Sketches

Solstice

2007-01-24T14:54:00.000-05:00

I am salved with the galvanic rhythm
of silent rivers
insubstantial shadow, a night.
The oar is a heart,
untying the mouth of waves
The wind wavers still.

Petaled in a lotus.
I traverse ungrounded
as it fathoms a diffused dusk
a twilight as lucid as oblivion

And somehow if you were not mine,
What I would not have endured?

And some day the wind will carry us

2007-01-19T14:00:00.000-05:00

to a certain hollowness, apart.
we will not know to breathe,
we will not fathom words
we will not sail with the leaves
Someday unmindful, sorrow will carry us
meandering through the eternal fog
with empty spaces forming banks
rivering us into shape
before
all goes to ashes
before lines are blurred
and faces forgotten.
into the last uncharted land
where neither of us can sing
into the forlorn residue of our mind.

An ode to my Grandma

2007-01-14T01:49:00.000-05:00

I cannot begin to write about life
For it is short.
Summed up neatly in a few memories
Like a bundle of old newspaper
Stored aside for occasional reference.
You lived.
And it ends.
Like that.
Neither can I write about death
Death is too long.
Smoked in hazy absence.
Like the mouth of a river
Seared and forsaken by the desert sand.
You died.
And it begins.
Like that.
I think I shall bury you in my unconsciousness
Or my childhood.
You can bring me to mornings.
Or fan me with a hand made bamboo fan
on humid summer nights.
Like you used to.
And you will remain.
A mist my eyes dread to part with
A quietude
this sable night brings.

A journey through stillness

2007-01-01T10:52:00.000-05:00

A thousand marches of umbrella feet
Mark me in
A thousand quaking journeys
And as many halts
amidst waving tides and a divide.
Counting the whims of
fleeting consciousness
collecting like rain
every dark
that petals into the night.
The morning, however,
does not listen..

The heavy mist sets sail and
my closed limbs
bid farewell to the
dusky haze of nameless clouds.
But I do not drizzle.

Sometimes in vibrant
threads of life
and sometimes
In the paraphernalia of dreams
I am closed tight
neither dead nor alive.

Fall

2006-11-29T01:33:00.000-05:00

Some night
between a fallen mist
and the quiet earth
my distance runs wild.

smaller by every wound
darker made the cold rain

some journeys
between the ripple of old oars
and nowhere
my swansongs of ether noons
reckon with me.

arched by the latent burn
brackish made the frail sea

some other bones of
half open nights
between my gypsy river
and the seeds of refuge sleep
life does not wait
and the mind floats away.

Traces

2006-10-27T15:03:00.000-04:00

The divide widens
as I nomad across long lost dreams
the distance steals your thought
oceans, only a calm stream remains.
and we smile.

How far do the dusks lie?
I want to sleep.
My eyes are worn out
forgetting you.
my fingers can’t feel the scorching sand.
or recall the cascading humidity of your lips.

How long before it rains?
before I lose my way back to you?
How many tides before I cannot recall how to forget you.

How many winds must slip out my fingers?
How many unattainings before I am lost to the sea.

How many lemongrass afternoons
Before I let it go
And remain hushed amidst
the whispers of wildflower moons.

An Ode to Nothingness

2006-10-13T14:22:00.000-04:00

After relentless winters
and numbing spinning nights
with oblivion piled up man high
amidst half burnt fires
quietly burning away
from my eyes to your touch.

A song remains undone
like grey black brown shades of the earth
the earth that I walk on
the earth that envelops me
and a dream
that comes to me sometimes
with you.

Not with the rain
It is colder now,
neither with light.
the sun is too distant.
Why? I do not know. I do not ask.

The winds don’t come here anymore.
They do not bind me like the arms
of a hungry lover
maybe they have gone with you too.

And those who want to know where you are.
I tell them that you are with tomorrows
In sun and shadows playing
in the laughter of nights
in the flow of rivers.
Everywhere.

Only I cannot find you.

Tomorrow I shall tell them
that I have found nothing.
that exists
without you.
except me.
For you are not with me.

Maybe my pain and love and anger
Are too shallow and too moist
And you don’t want to live here.

Someday I know I will have you
In my song
blooming
But till then
I have hope and my silence.

For now

2006-10-11T00:43:00.000-04:00

I know not what it must take
to water like eyelids
and a river to make time
straying and floating
in nameless moments.

Unnamed nomad waves
that ride on night’s wings
and flow into noiseless swamps
of everbrown lost earth.

