Able to diminish angels (a love poem)

6f34adaec3d3f2a9a682a9e07e10cec5Was I too ancient?

unable to flatten hands upon ground

lost yogic verses in alabaster jars

will a future girl when her curiosity no longer shines like a wishing penny in carp pond? Steal your heart?

the fat Asian fish moving like they regret their enclosure as I regret time like a sweet taste after dark

not so much

was I too taut? Against the relentless sport of out doing

taking a seat from play they beckon me again

no I’m not interested, which is why I have no home phone or middle name

I can still make jelly and watch the t.v. flicker against dark windows

like fire is the stories soul and we the spectators of our calm downfall

you fit the mold

my legs are too long

when I bent to touch the floor I felt the weight on my back growing sore

for what did you ever know of absenting yourself from the world?

you were born with switches you begged people to turn on

sunbathing in rays of attention like a chimeric hot-house plant

and if we were orchids protruding from rotting logs in swamp

your petals would still be perfect

reminding me of the first time

you said no, head cast low

a bowl of gold from the sun

christening us both in shy taunt

and I said … yes

so please … say yes

meet me half way

where we shake off old hurt like moth balls

bound on their fate to repel the unseen pest

leaving lurching shadows to dust furniture

and there by opal of pearly light

dressed in rose glow you are

able to diminish angels

turning timidly into me

licking the envelopes lapel

revealing your want like

honey on my fingertips

tastes sweeter for all our longing

and age? Is a modern invention

for people who check their phones

whilst we lie

rolled like cigarettes against each other

feeling the weight of air pushed by fan

urge us deeper

Cadenza

220px-Beethoven_-_Concerto_in_C_minor,_cadenza.pngWhat is life?

but a pinch

a child’s voice garbled underwater

sinking like stone’s cadenza wish

for more or less

but just

this round

made with cupped hands

holding cream in meshed fingers

lift me over the wall

what do we discover?

in gardens walked with made

 

I have been unable to let you out of my blood

you are the circle of red wrapped around my wrist

a memory of starting point

whistling in cold pirouetting trees

I light an amber fire

to keep you from passing by

don’t stop

don’t call my name

cool the snare about my self

I may recognize

I may respond

It was ever my way

 

you had my brine rubbed into permanence

I was pricked on the thumb

the cast of fate showing me our join

a thin silver line not wide enough

to separate us

the villain lies in that ache

birthing longing on your shore

will you pull me closer

stitch ever, the bind fastening

a snatch of braid

wound like ivy to darken

descended skies

in timerous pause

There you are

15094981_1170125696413806_5262358430950260450_n

about one hundred years ago

or three years

or just yesterday

I lay in your bed

smelling the indent and the roll

of your dream life when I am not

trying to look through your eyes

into your soul

About one hundred years ago

or three years

or just yesterday

I stood over your bed

stripping the sheets

smelling where you lived and breathed

all those nights and days

we should have been making memories

now folded away

About one hundred years ago

or three years

or just yesterday

I smoothed the mattress clear

of the weight you inhabited and

little traces curled here and there

persisting to remind me

of the way the moon lit

your sleeping face

now you will always have your eyes closed

maybe now you can see

the shapes of angels

watching over you until

it is my turn and I come to find

if you have been waiting all this time

a year, a month, a day

one hour is too long

without looking into your eyes

to see what I love reflecting back

like dark diamonds capturing stars

will wink out

and there you are

Our claim

1082130418

Come for me

when the lawn mower is still and cold

resting in its shed as cats prowl with mocking yawl

a world colored black and white by moon shows nothing

of her earthly devour

when heady in day she is every which way a gala of color

scolding you for your down turned mouth

though it would look beautiful in a painting vast in yellow

I would place you next to a vase

and grow wings on your scars

come for me

when leaning out the window I call your name

from one continent to the other can you hear me?

I feel somehow the tremble on this light thimble of pain

connecting us as if we were both sharing

the same space

and though we are not if I call loud enough

you may hear my migrating entreaty

come for me

as once you did and everything hurtful momentarily stopped

like a razor losing its sharp

like a hand paused before slap

I ran fast from my callous

and found you hanging upside down by your knees

eating late damsons

careless of boxes meant for our capture

you said

take a page out of my book

I never ironed myself straight

I kept my curls hidden just in case

one day they should stop needing shoes

and we can return

two by two

set over the ocean

arcing in gain

I will find you

I will sight the land

glistening in

our claim

Clasp

freja-beha-erichsen-tomek-szczukiecki-for-interview-magazine-designscenenet-03I miss intimacy

