The Waning.

And there he was.
Gathering droplets, wet ,
of days gone by;
each trickle forsooth
a promised quenching.
Days on days ,years on years,
shaping, a bucket green,
of soft-gleaned strawlets made.
Then saw ,reflected,
in that darkling gloam,

that shimmering whirl,
his crescent moon..
A sudden storm, a thunderclap.
No bucket . No moon in the bucket.
Emptiness in his hand....

Bodies of love !!

I caress the darkness
of innocent forms .
I touch nothing .
Where the sniffle ?where the moxie ?
where the evanescing, dubious doxy?
So few are given us to love,
ah! so few, gods above.
And this the way we all survive,
touching the scabs of ancient wars ,
defaulting to the oldest scars .
Why is fate written in the body
and never , never in the stars ?

Ascent

My road ;
that dappled,darkling, winding stair,
a spiral out of cloistered growing,
upward to a tortured knowing.
There, around a corner unlit,
 hidden lurked some unlived days,
nostalgic shadows from the past,
yielding hsiens to devils cast.
A flight below the body's awning,
under the windowed ,tattered soul,
she whispered thru' a-veiling twill,
"let consequences spill how they will ".
And, panting I , a boy in love,
strung where the bee-mouth sips,
of tremulous hands and lucky lips,
tripped on doorsill of a dream,
clutched the hem of innocent charms,
and breathless folded in her arms.

Deep-sea Blues !

Were you fain,my love
to weigh pennies of truth
`gainst wages of blight,
a sifting sieve,
for honest darkness,
for sinful light ?

Flowing Savannah !
river of my longing heart,
row me along thy shorelines,
sputtering, half-drowning,
`mong fluming eddies of desires,
in urgent,lapping ,icy fires.

Suck me under,Whirlpool !
draw me unto thy silence--
thy tears my prayer--
and my elusive mermaid be,
string tied and fancy-free.

Amour-soft gossamer ,
my transporting metaphor,
melting ,soft-yielding,
coalesce,then just be,
my ambrosial flow
and, my final word :Thou !

Blushful Spring

Will you, my love ,
for just this once,
with my lillies blow,
flush pink in my roses,
rub memory's petals,
and, bashful ,glow ?
In that heart-warmed clover,
that darkling meadow,
where I died for love
under the dark cuppola
 of your mystic shadow,
will you, my love,
diaphanous wings a-sway
alight....and soft kiss
life's autumn away ?
Then gentle,unbenownst like,
un-nail my cross,
make whole the ruined,
and brooding find
the absent cosmos ?

Won't you, my love ..???

 ·

Just This Once....

When pleasure is not
a pattern ,nor
a Paradigm shift
from gloss,and , your loss,
methink you slurp with felinity,
sup with masculinity
and soft ,do purr,
blazing eyes a-blur
in anguished divinity.
Then ,for just a while,
I fondly smile,
polite to myself,
deceiving elf........

Contours of Time

Years. Again I stand
here, `neath my Jasmine bush,
a witness mute,
to a throbbing `then'
a still-born `now',
those falling petals,
ruined and marvelous,
all at once.
I reach across
the in-between,and,
soft trace a shape,
an angular face,
a tenuous belief
made real.
A double take, and she,
the inside-shake
of my ruined heart,
raises half an eyelid,
beams and ,breaks
into spots and dust.
Infinity.