Countryside Love Affair

I want to find a place

in the countryside where I may

lay you down in a meadow,

and gently kiss your

body til the universe comes to watch.

Let them see, let them see our love;

the embrace of truth and joy,

sustained by whispered gasps and

sweet little cries.



A Dangerous Heart/Notion

You hold a profoundness in
your eyes; I know there’s
something locked behind them,
and I intend to decipher it
someday because you will
open yourself to me as we
pry open our chests and
exchange hearts.

I know you have questions,
but you seem never to ask
as though you have no words,
or you’re waiting on me to
tell you what lies within.
Or maybe you don’t want to know.
Are you fearful of what you’ll discover?
You flip past the pages,
evading the piecing-together of
these fragmented chapters.
And maybe it’s better this way.
I am a chronicling of dangerous
hearts, but mine is the
most dangerous heart of all.

A Swelling Heart’s Confessional

You materialize before me-
and I welcome the vision-
for when slumber heaves
its weight upon my bones,
I seek your warmth,
search for the curls,
the softness of your tender body,
your scent-that fragrance
only you could emit, my
unearthly flower.

In this dark sanctuary,
I see those precious aquamarines
that when they open, and I’ve been
watching, waiting to see them look
into my own soul, I feel Earth stop
and only your and my heart beat.
And I cradle your head, stroke your cheek,
run my curious fingers through your
ashen hair til silver dust blankets the room.
I can only conjure the nectar of your kiss;
ambrosia laced petals that I feel will make
my heart burst when I press my violent
mouth against this velveteen paradise,
and sample time and time again the
essence of life fulfilled.

O, the dream only impersonates
the true figure standing so near,
slipping into my space, my soul;
whirling into my being and making
me tremble at the thought of
being in the presence of
a design I could not
hope to construe.
A lover, a friend,
a soulmate…
you must be here
to save me from myself.


A deadlier man than him
told me once that
Earth cannot sustain
the decadence of
the pursuit of
happiness, cannot
bolster the crippling
pursuit of love
and what it takes to
maintain it.
But I told him
that to keep
things from falling
apart, we had to
pick up the pieces,
glue them together
to form a mosaic of
life past, present, future.
What else can we do,
but disintegrate? mosaic

December (is a sky uncharted)

grey winter sky
Born atop a barren hill,
amidst dormant trees–
their gnarled fingers protecting
the babe–the fleeting sun
sparked, flashed, then died.
With a gust of wind, the
snow rolled o’er fields,
meadows, forests, ponds
and settled in my sight.
The city is far from me.
There are many names for
what we have.
We can call out to one another,
but we have no words, just
feelings, just touches.
I praise the silence;
I cherish you.

Diluted morning, a time for vespers.
A time for night to slither to
the other side, but slowly, please
ever so slowly, I beg.
I step outside-the breath coiling
from chapped lips-and seek
deliverance from the malaise of
the dollar and coin.
I want to reach into the expanse
and pull the colour, spread it across
my body so that maybe, just maybe,
I’ll be a muse unto myself.
But, with the smoke and breath dissipating,
I return to your warmth and watch you
sleep ever so peacefully.
I’ll take that over anything.

Who knows this light?

Who knows this light?/It is warm/like cats coiled in laps/like sunlight fresh from the morning/like summers drenched in dew/like pastries from the oven/like hot metal red and smoking/like embraces openly welcomed/like your body next to mine.
Who knows this light?/Me and you/if no one else.

how can I confess?

What light from distant moons breaks?
the essence bleeds; its blood a
coiled oil: red-black with pain
and understanding. I touch
the rose, colouring the petals
soft with the scarlets of my soul.
What words I carry shift and
contort–how can I confess
to the hearts above?
The fibres of your soul are
strung with mine;together
we are a tapestry purposed, remembered.
fractal rose


The vermilion of your soul
glows brighter than fire;
I want the warmth, your warmth,
hides me in a cloak of safety,
shields me from myself.

You seem so near, so near,
let me come near to you too.
Come into my heart, so that
I may enter yours.

Was it life before you?

Tenderly, softly, I kiss your
sweet, slumbering body;
your chest rises and falls
like waves upon an ocean,
and I hear your breaths,
counting mine in syncopated ins
and outs.
My hands trace your silken skin,
the contours in the dim,
moonlit bed so near
to me I can only close
my eyes and pray
wordlessly to the powers that be,
thanking them/it/someone/anything? for
placing you in my life. Was it
life before you?
Then I nestle my face next to yours.
You dream, you peacefully dream.
I hold your face as if it was glass,
shut my eyes for a 4:00 vesper,
genuflecting to myself with
a rosary of hearts in my hand.
Mother Mary, anyone, anything that
cares to listen…even if the power
is only within me, only me:
I pray to you, make this man
my husband.

Nocturn (Open-eyed Dream)

Farther and farther the edge of darkness climbs;
the ruby-chested moon ascend the throne,
and diamonds from a world beyond bejewel
the velvet cloak that surrounds my plain of being.
It is changing, but the stillness remains.

I stretch my hand, hoping to pull a piece
of night from the veil, hoping to
remind myself of the souls I left to
their devices. I can feel them: moving,
meandering, floating but never knowing.
Come to me, I call, but the language
of the living becomes faint to the dead.

Darling, beckon me from the shadow.
Darling, yes, darling there is a dawn
approaching. I think you see it as I
do, I think, I think.
I wait beyond the cold mist;
drink of the dew and you will find me.