The Mysterious Ways Of Heart

I look at him as he smiles gently and warmly
my heart warms and I have the urge to hold him
between my hands to kiss him and possess him.

The moon is a tricky gent. He plays the notes
and cool droplets of desires and dreams shimmer
on the waxy banana leaves. Oh, the scent of skin!

The wanderer with a cool flame in his eyes
and an uncertain smile on his hesitant lips.
Where is his sensitive blue touch tonight?

Yet Each Man Kills The Thing He Loves

Early this morning there was a purple dream
the Sun in orange glow drifted over the ocean
setting the wings of Willets on a golden fire.
For a moment I saw Phoenixes everywhere
I saw life, death and the eternal recurrence
and I tried to will you into existence next to me.

Does each thought have a color?
What is color anyway? A perception?
For you it must be blue.
For me, I don't think I actually know.
Lately I have been shrouded in a gray fog
and I need to clear my head and my heart.

I think we each have a choice
but there is a tender comfort in knowing
that a beautiful death awaits everything.
For we must eventually kill .. kill all things we love.

The Night I Was Born

There was a storm of historic proportions
and my grandmother said to my mother
"Watch out! This child here is trouble".
I smiled in my sleep and swallowed
the dark clouds and the terrible winds.

I am made of fierce, fecund things
a wild child with a storm for a soul
with the deep blue ocean for a heart
the dark sparkle of night for eyes
and  a passion for beauty and truth.