That was walked upon
sometime by the spokes of
this spinning past
when the present was far off.
Yet and yet…
The night and
the day
all came upon
sudden
like the hurried crash of water
on unsure rocks
carrying pebbles and mud.

It was for nothing then that I dreamt
It is for nothing then that I dream
only a turning head and that is all.

Journeys

2006-09-23T23:45:00.000-04:00

A dream has died,
buried
beneath the chime
of travelling winds.

I want to sleep.
After all, nothing awaits me
Nothing moves
Nothing revolts
Anymore

The journey of thousand porous nights
emerges from the heathen
eyes of barren sleep.
Tip toed. Quiet.
Quivering shadows flood my tranquil.

The incoherent gaze of my eyes
twists distance,
But only a broken dusk mingles
in tedious lament to
the mourning, wintering sky
cold blue and bleeding.

In the colorless, vapid solitude
of dawns,
nothing sails me to you
except that tidal river
that left murky shallow pools
around summer.

An ode to Qana

2006-08-11T12:17:00.000-04:00

Further than proximate fires
And natal storms
We bury innumerable open hands
into the pollen smell of
unconciousness.

Into the womb of this cold earth.
Hands that no longer seek warmth.
Shut in.

The invisible shadow of missiles lurk
Hungry. Arrogant, cascading on thickets
and thorns.
And a hush falls on yellow eyes,
quiet bodies.

Leaves wilt into shadows of green.
No winds resurrect them. Neither water. The Sun does not sing in them
the galvanic rhythm of seasons.

The black hands of death break
into secret sounds
of a simoom.
And our mouth lies caged in
hypnotic threads
In our ashen breast
whispered into untamed disregard
to,
life
to the earth and the sky.

A poet dies

2006-08-10T00:55:00.000-04:00

Sometimes a poet dies
inside.
sudden.
singed in flames
that don’t burn
nor die .

And loses a quiet burial
into the heart of words.
No twilight sings in him
the glory of rebel evenings,
as the dark night sets sail.

The poet shall never see the siesta
of wrinkled suns inside his quiet eyes.

As the book of unattainings recedes
through his clenched hands like
a serpent desert, erasing him.

Nocturne

2006-08-06T12:34:00.000-04:00

Let me speak in grasshopper hazes
if you want to be green
Let me fade in the chime of fireflies
if you need to feed on fleeting darkness.
And tell you all there is to know about
arriving storms and earthquakes.

Burn like the soft fiery moon
if you shall lose your way among shadows.
A desertwind if you forget
the tongue of water.
and tell you stories about absent tides.

A raindrop falling quietly
into the kohl lined sea.
A sliver of moisture
wrapped in your silence
forever between petals
and you can sail me to some obscure sound
stringed to the lashes of summer breeze
every night.

Milestones

2006-08-01T19:16:00.000-04:00

Weave a sliver sail of Nimbus
In threads of rain
To drift
the ocean of flute-winds

Nail rings,
coarse camel beads
of melting twilights
compassing the backwoods
of forgotten touches
traced on my skin.

Kohl lines of sodden seas
knead me a moon
a soft fire
in slender slicefulls
half lit and naked
drowsed in black and white dreams
beneath the mouth of night.

As the wind slips out of your hair
kiss me a dream
hovering around my brows
till I sink in the dark alleys
of barren sleep
in your eyes.

Nina

2006-08-01T00:42:00.000-04:00

Swansongs cusp from
windswept
shadows of butterfly wings.

Snowed into the arms of
stoic ashes.

Burn a little each night.

If some grasshopper winds
after all has burnt.
I recall a barren sleep
To my scalded eyes.
My dreams shall wait
the cascading dusk
of your lips.

Pattern

2006-07-31T22:14:00.000-04:00

Trace
of silhouettes
jive
on walls.

Thoughts shadow
close.

As the day breathes.
Unnoticed.

Patterns of black and white,
crosshatched cobwebs
tag along
grasshopper seconds
beguiled.

Fire

2006-07-30T22:45:00.000-04:00

Ignite then
slowly inside
deep.
Without the song of smoke
or crackle of splinters.
Like an obscure
splash of water
in the womb of aged rivers
born from butterfly-oars
sailing through nameless fogs.
Before

Kohl snows,
dreamful,
dark.
from ashes
burnt.
Awake wide,
magic brimming,
windswept.

Carried through maritime
sand dunes
Aflight on
desert’s wings.
As the monotone dusk sits licking
blisters,
hollowed
out
to memory.