not the kind that comes with notches

but holding back her hair

spooning her smiles

into my lap

she claims my whole in little hands

where I see the flush of cheekbone

eclipsing against wool

if leaves fall outside we do not

clear them from dry grass

fervently my kisses

linger beyond chiming hour

expectation demanding we

still our rapture for mundane

wash dishes

scour chores

instead lying in each others arms

our low fire keeping at bay

worldly cares

nothing but this exists

surrounded by shadows we

persist in our linkage

pulling faces at the chill

edging our clasp for one another

as two children lost in forest may

share timbered warmth

I miss her plum mouth

the way she reserves the longest

embrace for passover darkness

how her body surges like

a water wheel against my slow pull

as if I am garnering from our union

the best of us both

encased in fire, disputing chill

without her I am just a person

tredding tightrope

touching concrete and fabrication

like a carpenter, void of wood

should raise his empty hands

beseeching listening deity

for the weight of

his craft

she became the life preserve

and I the blinking shell of light

guiding her to familiar shore

without each other

we are simply icebergs

seeking dissolution

in barren stretch of ocean

The waves

12523897_1631510570443424_1060343369498657444_nAll the trees looked away

on raw knees

shingle and sand castles

wet newspaper of old stories

yellow fag butts, half empty cider cans

containing sweet succor

one last piece of chocolate give the child

before she loses herself

her best toy clean from wash

smelling of home and tulips

sea makes ghosts of us

running brine like hot semen

searching fruitless loins

kicking against tin cans

bricks do not prize apart

one wet wall from another

we clamor against ageing need

spill the first glass

pour the benediction

here we leave our umbilical chords for advent

what came to be in deserted fair grounds

gold paint flaking against scarlet mouths

wooden horses rolling their eyes

softly dancing on platforms with scratched song

walk out as far as the pier takes you

he watches from his metal bed

strung with his spot lit horror

thin muscles tight with longing

hips like razors privately digging into

your flailing conception

it’s the price

bed sheets left to rinse out your scream

don’t cut your hair don’t spare your wrists

his was a sharp entry into your sleep

run on water-logged deadened feet

past the chip shop hording its quiet fat

where veiled women stare at first light

breaking over cracked lips the train

crying past in low throated whistle

down damp cobbled steps emptied of market

into space without endings or slow buttons

the sea is white with fury

her mouth mounts your need

swallowing the bitter salt of ragged release

beneath stains we see the outline

here lay the girl who caught a bus

carrying her clean underwear like a flag

climbed into her part as a glove

here she is pinched by her starvation

horror painting her eyes purple

ebbing on tide with scissored legs fighting

their eventual knot a violin played in fire

she opened her flute to high ceilings

reedy sound echoing off salvaged walls

fast fury unzipping protest

be a good child bow your head

stay still when flame chews

stroke the boy who demands

fist around your throat starving

paper ghosts fall into obedient rows

feel the rush of angels in her touch

he said I hope you give decent head

I’ve been waiting to break your alabaster

like new buildings devour old

never knew what stood before

leaving thin pockets full of stones

better swim with indigo weeds

hair imprinting shadows on hot breath

goodbye is hello

you learned hard on scalding youth

taking a straw from a tall glass

sucking it dry

my child is the color of clouds

meeting at the point of horizon

where storms gather to make glass

he indented himself like a tattoo

when she climbed out she could not feel

where he pricked her empty sadness

leaving a colander of spilt torch-light

pent-up boys with dusty souls

touching warm radiators, hanging

apologies on skinny shoulders

sounding against sagging mattresses

one two-three is all it took

a sharp knife cutting the choir

freedom twists at a price

he rose like the swell, filling her

the first time you never forget

they whispered behind sticky fingers

girl pull down your hems

cover your spindle chest

close your legs to the roar

hear the waves

hear the waves overtake you

Choice

thlkkOne night quenched of light

as we lay unraveled in fold of sheets

like unwilling fish for morning fry

she turned to me and asked

what made you choose me?

I wanted to say

even if you were not here

and by moon I could not make out

the clemency of your shoulders

narrow and bony without their wings

even if in the darkness your scent did not

open a box of flowers crusted with honey

longing I cannot describe but with touch

sighting the marzipan of your curves

I would have wanted

the girl whose legs reminded me of a childs

in their awkward gait as foals will stand unsure

elongated against distance

their large eyes blinking

unknowing of what they need more

the urgency of galloping

or to seek warmth among others

you were a kite

striking branches twisting free

you were a rapture

exploding under water in silver shoal

you were a song

broken against coming darkness

bidding dreams welcome

you were a cacti

weathering assault, growing deeper with

each rush of red sand

covering over potential like a hidden lake

shall glimmer unseen

until revealed she takes her

place marking the world

in gentle caress and with one

stride opens even the most

reluctant to her behest

I didn’t choose you

you chose me like spring

conducts the sleeping to unveil

bidden, make your climb

toward her galvanizing urge