From you …

two woman kissing each other
Photo by rawpixel.com on Pexels.com

Night isn’t dark enough to cover my shame

How I reveal myself to you from these coils

So long hung to rust with ashy regret of inaction

I once watched my life on the movie screen and when it ended

We all toasted the director, who wrote our existence

On the inside of his scarred wrist.

Do father’s ever know their daughters?

Grown in earth before lightning strike

Do lovers ever desipher the real reason for silence

Resting like a found feather on dusty counter top

So easily blown to floor.

Night isn’t dark enough to cover my need

To emerge un-whole and starving from grief

And feast on you until all blood is drunk.

I grow ill with desire

It boils my want the color of bones found beneath rocks

And thunder reminds me

Without you

I am always

Alone.

Lift me then, into your mouth, make a meal of my belief

There is only one go around on the Ferris wheel

Afterward

You smooth indigo sheets free of perspective

lying as flat as hope without wind to bouy them apparent

As I am diminished in anything without you

iris petals growing ever soft against their hard stalks.

Night isn’t dark enough to cover my words

Spoken like strokes over your ebony crown of thorns

My unquiet heart desirous of posie finds in you

A glittering creature, unreachable in your poise.

My feet are sore from running and my heart hammers as

A hundred drums pound the surge of us

Your devour and my claim are loose souls finding substance

In the fever of each other against

Belting storm, whipping its wrath like enthusiastic penetant

Eager to evoke blood

Mine and yours on scald of dawn

From you …

Night isn’t dark enough to disguise my love.

Advertisements

Closed curtains in day time

grayscale woman in bed

The dust of you is still impregnated in my palm

I run you through my hair, over my cheeks, down

my neck, between my rising breasts

like washing without water

our hair pressed into the sheets as you

pushed me deeper with your own weight

our magnetism inflaming the very air

your scent is my obsession

carried in my skin like rare perfume

only you possess

I hold you after you are gone

in a thousand ways

words have never touched you

in the darkness when I say

the silhouette of you drives me wild

I do not have fingers enough to

press into your skin and leave my

indent of love

you smile a weary smile, for you are

already thinking of other things

and I am only building desire to

a higher pitch

as if tasting you once sets me aflame

and I burn again and again

with the memory

lighting the way to never ceasing

if there were a hundred years

I’d still be aching for your touch

my thirst

never sate

a need to climb inside you

and fuse into one

reaching across

where you lay

the outline still visible

in the weak light coming through

closed curtains in day time

 

Big Sur

This is about you

about your long-legged stride and the way you shield your eyes

too light for the orange center of Californian sun

This is about you

it is called; Sorry I don’t see you every day because

if I did I think I wouldn’t care that we both burn

or our former rules and preferences

they were just defenses against the unknown anyway

what really counts, like you say in that dogmatic

tone I find so worldly; The soul it’s all about the soul

of course you are right

and not because you have lived 5 life times

and here’s where you correct me and say darling;

it’s eight incantations thus far

and you put on my accent and make me laugh

as the bog gnaws the bone that came by Amazon

along with my book and if I could

climb into that box and send myself

the version you see

not my own diminished copy

who forgot how to laugh until she ached

I surely would and we’d

buy a Streamliner like you said

hitch it to my track and

take Highway 1 past Carmel

you talking of Hunter S. Thompson

and Henry Miller

me remembering how Anais Nin

wrote; “We don’t see things as they are, we see them as we are.”

How true, you reply

this is why you and I met

so you could learn to appreciate

the love of mountains and that stillness

in the sea when the sun begins to set

spreading her fingers across diminishing light

like a lover

and by an old cantina we drink

vintage cocktails from a hot water bottle like Some Like It Hot

as fireflies lay thoughts in the air

just as you

self-assured and possessed with a quietude

I find magnetic

roll up your shirt sleeves and

penetrate my hesitation

with your certainty

there is a film reel in my head of us

you’re watching me sleep against the car window

chinks of light hitting my cheeks like

bursts of fire

I’m pretending with eyes closed to dream

wanting you to take

that last distance between us

like the 13 Beaches Lana Del Ray sings of

low and throaty on thirsty radio

as if we were in Patsy Cline country

except we both hate anything

reminding us of then

we’ll make our own now

in the placement of moments

your eyes a question

my mouth an answer

and the photograph of Sandy

staring out against sunlight

her impossibly beautiful breasts

the languid tongue of her Lurcher

imagining his sleep with sun warmed fur

what was she thinking?

all nude and lovely and how do

people born of ordinary circumstance

inhabit her shore

and find their own

abandon in the dunes?