Of storms and related things

2006-07-26T21:51:00.000-04:00

Each day winds blow,
cocoa dark
from north to south
east to west
and wherever they go
unwithheld.
They bring the
youth of flowers
the fable of death
and wars
to some.
Aged winds from hushed wildflowers
frenzied and burnt.
Long lived.
Some from the sea, moist,
tranquil.

Each day a night grows,
naked
unkempt and wistful
on the tender mesh of swansong laziness.
feeding on the echoing madness
that is left behind.
The moon only rises to mold it.

Each day we falter
to speak
of hopeless causes
and long lost reasons
but the world still spins
through some cannibal spell
that makes not a pause.

And each a day distance grows
From the fallen leaf
to the absent ear.
And we do not hear
the sepulchral skies
that the tree sings.

Each day a fire dies,
behind the wooden heart of logs
and barks
ashes to ashes.
Flesh, blood and bone,
And another ignited.

A left and a wrong

2006-07-19T23:09:00.000-04:00

Sometimes I feel abjectly empty and aching
like a dry twig
when some ornate desires pull me into fragments.
But I look away.
And sigh..
this is not my place
and go on unmaking the making of days.

As tsunamis inside plea a release
I lock them up in the glance behind.
I can’t look backward.
Memory is fragile.

Some random callings are still left unanswered.
But I gather speed as I travel across equinox lips.
I flicker an eyelash of a shadow,
but a left and a wrong
don’t make me smile.
So here I am waiting
Bee-wise and shoe-shined
for another afternoon with the wildflowers.

But I must drown sense and carry
this raging fire
To wherever it must go
A calling it says
that needs answering.
Who needs a fire?
I am done burning.

A cuckoo sky

2006-07-07T11:55:00.000-04:00

The cuckoo mind breaks loose on
grasshopper winds,
on borrowed wings of
cotton-light clouds.

As cuckoo silences get lost
in green grass fields like
skittering butterflies.
from one reticence to another.

The wayward heart plays with
the frenzied breath
across winter’s picket fences,
as I sit peeling
the orange sun in evening's lap.

And countless nights are born
into autumn glaze.
As sundown, breezes wild
in a desire to sleep, undone.

And then, at that unfastened moment,
my cuckoo heart breaks open into
the green of rainforests
like the galloping hoof of an agile drop.

Musings

2006-07-05T07:47:00.000-04:00

Verdant clouds
of black-currant darkness
may you float at a loose end
of the infinite vastness of dreams.

Suffuse inside with the fragrance of
embosomed flowers
And sail me to the shores of
vanishing sundown and fading stars.

And when sleep kissed eyes
drift to delusional shores
Take my dormant dawns
away to green grass winds.

As I cradle quietly among
rain sprinkled tendrils of the dusk
secretly flood my eyes in your chime.

And when I have lost my last bit
of sand-speck speech, unfurl
your fingers to the call of my gypsy river.

A hand of fog

2006-07-04T14:16:00.000-04:00

Some winning hands after
when the passage of time disappears
from my fingertips
I will choose this day,
If it remains,
Among myriad forgotten mysteries,
keeper of secrets, as a bookend.

But If I lose today,
Through the hollow faith of a lost dreamer,
I shall also lose the entrance to all that has passed.

Unwilling to play.
I leave this thought in your merry hands.
And float forever in a quest.

7/4/2006 11:05 AM - First Posted

And

2006-07-04T14:06:00.000-04:00

now was when then
across waterfall nights
stoned in the sea of
cobweb darkness.

Two feet of cross-eyed light
Lost in reverie
await the wisdom of chestnut dawns.

The seedless arid wind
Took me in a mouthful
And carried off across leaf high falls
A few memories ago
In search of what I don’t recall.

Was it you? my spring.
Is it you?

7/3/2006 9:11 PM - First Posted

The taken

2006-06-29T11:50:00.000-04:00

I know nothing of watermelon skies
only the hummingbird wind knows
how to fly with an open mouth.
I have tried to explain
the sky's too big.
The wind will never learn.

But I cannot under any pretense
remain naive
I must learn. I have to.
The angst of recondite wisdom.
The stillness of indecision
within the taken.
A fluttering hollow street
running on piled up autumns
in search of footsteps.

And I plunge
into the old fragmented human heart
the night made stone of.

I foresake all sadness wider than the
mouth of your neck.
Only the one's that can be swallowed
and remain etched in immobile currents
colliding into choleric stones
under the dung of a dead sea gull.

