
And the heavens conspired
For a breath.
Love, hate, everything.
We are, through ourselves,
Faithfully through
Another.
songbirds heard
over warehouse fans…
unwelcome visitors
and we sing
we drink
love
and shiver in snow.
there was shame
where songbirds
needn’t know.
We slept in a white boat,
Beneath a moon
That spanned the sky.
Two children,
Whispering dreams,
Floating, by and by
the letters of my language
dipped in your lipstick
how a spirit is lost
in woodlands of your hair
a soul can not abandon
the temple of its birth
How many pilgrims
are lost for your skin?
