“Beware of sadness
It can hit you
It can hurt you
Make you sore and what is more
That is not what you are here for”
George Harrison “Beware of Darkness”
I’m a bird sleeping with open eyes,
serenity speaking on imperfection’s branch,
an upset radiating perfectly
within these tense hands,
and your eyes leaning on a haughty chin
tilting inward with a manner of always looking slightly sideways.
My carnal fingers lost on domestic extensions
of barbaric pulchritude; where certainty’s instant
is adrift with you.
Held in love lying placid,
a watermark of the drawing,
subterfuge’s complaint to the ethereal,
depicting a woman kneeling before something
indecipherable lying and dreaming
with no pretensions, only wave’s memory.
My most beautiful feeling
soaked in a drowning sea;
Tomorrow, I’ll plant the rose-bush
and watch its beading, bleeding
petals sing morning.