An Ode

If your face did not carry
the smile of water
I could have said;
feel the trace of
the summer rain.

If your eyes did not
carry the ocean
I could have said:
ask the forlorn shore.

If your hands did not
paint the setting dusk
I could have said:
ask the raining clouds.

That when you are with me
I am alive
and all my thoughts sail to you.
And if someday I lose you
to the wind,
to the sands of time,
I just as well could be
the hands of that memory-less desert.

If

Someday we will talk again
for a while,
a while not yours
and not mine
just a wandering while summoned from the
vapor of the wistful sky.

I will sail all my love into the starry sky.
And we will dance in the water beneath our feet.
Play with the froth of the ocean.

We will whirl around in circles.
Like the hands of the circus sand.
And I will hold you.

You will melt .
like a wish
a wish not mine- nevertheless.

I will sing to the errant fleeting night.
Brush the waves,
and look at you with silent eyes
as you turn
to run away
away for a while.

And how

Yes how,
not why or when or what?
Only how is all that matters.

How will it be, when all of this is gone;
the rambling winds that carry your
thought to me
the jiving fire of togetherness
breaths away
in the lap of dusk?

How will it be when the summer fails
to return to my eyes and the
withered jassmine smell of
us smothers me?

How will it be when my tear drops
swim away with the mystic river?

How will it be when the lightness
of my shadow is soaked
in the salt of your absence?


How will it be when my sweat hunts
for your ocean eyes,
my fingers look for your almond-skin,
my tongue looks for an errant night?


Perhaps I will still write then,
about us,
on the cold desert sand
beneath the footsprints of time,
or lose my voice
as you walk to the light blowing
all of this to the wind.

Colorless

If I said
that I long for color
Would you paint me
as I wished?
Would you paint
me in evening sky?
Or in half-awake dawn,
In the quiet rain,
In the mossy sea green
of lost time?
Would you paint me
in the rhythm of fleeting darkness?
In your goose-bumps,
In the half circle of your nails,
In your placid smile,
Would you paint me still?

Redemption

History will not mark
my body with a dry flower petal
amongst the pages of time.

Life will not decimate me
or leave it for the wind to
carry me like dust.

Sorrow will not abide by my
sacred rules to suffuse inside
like salt in the ocean.

And my hoarse voice will not seek
secret passages to your happy song.

In every fleeting moment that passes,
I am as much past or present,
as your butterfly-memory would permit.

I belong as much to your errant
heart as to solitude's brothel.

I seek no one.
Not even sorrow tonight.

Unsung

Death
does not abide by
or belong
to the solemn smoke
of guns.

It suffuses
in the pages of history,
sometimes awake,
sometimes asleep.

To the thick mist
of ages, it clings like oily dust
and howls with the wind.

The song of Vesuvius.
The song of us, unheard.

Blow it to the wind

I have come to mark you
with my vacant eyes
as my spider-mouth
travells across your hesitant body,
weaving thirst inside.

I have come to take you to the shore
of lost time and sail sorrow beyond
the waves, to the calm waters of oblivion.
And watch the dawn dance away the
hues of fleeting darkness,happy.

I have come to inhabit your vacant
harbor with my escaping dreams
and your lucid sleep that dissolves
the four corners of the infinite sky
into joyous rain.

I have come to give you the
warmth of unborn words, the
silence of my beating heart
escaping like a fugitive,
with my breath.

Let your love climb up to the
mountain of my tongue in
tender steps as I close
myself, petal by petal
like a nocturnal flower.

Despair

As the day lulls by
I sail my hope in your ocean eyes.

My longing despairs
Like a hungry bohemian flame
making love to a dreary forest,
lying in surrender.

From the socket of your eyes
to mine.
Darkness reigns.
The honey-suckle shadow of light
loses foot-hold in those errant eyes.

As the day leans to dusk
I cast my sad-nets into the depths
of sorrow.
I hear the night gallop
cutting loose each and every
ferry of hope
that moored on the bank of your eyes.

I mourn to the wind
Let
-the dusk lose its way
-the river hunger for rain
-the sky shatter into a million transparent
pieces.

And
If you can't hear the rain again
Let my love blossom into an arrow of carnations