Every time inside thy skin
I want to write your name
In black and white
Of an ancient script
Name that cannot end.
With every word in wright
Leaking through my pen
Letters never dare to dry
Strength that cannot cramp
My dreams return again, again,
Upon your ancient eyes.
Tag: pen
Early Confessions (day 2377)
I’ve been believing in you too much
Saturday night snakes around
Calling out each stop light blinking
Do you know me? – deep understanding.
Rummaging in my missing backpack
For an unused silver dollar
Where did my pens run to?
I’m not the same you used to be.
Hope here for a river running
Where my deepness cannot outstanding
Floating on my finally lasting
I’m now two pages confessing.
Flower in the Sky (day 2279)
Did I lose my sweet sunrise
My flower in the sky
Did I wish away a season
Closed my window for the storm
I cannot speak of my passing time
Set aside my ink and pen
Gaze off, afar in a dream
And wake before I see first light
To catch again the waking of
My flower in the sky
Books (day 2122)
No dear
Don’t open the book
To that page
Its letters were written
On old paper
With a pen
That’s known many names
Crossed out many lines
Filled hearts
And sunk boats.
Here
Try this book.
Cadaverous Embrace (day 1750)
I marked my diary with a black heart yesterday,
Signalling yet another loss of a piece of me
To a lancet, delicately embraced by a cadaverous hand
Tightly hemmed in mourning lace.
Upon my wrinkly pages I wrote of lament so thick
Leaves dropped freely in my eerie breeze,
And my nigh filled dipping pen
Opulently embarking upon saintly rites
Deep into the cold moon’s full embrace,
For this unsettled heart beat thick.
Sheets in Pages (day 1747)
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.
Letters with Hearts (day 1735)
I remember the golden letter
I signed my last goodbye with,
A script I was particular proud of
With a rusty ol’ dipping pen
Tied up with lies and eternity
And how many times have I chosen to
Wave goodbye to you.
So I stuffed mixed emotions
Into a ball into my pocket
Sat on it for two days
And mailed it with no address.
Traces (day 1581)
Stunning,
So I didn’t walk home alone.
A long song
To which I moved along.
Movement was the story I wrote
With my fountain tipped pen
Of legs
Of limbs
Of your traces left upon my skin.
Rolling Circles (day 1580)
I am beginning to observe this once again,
One two three one two three one two three.
And your elegance makes my romance
Waltz as a leaf in autumn’s light breeze.
Let this hand be lead for thee,
One two three one two three one two three.
And my pen write again because
Circles rolling down these widening streets.
“Late,” said the bus to a leaning signpost,
One two three one two three one two three.
And if recollections could be the bumblebee
Sun would soak yellow into sands of our memory.
Sun Caught Dust Spots (day 1300)
The Elegantarian floats on my memory,
Through wisdom and mercy
And dandilions caught in wind wasps.
And like these delicate pages
That curl around my intrigued thoughts,
I follow the trail of dust caught in sunlight
To the end of my memory
Where my lone pen carries onward.
