Embers of Your Heart (day 3085)

I wanted to climb into the embers of your heart so badly
That I wrote your name in ink ten times
And spoke to the Gods the colour of your eyes.
Your hair bound me in embrace,
And when I took my breath back inside my soul
It was your braided hair with its loose end
That was my direction home.

Each peak of the surrounding alps pinched the crisp air
So vividly, so clearly, that the tingling
Felt within my altitude heart
Brought a reverie so daring and honest
That even the Sun began to expose a pathway
Leading from my very spot to your omnipresent aura
I could feel beside my soul.

Various shades of darkness rode the wave of mystery
Deep within the bowels of a murky and eerie call,
And the source of each ripple floating outward
Seemed to be the very depth of my footsteps forth
Enticed by my soul belief that your chasm,
Your pulsating organ of electric arcs
Was my guiding orb I could see
Even as I swallowed water as breath
And traced the silhouetted branches
That floated above my remaining thoughts.

Garden of a Feast (day 2629)

I found you in a golden garden
One stacked high with perennials
One that flowed with vibrancy
– Spring was settling in.

You found me in the old archives
Ink upon paper written long ago
Notably of some used hardware
None found though plenty had been spared.

Through spells we found each other growing
As tomatoes upon the vine
Spring now Summer in swollen pride
Ripened enough for a feast.

Black (day 2324)

I want a house designed all in black
I want to cover any colors, exposed
With ash, stain, darkness,
Shou Sugi Ban
– A blackness that cannot be rubbed off –
I will tint the windows
And dim the lights,
Burning only black candles.
Nothing new will enter this house
Nothing fresh or alive
Nothing that will shed light
On the depth of this hallow
Forever written in black ink
Upon black dyed paper.
I will eat only black beans
That will sit upon a black plate
Of black rice beside black olives,
Occasionally a loaf of pumpernickel
Will be permitted within.
I will wash with black soap
In a tub of black pearl
Dried by a black towel,
And my sheets of black cotton
Will rest quietly below
My duvet of black duck feathers
For my black soul
To sleep, evermore.

Stained Messenger (day 1856)

I’m beginning to like the taste of ink on my skin
Bleeding in black
And letters wrinkled symmetrically
With stamps that now stick
To the wings of an unnamed messenger
I have envisioned as Hermes
In a short and stubby auto
With running shoes and arch supports,
And a stripped button up
With wings emblazoned upon the breast-pocket.

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