First Posted - 6/28/2006 8:03 PM

An Ode to a Kiss

2006-06-27T10:45:00.000-04:00

A kiss is the mouth of wilderness
the hidden passage to the secret of trees
the flight of a dew on the parted lips of an half open night
a kiss is a fire
that carries the pollen of my lashes to your navel, deep.
A kiss
is the uncertain nakedness of your heart
dancing in my tongue
A kiss is an ocean
that sails me to you
in small waves
a kiss my love
binds me to you.

A kiss
is the call of eternal mists
the foggy dew of your tongue
the wine of your mouth
the sea of our breaths
colliding
in the darkness of your eyes
that realizes that there is nothing beyond.

A kiss is the turmoil of norwesters
the freedom of rivers
the solitude of evening skies.

A kiss is the fragrance of earth
Opened petal by petal
A kiss is the warmth of incandescent sands
wrapped in the cloth of rain
A kiss is a drowsy song
from your mouth to mine
A kiss is the crescent moon of sleep
A call to never wake up again
except to taste your red ocean
and to say
deny me this life
but not a kiss.

so a kiss is
.......
my love, a kiss.

Washed fingers

2006-06-22T04:19:00.000-04:00

Bougainvillea evenings seem far enough.
I must stop.
My back’s bleeding.
I have carried too many summers far too long.
Colorless. Dry-hot.

I used to be able to play them. Lute like.
But that was long ago.

I mount my summers on countless canvasses
My fingers play among sunflowers
I am ready.

Eyes first.
Sleeping. Desert Long. Blue dark. Sand quick.
Then
wilderness of your footprints
the fog of your tongue
red earth?

Then the half sung moon.
Private. Eventful.

Then spring came
Or was it winter?
I can’t recall.
Why do the lines smudge?
My fingers?

It’s done now.
Let me weave it with the cellophane sky.
The suns out.
Let it dry. The colors must not bleed now.
But then my summers bore fruit.
It rained.

A blue lotus

2006-06-20T17:19:00.000-04:00

Some indispensable
dancing smokes ago,
with the rainsong's unborn child,
cloaked in the shards of broken
dust, I stopped waiting.

Some feet of tranquil
dreams deep
in the womb of alive waters,
The reflection of a
sleepish song lay buried.
I quit digging.

Some moment longer than pain
when your evening wanted
answers
I ran on dusks broken heels,
Out into the blueness of distance
into the stillness of the wind's
broken cathedral.

I hear the blue lotus whisper...
There must be..
There must be..
Life elsewhere.

4/21/2006 9:06 PM - First Posted

I also burn

2006-06-20T11:50:00.000-04:00

I also burn
in numbed silence
quiet
night-cold
earth-red.

Sometimes
in a single blow
blotted out
with the noise
of laughter.
You.

I also burn
savage
with the world
with the waist of dark rivers
the warmth of wind's spark
in my eyes

Slow
with the fabric of
dishevelled nights
in fragmented shadows
of luminiscenct fireflies.

I also burn
with the blue petals of love
in the stench of escape
in the rhythm of tree barks

I also burn
my love
when
I hear you whisper a knife
through the verdant woman
of nameless springs

6/19/2006 8:42 PM - First Posted

Halt

2006-06-19T12:18:00.000-04:00

No-one
Nothing may move in here
Neither night or day
Not even a shadow.
I want a twilight long life.

Ask the coconut wind to travel elsewhere
It’s too green here.
And I don’t want to think about you.

Ask the river of reflections to swim
Elsewhere
I have to teach my eyes to unlearn your gossamer breath.

Fingers of lament untouch me.
I am not hungry.
I am a poet and I don’t know what to do with sorrow.

Go away now
far
yes farther
Farther still
And never come back to me
Ever
Even when it rains.

6/19/2006 9:11 AM - First Posted

Birds

2006-06-16T10:13:00.000-04:00

Birds
of soft pollen winds
sing as
soft murmurs
of spider-web afternoons,
bleed the sluggishness of the
melting sun.

Unwritten pages,
lineage of distant clouds
bear the tread
of buried storms.

Memoirs of the
frail structure of rain.
Lie with me.

Secret of thirsty stones
Sing in my ears
The hollow cold of water crystals

Swimming naked from
planetary nights
Ploughing through
the foliage of eloquent mists
the disappearing estuaries
sea by sea
through the slender waist of falling rivers.

6/15/2006 5:09 PM - First Posted

Parting II

2006-06-15T11:13:00.000-04:00

Let cobbled stones bleed
quietly into pavements
as whimsical rain
shush the receding sounds
of absence.

And let the nomad sun float
in the dark pools of my eyes
far away from the verdant shores
of hope
as the oblivious hands of
copper sands
smother the musk of us.

