Category: All

She hovers,
held in her mother’s arms.
Airborne; dainty little bird.
Not yet terrestrial and no longer marine.
Not yet realized and no longer a vision.
She is future promise and obscure past,
fading memories and keen sensations, she is
billowing shadows from a submarine world.

She is here now, real now. Now
she is a creature of light and air and sound.
But for the remainder of her life she will dream
of silvery fishes,
of algae and slime,
of the dusky silence
whence she’s emerged.

To Lovisa

So many years I wondered why I was,
And blind I erred upon this barren land,
And numb I played my part by heart because
Without belief or faith one cannot stand.
So deep the secret hollows in my mind,
So cold and dark the tomb in which I lay,
Too dense the haze for light of any kind
To reach my eyes and help me find my way.
So bleak the morrow was until you came,
And brought with you the scent of summer rain.
And after that the world was not the same,
But new; forever new and without stain.
The day is young and spring will never end
And love’s too great a grace to comprehend.

Come hither love; give me your hand,
let’s wipe those tears off your cheek.
Let’s scold the ground for being rough,
then do something about your knee.

Do not give up your play for fear
of falling down or getting hurt.
For life is all about the leap,
and being familiar with the dirt.

There now, my love, your knee is clean,
soon it will heal and be like new.
We grow and change, we break and mend,
and thrive so long as we brave the bend.

That notion succumbed and sought
sheltered grave inside my thoughts.
Resin ran, lush, noxious
fragrance; the one thing that might make sense.

Sense! Dearest, lie close
by my fretful frame!
Sense and that scent, noxious,
noxious and lush. Dearest, hush!
And lie by me! Science explains
things such as these. Chemistry!
Synapses, neurotransmitters, enzymes—gravity!
Things that ruin the nerves, sometimes irreversibly.

Sense: Such a quixotic notion. A prehistoric fetish, buried
deep beneath a shaman’s shrine. Long lost and forgotten. Long
lost and forgotten.
Dearest! Lie close by my mind! Lie!

Mankind shudders at the sheer thought.
Ancient legends whispered by the side
of the crackling bonfire. Myths, terrifying tales;
hopeful incredulity.
But these things happen every day, dearest.
Here they happen daily.

Till F.

He is, in truth, a prince: from the Latin princeps,
Meaning first man, ruler, chief.
He is the man who comes before all others,
The one who rules my heart,
The chief object of my desire.
A word from him and I am ablaze.
A glance from him and I am on fire.

First I knew your mother,
before you even were.
I met her as she was crossing the lawn, I met her
as she was resting in the shade of the lilac shrub.
Every time I saw her, she was a bit larger,
a bit heavier, approaching the end of term.
And then, one day, your mother went away,
and hasn’t been seen since.
But what does it matter? You came,
a tiny, spiny, darling little creature,
with your moist black speck of a snout,
twitching,
your diminutive mouth, your teeny teeth,
chewing, chewing,
your little feet, your whiskers, your soft, furry belly.
I gave you a name.
I spoke of you—widely.
I captured you on film.
             I gave you a name!

To Paola, August 1988

Let me spread the rug before the crackling fire
So that we may sit side by side, as before,
And gaze at the flames straining ever higher
As they sketch our silhouettes upon the floor.

Your cheeks are glowing; your eyes are brighter still,
And so are mine, unless I’m much mistaken.
Without, a raging storm; the dark; the autumn chill;
Within, an orb of heat and light that we partake in.

Let the fire be the only one to speak.
Leave the shadows skulking at the corners of the room.
It is not the silence that will make us weak,
But words that venture past our lips too soon.

When last we met, our faces were so smooth,
Few roads were yet engraved upon that map.
Now that we’ve labored away from our youth,
I hope we’ll find a way to bridge the gap.

My desire is a fruit
That fell from the tree
And burst on the ground.
My love is all around,
Succulent and free,
Sacred and sound:
Come give me a kiss!
 
Why, if I spend my days
Dreaming of your scent
And fondling the very air
Every second I spend and however I fare—
Take pity on me! A mere mortal I am,
And the flesh being weak—
Come give me a kiss!

Here's the Moon, in love with the Sea,
Her silvery tongue all over his face,
Deliriously covering his rugged face,
As she covets his depths and matches his pace.
With ardent, argent-y kisses she declares her hardened intent
But for tonight, and tonight only. For she means to leave no evidence
Of her boundless and shameless ardor
Lest her Lord, the Sun, King of the heavens,
Upon rising again on the morrow
To give birth to yet a new day may know
Either bitterness or sorrow.