I could write your pages onto sheets of my unkempt bed
Slowly cycling the in-seam with the hem,
And rolling each corner up like a cigarette to smoke slowly
Because love here is so thick it’s impassable;
Between eyes of surrender and a heart of
I’m never letting go.
So I blot my pen into deep white sensories
Circumnavigating each prior night’s creases – expertly –
Until my final stroke has been felt and embraced
As if it were written upon thy own lined back.
Tag: back
To Be Ready in thy Soul (day 1725)
I wish I could reach out to you
Hold out my warmth in arms
I’d be your blanket wrapped around
To keep thy soul in tight
I wish I had the strength to grow
As the tree grows up and down
I’d have protection under me
To shade thee from heaven’s rain
I wish I was wind beneath
Your sail so taught and ready
My breeze would cool on warmer days
And speed thee through thy storm
I wish I had a bent back
Worn from thy service to thee
I’d be rags to keep thy feet
From ever touching hard ground
Weeping Willow (day 1676)
It is with this intention
That I grow into unique
But not a unique so unique
It looses it’s physique
For lost and alone
Was never a soul
To be borne or simply left
Just lost in the lagoon
Trampling skunk cabbage
And swinging aimlessly
About low hanging branches
Of a bountiful weeping willow
To find the end to gather up
A handful of bull-rushes
That I so delicately paste
Upon the small of my back
To become my wings as I carry on
Forward and truth,
Happy New Year to all
The game is upon us now.
Serendipitous Brow (day 1294)
Never forget words you spent
Diving deep and letting go.
For as wind kept at your bent,
Swiftly guiding you onward and forth,
Little swaps of serendipity
Began to form about your brow,
Which has done a tremendous amount
To curl the ether about you now.
Your Back So Bare (day 1292)
I climbed upon your back so bare
To breathe, inhale, a purer air.
Here I gasped with jubilent glee
Worshiping in holy ceremony.
You were not as you’ve been before,
Coming to me as if from yore,
We met and clasped and built upon;
Here we made our own love song.
Written Down the Back of my Neck (day 934)
Lines have been written down the back of my neck
Ancient scrolls, unintelligible
In a language spoken when men and women
Lived together in deep respect and love
My throat has begun to burn
The ink has started to bleed
Where once was smooth innocence
Crawling with anticipation of the turning times
Return to a fantasia built upon sorcery
Filled with myth so blood-soaked and deep
Memories flood the virgin landscape
And the Oracle speaks once again
Crimson Shakes (day 864)
Waking with the burden on my back
Crawling the narrow channels of my neck
Pain so deep it speaks off the walls
And drips into my uncomfortable cocoon
I’ve disturbedly rolled out flat
Fire engine red blares in and out
Of conscious moments of reality
This is a space between spaces
No quarter for heavy thoughts
Too where light falls upon closed eyes
That slips back into crimson shakes
Angels Embrace (day 796)
I dance with an angel slithering up my back
Lightly digging her fingernails into points on my spine
Our sweet summer skin melting in the motion
A smooth song hits us in sensitive spots
Ebbing and swelling the tips of our hearts
We inhale each others substance
Focus gathers in tiny beads of sweat
Flickering brightly in the midday sun
Her collar bone eats up my carnivorous thoughts
Tempting my index finger to trace lower edges
Hiding in the shadows, decadent as they wait
She spins, fingers lightly touch my ribs
….and we hold.
Glide (day 789)
Would you glide under me
If I told you how tremendous your advantage was?
Gently laying your hands
Upon my aggressive hips
Digging deeper for anticipated passion
Rustling night air with sensuality
Do you like the way music
Catches hold of our souls and ignites fire
Hidden sublimely in the embers?
There is a saturation point
Where sight isn’t relevant
Eyelids gently shut and
Eyes rolled to the sky
Toes curling in an arching kind of way
Just like the small of your back would feel
If I were to encourage you
To glide under the touch of
My well trained hands
Like a man as a lover should
Thee Traitors Guilt (day 770)
If I should sing to let it out,
Let mine heart come before my throat.
Should I to throw it all away,
My guard so closely held to me,
So tight thy clutches keep it by,
That even I can scarcely cry.
It fills the rivers, flowing high,
With demands; spent at last.
Where should I take to plan again?
If never again to hold thy hand.
But my sorrow does not weigh thy down,
It chases thy mind, late at night.
Curling it’s distant cries tightly
Around mine enemies to bring them near.
For you have neigh been gently to
The brow of which is mine to frow.
Like dandelions reach’d a state decay’d,
A tiny orb of gone with the wind,
Gently swaying to and fro
In the cool mornings dewy glow.
For now thy knoweth why
I sigh into the songs I sing,
Why I shall carry upon my back
This choice of burden, this gunny sack.
It holds the damage done afore,
It bleeds the blood that once before
Bled about my conscious’s sleeve.
But swept away like wind that’s come,
It’s found it’s way: burden upon my back.
For when I speak to hear mine words,
What beckons my mane to question thus,
Are simple words, beseeching thy:
If not for I, whatever for, dear?
For if not for I then what is left?
Surely there must be something abreast.
If not for me, what good is thee?
Have I becometh thee traitor’s guilt?
Have I been loved by an unformidable cloak?
Damaged doth my thoughts become,
Left to stew about in gloom.
So out! Be gone with it then!
Let love be gone, at once have truth,
Make speed to return here once more again.
For I shall find in my path tomorrow,
A heart that fills my heart still more.
So let it end, this ghastly sorrow.
Be off with it then, gone in the wind.