I wanna make love to you.
Not the love that races to the end
But the love that fills the sky
At dusk,
Or that dwells deep within the hearts
Of Canadian geese in flight.
I want to make love to you
Like the lazy sunshine
That kisses with closed eyes
In the middle of a green grass field
With bees drunkily stumbling by
On sweet mother Gaia’s nectar.
I want to make love to you
So that you feel the ocean rise
And swell
And lightly float around
From pink-red starfish tides
And the slow rush
Of retreating and surfaced seaweed
That entangles your every sense
As you submit to its enveloping wetness.
I want to make love to you there
Where sheets become props
And danger lurks within our eyes
Like phantoms who’ve been hiding
For generations.
I want to be there with you
For when you play lightly the strings
Of your most sensitive song
I shall be listening
So intent on your tune.
Tag: dusk
Broken Arrow Peddler (day 3139)
Ten shades of a broken arrow
Stretched across the sky
Moon and sun both couldn’t hide
So they raged, no dawn, no dusk.
A peddler man came walking down
In a suit quite unknown in that world,
Had two tones of gravity
Two handfuls of pure dirt.
In each promise the hook was set
Deeper and deeper it took
Just like moon and sun,
They raged, they raged, they raged.
The end became, the gone be gone
The rules left written down
Nailed to a city square post
Discarded cloth and plastic close by.
The moon became calm and laid away
A soft silver spoon for a tomorrow,
The sun, alert, smiled peacefully
And awoke children so sewn.
Dusk (day 2158)
This is the spark that sets seed
A jubilant setting free
A sunset beyond every sea
With a new day the grain that grows.
And if each sign these clouds do point
Expose a pasture fit for rose
Should a foot that heals the earth
Lay thin dust that bitter burns?
Nay, each dusk a seat be found
To hold each glass, a little worn
A ritual many should be warmed
At last, sweet moon, a gray cocoon.
My Arbutus Tree (day 1789)
I’ve wasted the jewels of my heart
On my arbutus tree, left
As bark peels my solemn movements
Into a windy road
Lightly misting with a dark mystery
Of dusk setting in
After a long day traveled.
I cannot see for the light,
I cannot hear for the wind,
I cannot feel for my fingers
Have started to scratch too idle
At my knees, left
So bare of a kind woman’s touch
And settled on my mind
With gnarled wisdom in the spine
Of my arbutus tree.
Inner Relief (day 1526)
The inner relief of my contemplative mind
Shakes like an ever revolving ceremony;
A lighthouse glimmering at dusk.
Inwardly I know.
Inwardly I wish for a safe standard
That holds my hand and lifts equal parts
Harmony, equal parts awareness
To a region just above my Cronus,
Just above this inner guide
Traveling a while next to me.
Floating Home (day 1493)
I am floating as if observing
And not returning home.
I am a ruffling cloud nearing dusk
Upon a serene and hot evening
At the lake smelling like campfire.
I am nonsense trickling off into night
In rattles and clacking,
As lonesome restlessly lays naked
Aside discarded sheets
And a light layer of sweat.
Ancient Eyes (day 1257)
I rolled my ancient eyes
Into unwanted memories,
Unwanted flickers of
Brutal awakenings
That shook the very soil
I’ve stepped so lightly upon.
Here I invited a ghost
To stand beside me,
To shoot the breeze
Like patio beers at
Mid-summer dusk.
Consciously I rolled forward.
I opened to daylight
Lapping at the heels of
My unwanted recollections
Where I groped my way home
With tender affection
And battle wounds
Bourn amongst
Leftover scrapings
Upon my wall.
Tall and Proud (day 917)
And into the hills I plunge my sword;
A ghastly and devilish sharpened thing
To ward off the demons of ghoulish sorts
That steal the plains of peaceful dusk
And mock the winds like cackling hens
Where do you want my heroes badge?
Shall it grace my green lapel upon
My suit of honor, ragged and dry?
I came here with a confident grin,
Now leaving I shall gaily step
For with my savagery, my valor, I’ve done
What no man here had done before;
Rid these lands from evil plague
That held your heads towards the sky
In search of reasons, and a warning sign
Though, while my road may long become
Legends of I grow tall and proud
A hero here, a myth there,
A legend told by fire lit, aye
Maturing ears of eager years
So if you come against the rush,
Some words of our heroes tests.
Will you encourage the legend on?
Trace it’s depths to the devils grasp,
Then onward ho! Triumph.
Long Forgotten (day 749)
Will you still love me when my hands have burned to dust
Love is sadness that carries golden rays of sun towards dusk
Did sounds of heartache keep you awake at night
Blood oozing from hands that toiled for your fortunate future
Will you still love me when my hands have wrung themselves dry
Sitting here dancing with eyes around the moon tonight
Our dreams dressing up in black and white shoes
Placing our love into lust into locks of curly golden brown hair
Twirling ourselves round and round to the tune of trumpets in summers night air
Will you still love me when my hands have curled against time
Sheltering our eyes against the hours of sunlight
Carefully pulling apart leaves that shelter the garden
Shaking away caterpillars nibbling on precious shards of life
Will you still love me when my hands have burned to dust
When history remains and old friends have long forgotten
Will you still love me when my hands have burned to dust
When the story ends will there still be a thought
Will you still love me when my hands have burned to dust
Into the Dusk (day 423)
From out beyond the wind swept distance
A lone figure walks steadily
Into the day I dream a bit
Of what could be their mission
Perhaps it was to seek an answer
Perhaps it was to wander
Perhaps there would be no way to solve
This riddle, even living in the shoes
The figure that I watch go
Pauses every now and then
Watching up, towards the sky
As companions keep the way
And I, a bystander, silently cheer
While the sun continues to whip
Towards the West, the horizon: bold
The light we cannot hold
For there we charge
Into the dusk
The eyes that cannot see
From here we lurk
The empty land
As the sun it cannot fill
The marching time
Shall soon present
What then shall escape us no more