In diffident volumes of
arid words,
latent desires
wilt
without water
without knowledge
into forgotten words
and unlearn
the playful fire of fervent emotion.

And crackles in the sepia
of an yellow river
that marked journeys
of tears
to the salty sea.

Amid fleeting thoughts
perhaps
this moment will live on
meandering through foggy alleys
of time
as my fingers rush through memories
to realize
when did we let it go?

6/2/2006 10:48 PM - First Posted

Stranger

2006-06-15T11:12:00.000-04:00

Deny me then
at that hour
a name.
and I will disappear
with the fingertips
of an aging storm.

Deny me then
at that moment
your feet.
I will close the eyelids
of an autumn glade.
and swim away with the wounded
lightness of cotton's wish.

Take it from me then
at that opportune footprint
my right to sing a song
and I will fly away
the escaping hue of verdant springs.

But know this
at that hour

What you had
in the midst of waves
in the summer of niles;
a soul
sudden, inevitable
as the froth of salt.

Do not look for me then
Do not call my name.
Do not ask me how I am.

Leave me in a knee deep of torn dusk.
My abiding moon and this bleeding ground.
That is all I ask.

5/26/2006 8:14 AM - Fisr Posted

For whom the wind tolls

2006-06-15T11:07:00.000-04:00

And in one fleeting moment
draped in my sleepish song,
washed in the waters of
indefinite silence,
I will lose you to the ocean green
of a rainforest
into the night
and a firefly's breath.
Somewhere
hidden between the shadow and light.

My fingers will stop seeking you
in the lifeless corners of absence
in the empty clothes of lament
in the vacuous eyes of a squeezed cloud,

to find my freedom in the firefly's luminous hunt.

3/30/2006 11:22 AM - First Posted

Strings

2006-06-15T10:51:00.000-04:00

Six strings full of someone,
of cobweb filled rains,
distending into the ivied
moss on irrevocable acts
of existence.

Four strings full of time,
filled with battles, none won,
with the slow footsteps
of wrinkled men,
a continuity of the countless
anonymous agonies to Atlantis.

Two strings full of memory,
of obscure fires,
burning inside the cage of stones;
in the wisdom of aging rivers
in the palm of silhouettes.

A string full of remorse
you call it an "Ektara"
I call it my soul.

5/9/2006 7:19 PM

An ode to Sarengi

2006-06-15T10:43:00.000-04:00

From the strings of time
to my wrinkled eyes
from the vastness of the sea
to the solitude of old trees
your frail voice
recalls me in every song.

Songs of the newly buried
and the unburied fragments
of days, hours
to the steepness of the past
when rolling the die
at most meant a scraped knee.

Every moment meant a new beginning
a journey on earth's hidden secrets
into the warmth of rain songs
basking in unopened fragrances
of the infinite sky.

I go wailing on doors
beseech them to part
ask the untold oceans
to open and unroll
emptying me.

In that hour, that moment
I recall you
to take me where I belong
through the humid rings of your notes
I will let my heart wander
and when I am ready to be lost
bury me in the lap of
the outstretched expanse
of the mountains
beneath the feet of
the agile whistling wind.

5/5/2006 7:12 AM - First Posted

Sometimes a fire

2006-06-15T10:20:00.000-04:00

brews inside
insatiable, awkward
an "arifi" traveling
from one reticence to
another.

Private storms
bright. red.
and sometimes
obscure.

Sometimes it is only I that longs
the morbidity of storms
the silence of graveyards
the diffidence of seas.

And it is only sometimes that I am
sought in
the sorrow of ragged dusks
the salt of almond skins
the fishing boats
to sail the hum of a river.

Other times I wait
without a word, without time..
for a rain
and a waltzin Ginn
of thirsty stones.

5/8/2006 7:09 PM - First Posted

Hour glass

2006-06-15T10:11:00.000-04:00

On stormy nights
of seven crystal bihags
full of sand stones
ivyed by pores,
thirsty, on the tenderhooks
of vibrance; this day
lost to the sea
into the endless series of events,
the irreducible law of the earth
the sublime acid
of half swallowed moons
and stiched eyelids
carried into fortunes
of forgotten depths.
Into the dawn of vacuous wisdomless fuzz
awaits fate
as it suffuses into the
dusty age of time's insolent
opulence,
marking nothing.

5/7/2006 2:16 PM - First Posted

Life

2006-06-15T10:09:00.000-04:00

You
like a flame,
leap and swerve,
in fury,
fired by unrequited love
like the jiving hips of
a dancer.
I
like a moth,
of forsaken misery
,long lost,
seek solace
in your thirst.