You say you know the answer

just as you seem to know

my making and my depths

and I cleave to you

as the rock erodes against sea

carving greater beauty in

wild grass taking up what was once

submerged

perhaps you are silver

in darkness and your touch

fills me with the laughter

I held underwater these

many years

waiting for an explorer

someone unafraid of

great depths

to find the way

to Big Sur

Yehudit

14gottschalk3-jumboWe learned to swim

in the flickering pools of each other’s eyes

desire born in quiet step and curtsy

before I ever touched you outside this dream world

you were the betroth of my sleep

we circled each other in origami folds

acquainting, never strangers, always known

as if time held us apart long enough, to generate

in the deep cry of longing, a hallowed place

where only those destined for the other

shall like painted flowers, made of paper

embrace, release and turn to ink

coloring water the stain of lacquered longing

reborn on latticed wing of desire

to breathe again in the surround of this singular girl

for you, are my pendant, hung close to my heart

you do not tarnish or fade in intensity

you are the twitch in my smile, a muscle pulling

upward each time I think of you

it is as if, with every turning day

a part of me becomes dissolved

like sugar in tea sweetens what is plain

I am able to see in you, what you no longer can

those vestiges you put away

in a box too high for reclaiming

where your silver rings and sunlit hair

lies dormant, replaced by sensible overcooked hours

I was perhaps, born to return color to your cheeks

even as it grows dark I see your

sleek head bowed in feigned peace

knowing if I were admitted into

the sanctum of your unspoken sorrow

where peach hued roses bloom fragrant

there would be a blush again

marking darkness exquisite

as the silhouette of your dusky butterfly

brands my marrow indelibly

for it is simple; two people who did not plan

falling out of the sky, meet the other

everything changes, if they leave behind fear

we are not given wings, if meant to only walk earth

you send me to heights I could not

describe before you walked into my life

claiming my tiptoeing heart

we who are dancers of dusk and dawn

whisper secrets stored so long

out into infinity and beyond

she who is diminutive and siren

hear my song

No words

For all our words

We say nothing

In the blue of dusk

My hair catching light

In combed moments

A rise and fall

The thimble of surround heartbeat

Toes pointing

Dancing in stillness

Somewhere there is music

Like cream

Slowly spreading

On cold tile

While those of the house

Lift their skirts

Climb on mattresses
Held aloft

Sinking into softness

Arms over arms

Swaying

Closed eyes

Brief dizziness

The nip of proximity

Your mouth on mine

Furthering

No words

Waiting for you to read my mind

36483015_1_x

There is

An abacus

Counting sense and nonsense

On the high cheeks of a woman

Whose done saying what she’s told

The photographer

Catches her unease

In the shape of her mouth

It would taste of raspberry, that’s obvious

At night, the crystal of your half filled glass shines

Ice melting slow like peeling clothes

Staring at naked ghosts with their hands up

Sexing on dirty carpets with clean minds

Watching flashbacks of regrets and pleasure

Idling trucks melting snow with their hung over breath

If you were a pill I’d O.D. on your potency

Skipping heartbeat, chasing down roads, your diminishing form

You left one day intact and never returned

Sending a doppelgänger

A confidence artist, in your stead

Who told me; I like your eyes they’re untamed

With a paper tongue and windscreen brow

Wiping away the rain, that endlessly fell

We must get used to death

In each pause, in the rhythm

I touched your skin

And thought of new England apples

The first taste

Belief comes last

Use your imagination

Can you see me?

I’m standing waist deep

Waiting for you to read my mind

Like you did once with the alacrity of an gymnast

In the throes of passion

Braile

Morse code

Signs and wonders

Photos over exposed

Ringing phones in the night

Knowing the destination in your fingers and finding

Without map or lights switched on

Blacking out cries

To be found

Oh god

To be found again

By you

Yes

She has

Russia folded in her eyes

The girl she once was

In balletic poise and straight long neck

She carries her mother’s lips in disapproval and mirth

The tan of her father come from outside, asking for iced hibiscus

Her long hands are her own

They play instruments and lovers

With careful solitary stroke

She has the curl of her grandmother crossing brow in stray wave

A sad gaze into ether, when you catch her off guard

And I am drawn to the shy fruiting shape of her mouth

As we talk and artfully avoid

What is undisclosed in space existing

Between strangers, then become friends

Not yet more

Will she understand? Unbutton one permission

Without need to drink liquor or gather foreign courage

From the same source we all go

Unsure and burning up with tiptoeing fever

I imagine

Stepping over the divide

Between her serenity and mine

Touching the cool fawn skin of her throat

Gathering her to me, as gardener arranges posie from wild thorn

Proffering possibility like dancers, sweating and sleek bodied

Will acquiesce their motion to soft fall of curtain

I know her heart will be close to her warm skin

Cantering like a wild appalachian

I know because I see the quiver in her narrow shoulders

Feel her keening toward me as shifting current

Caught in hesitation and mute query

It is my place to shake doubt with first touch

Banish half formed fears

Replace them with mutual need

See her eyes widen and take in

The fullness of our rounding desire

We move into the other

Like music attracting and repelling

Night winds, pregnant with sea spray

Leaving flowers, shining and damp

Beneath velvet sky, emptied of noise

Lest sound of her sigh and one word,

Yes.