It is there I see you — my dreams drown in my throat.
Without a note, your sound so final birds fly away.
I am worried. But you say not to be.
And the stars haven’t shone since you left.
I love you against night and summer,
against light and quiet,
against the stuttering sea
as September’s lips express themselves
through an invincible smoke of death,
I love you with happiness
roaming rift within my flight.
In your absence I’ve learnt so much;
I listen to time, where surprises sustain
with the language of kindness.
I know smiles that once existed
within these walls cannot be replaced.
At length in dazzling daydreams you watch me,
we face each other in restraint.
Still my bones live within light
over the gradual loss of decades,
because you won’t turn your eyes to look away
from the underworld of ravings and calculations.
These are dreams of blue sorcery’s pain
and men who hover in silent absence in the pantheon.
In the morning I’ll say I looked at the night
while you noticed my foreign body
and submitted two curious dreams to contact the wind.
Within his heart lies a demimonde spirit awaiting release.
Never in the right place, his soul is an asylum
which needs to be reborn.
When he flies high
surely there is a grand hard landing.
Where abomination’s art flies from canvases
leaving dark rites of rituals spreading
through the room.
One can never bare their soul completely:
So, she lights the gray away with candles
saying prayers for transgressions,
pledging allegiance to the sparkling oranges
growing on shelves in cylindrical swirls
of the bitter and sweet.
Hoping for the day when she can be herself
for those she loves.
Only love and pain
have dust remaining on this mystery.
It’s a young woman’s song;
prepubescent and concentrated.
The poet delivers
an intimate universal feeling,
I understand it
when I look at the
greenery of the mountainside,
and happiness wraps itself around me.
There’s bliss within the sounding sun;
flamboyant, flared, falling,
pointing toward an appetite for living.
Though at times jumbled
and tired, I continue with love
for being alive,
at last I can fly.
There’s always a light surrounding me,
a shimmer of life which I receive
with passion and pleasure.
A magic that resides in living
through this beautiful hum.
While passing a stranger on
a narrow walkway. We smile
saying hello, thriving within different
special spaces. Each our own
yet somehow we are one.
I’m thankful for every breath I’m given,
for the sunrise I’m gifted with.
Words spoken to me
by family and friends — reassuring,
this is mine and I cherish it.
If you touch another person’s hand
and your heart explodes eclipsing
into a million stars. Take heed:
they’re part of you
They are the sun upon you when
first waking and the rain that cools
and quenches your face and throat.
If you look in a friend’s eyes
and feel their pain. Take heed:
they need your love, give them honesty
and hold them tight
They are the wind on your skin while
walking alone down the street,
and the enveloping dreams of night.
In the shadowy hallways of life
exists a beautiful light meant to be honoured.
Hold on to this, like today’s kiss on the cheek.
I approach doorways in dreams,
but they never open, because keys
crumble in my hand.
I’m a grain so misunderstood,
in single lines on a hard surface,
where my love levels out confusion’s sand
and I scratch at the sad unknown.
When glints recover me and
I attach myself to the now
as you would want me to.
I am a sketch between the gaps,
in a transforming phase, so I
may be present for me and those I love.
Drawing rainbows, the tarot’s dreadful tune
plays its cards, counting coloured dreams
brought forth through times of sorrow.
There are unicorns and steep stairs
to the other side of tomorrow.
I am seduced by these stars,
levitating above me, as if
wanting to kiss me on the cheek.
Oh creator’s night, may I dance beneath you?
Overlooking this city I have come to love.
I twirl and bow; thinking of you,
your smile and heart that once was so close to mine.
Counting toward my penny-tone morning
´til my plague is lifted.
Daytime brings porcelain,
out of my back pocket
You tell me:
Read a good book,
drink a nice coffee,
eat the cake slowly.
Life is now.
I am flattered by friendly hellos and simple words
about the weather, while I listen to bells that aren’t
as broken as my smile, I am searching for me,
but it’s like asking for directions at an abandoned gas station.
My empty heart moves along.
When darkness comes; I’m surrounded
by blue and silver fish swimming in single files.
You show me bees and butterflies
that once lived amongst the sunflowers in our garden,
while my muffled voice speaks a silent
language — can you hear me?
Between the sheets I feel for a safe
place to sleep as I count the number of
days that have passed by — can you see me?
I try to fit into my skinned existence.
Can I ever say goodbye to you?
He can’t live with the way she prays,
believing the words are lies
fluid, clear and countless
like lean kitchenware caught
in tight spaces. He suffocates.
in the morning she drinks tea.
The scent of rosemary and spice
filling the room with her solace,
reading parables or writing quotes to carry
her through the day.
When the asphalt paving is too hot,
and the sun attacks the terrain’s love of living.
She awaits afternoon rain.
While hoping those prayers
will reach him wherever he is;
roaming across prairies,
or resting in an adobe hut.