4/15/2006 6:13 AM - Firat Posted

River

2006-06-15T09:58:00.000-04:00

River of
lament,
wildflowers,
quiet aches,
dancing flames,
half-awake dawn
sand whispers
melt with fables
of
wants,
dreams,
fog,
unquenchable salt waters,
lightning,
broken shadows,
obscure sounds,
and fade in playful tides
of arriving tears.

The humming froth of absence
moors on a forlorn coast.
of leaning truths,
wounded waves
and bleeding wishes.

The fierce lament
of a firefly,
of shadows and light,
surging within,
sings.

3/30/2006 5:20 AM - First Posted

Who knows why

2006-06-15T09:47:00.000-04:00

Waters,
of one thousand and one
pickled summers,
hushed among the fingers
of rain,
swim into one another
like warm immutable petals of
lament.

Fading out,
in the reposed shadow of dreams,
in autumns breeze,
breaking in pieces,
on verdant eyelashes of sand,
bleed an oblivious desert.

The distant
notes of a sarengi
resonates in silence
waiting
to break loose on
the ripples of winter's
lost warmth.

5/1/2006 9:59 AM - First Posted

As I have known

2006-06-13T11:28:00.000-04:00

Moon is a fruit,
ripe nightfull,
of crystal lemons,
wasted in distance.

River is a night
agile and livid,
youth of a bee,
silence's impalpable roots.

Drop is a sea,
of tidal waves,
longing cesspoo
lof sorrow's naked joy.

Rain is a moment
wrapped in sky’s
mutant dews,
of infinite nothingness..

A void is...
the falling dusk
of a lament,
unfastened.

4/26/2006 1:53 PM - First Posted

Commotion

2006-06-13T11:24:00.000-04:00

Hi, I need to return this.
Return what?
Well this life.
Sorry sir we have no return policy.
What do you mean? My neighbour's
got something better. It's happier.
I paid the same amount and got stuck with this shit.
It's the same sir. It can't be any different.
What do ya mean? Can't you see mine is lot a more blue? Are you blind?
It can't be sir.
ok.I want to speak to the manager.

What can I do for you?
I want to change this life.
We don't have an exchange policy sir.
The product is homogenised. You have the same as everyone else.
It can't be.
I want another.
Sorry sir.
What would have me do? Live with this.
I don't want it.

Bang!!!!!It's all crimson now isn't it?

4/14/2006 9:12 AM - Fisrt Posted

Silence

2006-06-13T11:04:00.000-04:00

I have gathered silence
in eloquent drops
from forests,
mystic winds,
winter frosts,
diffident tongue
of passive seas.
and from the mossy green
petals of time.

The silence between
rebel winds and mystic skies,
the silence between wayward nights
and fleeting dawns,
between raindrops and a cloud.

The silence,
between one poem and another.
The silence between
of unborn words
of unsung songs.

The silence bordering our lives.
between quivering lips.
The silence of distance
of desires……
of secrets,
your eyelids.

The silence
of forged dreams
breaking loose on the waltzing breeze.
The silence of your nave
ligniting fire in my eyes.

Let the silence of my poem
paint you in the rhythm
of what you are to me.

4/8/2006 12:16 PM - First Posted

An ode to a child

2006-06-13T10:56:00.000-04:00

I come from the wilderness
of life
roofed in a hazy sky
suffused in smoke.

I rise from the womb
of my mother
And she loses me
in herself,
in the pit of her stomach,
the dark alleys of life,
in its untold waters.

I,
a cathedral of bones,
flesh and skin
learn the language of
sweat, not mine
the language of hunger,
unknown,
the tongue of desire,
foreign and arid.

I,
a flower
bleed my fragrance
on dirty beds sodden
with lust
burn in blood streams of
strangers.

I,
a dark dream,
spent
to the crowded streets
lost to sight,
among casual gazes and
caustic tongues
hushed among the sounds
of my mothers nocturnal
lament.

4/18/2006 10:25 AM - First Posted

For whom the Bell Tolls

2006-06-13T10:48:00.000-04:00

Death
born out of hated
wells in crimson red bodies
that have stopped beating
and life has flown
through the sockets
to where no one knows.
Heavy eyelids now guard the eyes
of children, men and women
from the shadow of light,
knowledge, hunger, fire
and love.

The bullets came with the wind
out of greed
of wandering races
from lands, hungry
for black waters,
weary of poor tribes,
of their tongue, skin, god...
and as pain learned to speak
they set off with their guns
and the legacy of men.

They arrived in ripples,
waves, growing on seas
on rain
on sand...
They came with the silence
of masks
of lies
of deceit
of guns
and the word death.

Apathy speaks

2006-06-09T13:19:00.000-04:00

Swwwwwwwiiiiiiiiisssssssshhhhhhh!!!!
=What was that?
-A bullet travellin
-Where from?
-Ahh.. someone who's got a gun
-Where to?
-Someone dead..err well ought to be
-Why?
-ummmm lot's of reasons
-Black gold
-color of skin
-or god
-or somethin...-who cares?
-It ain't you or me
-so tell me how's life?

4/9/2006 3:33 PM - First Posted

Land of dreams

2006-06-09T13:13:00.000-04:00

It was then..
basked in the silence
of drizzling rain
I chose to leave
far apart....

through the ruins of time
soot filled kernels,
through the thread of life,
weaving..

Past,
on pages of unwritten books
among unfamiliar smells
and unknown voices...

Among unknown rivers
soaked in
absent tides
I wait..
for another day with you.

4/8/2006 11:58 AM - First Posted

Riven

2006-06-09T12:53:00.000-04:00

I have known that
everything changes
the sky,
earth,
wind,
and the color of rain...

I have known that
spring changes
and summer changes
by the breath of winter.

I will not know how to forget my name
when fallen leaves forebode snow.
I will not know what to return to
the earth
the green of forests
the loneliness of sands
the sky, as a fistful of cloud
or the quiet fire of lament
clothed in its crackle.

All I know is that I cannot escape
no matter where or I go.

So I carry my words to pawn to refusal,
and wait for the wind
to carry me off
like a handful of dust,
as I sing my song in silence.

3/19/2006 4:37 PM - First Posted

Handful of Dust

2006-06-09T12:34:00.000-04:00

would never know
what happens after this
what should,
what will,
and what might.
I only know the
quiet aching wound
that binds and aches like
the forlorn shore.

I can never tell
a seabreeze from sand
except only your eyes,
mouth of an unknown ocean
and my parched body
longing for a wave.

I would never seek a
vacant dream,
an errant night,
a light,
touch
or
sound,
except a lament
burning as slowly
as life,
without knowing the futility
of its song.

3/16/2006 10:37 PM - First Posted

Wisdom

2006-06-09T12:29:00.000-04:00

Out of words,
lost to silence
of insatiable fever,
my latent fire,
sodden with the thirst of ages
wounded,
grieves.

In halves,
of have-nots,
in the decadent smell of divisions.

The thread between you and me
strings oceans of sorrow and despair
colored in the lost footprints of time
in the unchanging, arcane
turbulence of a raging fire.

And cries
out a promise loud
in half
to us
of us
for us
in the wisdom of
a crying child.

3/14/2006 11:11 AM - First Posted

Journey

2006-06-09T12:27:00.000-04:00

Streaks of yellow lines
glaring, proud lights
on black asphalt.
My vapid gaze glides
among the boundaries of
green darkness,
and a lonely star.
And there is so much
these eyes want to forget.

3/12/2006 5:52 AM - First Posted

Nameless

2006-06-09T11:53:00.000-04:00

I do not know you
by touch
or smell
or sight.
Nor by the open sky in your eyes
or the language of rain.

No, I do not know you
by the song of clouds
or by the moist wind
hiding inside your eyelashes.

Neither do I know you
by the seabreeze
of your walk.
Or by the light that you
radiate,
nor by your laughter
or its absence.

I know you as obscure,
illusive
warmth
of a nameless spring
casting shadows
on winter.

3/6/2006 12:49 AM - First Posted

Treasure

2006-06-09T11:50:00.000-04:00

From one poem to another
you travel
and
I immerse
in the thin film of dust.

From one song to another
you flee
and I
sing another
for you to nest.

From one sorrow to anotherI dwell.

If tomorrow I see
you in my poem
or in my song
as I undo them,
Let my love shrink
to a fading dew.

3/3/2006 10:00 AM - First Posted

Unsung

2006-06-09T10:51:00.000-04:00

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.

1/26/2006 6:27 PM - First Post

Untamed

2006-06-09T10:40:00.000-04:00

I lie unfurled
like a dry twig
exposed, desolate
but willing. To
life. As to sorrow.
To Love. And the hoarse
cry of another heartbreak.

I dream of swimming acrosst
he bed of time,
skitter like a juveline
tadpole to collect
the salt of memories.

A wish spread wide
on your eyes, like
a thick layer of kohl.
Erase me.

1/20/2006 9:11 AM - First Posted

Listen

2006-06-09T10:31:00.001-04:00

If I held your hand do you know
what it would say?
It would speak
of all things that it longed to touch.
Like the naked light of togetherness
cupping out the thirst of
parched bodies swiftly with
sun-bathed hands.

The warmth of a tight hug
that melts the liquid pulses
of quivering shadows.
The smell of fresh out-of-
the-cloud-rain scribbling down
epistles on windows with careless ease.

The light sea breeze that
hangs loosely from moist eyes.
Relentless longings that surge and fall
like waves as I await your return.

1/13/2006 12:09 PM - First Posted

Losing my religion

2006-06-09T10:31:00.000-04:00

Tonight my truant love
seeks vapor
to swap heartaches
that I could not listen to.

Tonight my absent eyes
waited rebellion
as they sat across
your blue eyes.

Tonight the amazon
flowed in solitude without
a raindrop for company.

And tonight I am yours
all over again
without you needing me.

1/18/2006 5:53 AM - First Posted

All that I had to say

2006-06-09T10:16:00.000-04:00

You've asked me, what is it that I hope?
I want to tell you that only the
bleeding cloud would know.
You've asked me, what is it that I hide?
Only that I have buried my silence
beneath the spring of my wayward
heart.
But perhaps not.
Maybe it is in that buried silence
I lie and what you see is really a shadow.
May be it is in calming defeat I have known:
that your skin tastes like an almond;
that your moist kiss spreads like wildfire.
Maybe it is in solitude,
I have found my tranquil voice.
But when I speak to you;
what you hear is not my voice,
perhaps it is only the cold
wind howling through the
smoky realms of my mind.

1/12/2006 5:35 AM - Fisrt Posted

An ode to loneliness

2006-06-09T09:57:00.000-04:00

One winter far far away
in the blue hills,
wrapped in the timid measure
of an unkempt light
we waited, speechless.

Listening to the rustling leaves,
the whispering rain,
the mourning thunder,
and our quiet heartaches, intent.

Your ocean body carelessly
painted my sand skin
with your unbound froth.

Long since, I have stopped
rummaging the dreary sky for rain
for I still walk sopping wet.

12/28/2005 8:49 AM - first posted

If

2006-06-08T14:01:00.000-04:00

I sail all my ifs to you
like a fleet of fishing boats
with small masts and their fishy smell.
They will harbor at dawn somewhere
not far from the tempting eyes;
closer than happiness
and farther than sorrow.
They will storm the thread of calm waters.
Tiny little boats. No cargo. Just them.
You'll see them when
you come out of your sleep.
And they will look at you with
their green mossy eyes, happily.
No I don't want them back
not today, not ever.
You can keep them.
I will stay here, without a thought
a hope or a wish, smiling,
and wait for you to return
just one ripple, if you could.

12/27/2005 3:05 PM - first posted

Sketches

2006-03-07T15:20:00.000-05:00

Woman
salt of the earth
arrogant green of
a tropical forest.
My Amazon.
In you I see
the thin line
between all that I have
and all that I have lost.

Let me live by counting
the goose-bumps on your skin
the pulse of your quivering lips
Let me burn in your flamed tongue.
and the silence of your beating heart.

Let me string each passing day to
your eyelashes
Let me love you like the tolling wind.

Let me set afoot with your thought
to distant lands bathed in the
waters of dusk.
To hear them tell, stories of one thousand
and one errant desert nights.

Distant Woman.
Let me forge you
in my disappearing dreams.
Drown in your giant still eyes.

And if someday you miss the rain of kisses
I will set myself free, like a weeping cloud.

Seabreeze

2006-03-04T09:57:00.000-05:00

In the stripped harbor
of a broken word,
a syllable,
the cloud opens to rain
the rain to river
and the river to the ocean.

A flickering wish
floats
on waves
drawing life from the
mourning salt,
my dancing flower.
Negotiating passage with
the storm and
the thread of water.

I recklessly look
for a seabreeze
to carry that wish,
in the closed, open
and half-open windows of
the mind.

An Ode

2006-02-28T08:47:00.000-05:00

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

2006-02-20T18:15:00.000-05:00

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

2006-02-19T09:52:00.000-05:00

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

2006-02-15T17:10:00.000-05:00

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

2006-02-15T17:06:00.000-05:00

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

2006-02-15T17:03:00.000-05:00

Blow it to the wind

2006-02-15T16:58:00.000-05:00

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

2006-02-15T16:56:00.000-05:00

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