Like the Last Day of June

Before you know it, it will be high summer
With blue shooting stars
At your fingertips
The air will smell pungent
Like wild mustard seeds

And it will be hot, hot enough
To stain your blouse with sweat

And you will feel warm and tingly all over
A hay fever of your femininity
There won’t be much to say
Not when we’re naked
On the last day of the jazz festival

There will be fireworks in another part of town
But in your bedroom, zippers will

Unzip, water against water
Skin to skin, before you know it
Evening will touch the last day of June
And you will whimper, and you will swoon
And I’ll be the one, stripping you
Your panties moist with excitement.

I Would Like to be the Air that Inhabits you for a Moment

I would like to watch you sleeping
But for that to happen, you’d have to let me in
Let me into your life, learn to trust

Have me near indefinitely –
I’ve been lonely for too long
I would like to sleep with you

A smooth dark wave drifting over us
My toes on your heels, my arm
Over your hip, your hair – in my face

I’ve been sleeping alone, on a hard bed
Staring at poverty, nobody stares back at me
I would like to watch you sleeping

On those days I stay up, thanking
Someone out there, for keeping you here
Because I fear the watery sun of abandonment

Every month you stay, is a silver star
In my heart getting stronger, more alive
But there are no promises, when you make

Somebody else the center of your dream
I would like to watch you sleeping
But right now, you are sleeping with somebody else.

No Remedy for Being Human

We couldn’t contain the sunsets, or
The sunsets were lost on us
So stranded were we in our personal tragedies
We didn’t stop to let beauty matter

Grudging and thin, we wanted
Our place in the hierarchy
The artificial world we created
Inside of nature, unnaturally warped

By being a consumer, by exploiting others
We didn’t have the time, or
The sensitivity, to let the light in
The swirling colors, they

Existed outside of our ambition
Our pressure to be respect-worthy
We weren’t artists, we were just people
Trying to be normal all the while.

The Hollows Made By Lovers in us through Harsh Words

Once you have learned these words
You will forget silence
Like learning heartbreak
You will renounce love

These are true stories of living
The word hangs like an anchor
It is used against us like a weapon
The very same voice you once served

Once you have learned these words
You will know the language of humanity
They will shape you to be insensitive
And burn a smudge of orange across your face

Every time you forget the rift of inner beauty
You will die a little more to the child you once were
Before language, before symbols corrupted you
You hold yourself between these two words

One silent, and the other an action
So be careful what you say, knowing
How words once damaged you, be gentle
To those closer to the silence
To those more fresh from the source.

It Was a Quiet Way

I am a soul at the white heat of time
My spirit the symbol of the finer forge
That loves more the blaze

Of designated light, than the forms
That trickle here, trickle there
I am the last body of the village of paradise

A generation baptized by universal themes
One port from a billion destinations
The frequency of the architect-gardener

I’ve been to Heaven’s ruby paths
Swam in her dawn-oceans of blazing dew
I felt the charity of atoms, and smiled

At the qbits of smart destinies
My last refuge was the diamond snow
That saw everything as a gift of life.

Notes to Hands I cannot See

I am a beggar for experience
That drop like stars from some beyond
The dropped flakes of virtual minds
We meet more people, every year

I am a beggar for the Color Green
Who tells me secrets of dying syllables
The poetry of admitting wombs
That are not fertile, nobody is perfect

I am a beggar for life’s true worth
To find the deep meaning, behind the chatter
To eclipse the tremors of expectation
And love the gravity of life’s uncertainty

I am a beggar for higher lands
A divine Ferret whom I cannot find
A spiritual paradise of some extremity of mercy
A novel woman who welcomes me home

I am a beggar, because of what I perceive I lack
Toyed in the final inches from love
This is my letter to the world
Of what I risked to gain savory everything.

The Black Riders of the World Government

Pursuing the horizon
I was disturbed by futility

In all the splendour of the worlds
This is what we became

Making quaint progress
Heeding outdated hierarchies

Yes, I heard a thousand tongues
Calling doom, heralded by economic collapse

There were no soft gardens
In these troubled times

The speed of change allowed
Second travelers with us

Pursing the future was not
The open answers of kind eyes

But a monarchy of sterner kingdoms
Than the Earth had ever known.

Till the Broken Creatures Part

I’ve grown accustomed to the dark
To witness enormous Goodbyes
The constant pain of remembering
Who you were, what you taught me

Life steps always straight
While we curve around nostalgia
For the newness of the night
Finds me erect for novelty

I’ve grown accustomed to the dark
Or something altered in sight
Now misery is my last response
A constant reminder of having felt home

With you, your light no longer
My witness, those months have ended
I remain knotted for the remaining years
An uncertain grasping for something that wasn’t there

By accident or by hidden gains
I’ve grown accustomed to the power of dream
That is the last action of remembering.

We All Arrived from Grandmothers

How noteless is this life
The Real is an instinct of locality
All a question of proximity
And sense to spirit integration

I’ve forgotten all odes familiar
Whims to bloom, and buttercups to smell
I’ve spurned Daises and rules of Noon
With Recollection of your numbness

How irreverent and cordially anonymous
Is every moment from the next
That fancy and sunrise
Are simply doors left ajar

This world a simulation of requests
That you disdain men, and I find women
Like Oxygen, necessarily toxic.

Hafiza Sundered Hope

Unbroken as a new settler
I was a guest of Infinitude
With some weeks & months
To teach you, the triumph of the Birds

My soul that asked your shelter
Adored by my solemn honesty
I entered your Dining Room hopes
But only could offer you crumbs

The sunrises scattered me
You wished I would part
So I left with the little dignity
In my small library of hope

I left a bookmark to your name
The humble fuel, for the poetry of a lifetime.

The Heart’s Gamble of Superior Instants

She died at play
This heart, gambled away
With vestments of silver breeze
That flew and cried treason
And I have ceased to wonder why –
I only miss, out of sheer loyalty
For this – accepted breath
And lovely incompetence
These adamantine memories
And queries, was I ever loved?
She died at play
This heart, gambled away
I’ve tasted liquor never brewed –
Though I don’t drink
Chastisized by love’s ecstasy
Reaching late for flowers
Of women abused, chambers empty
The ocean of affections
Smiles dearly at my conceits
Devotion is a colossal substance
Of our love’s immortality.

Not With Your Foreign Wings to Shelter Me

Beneath sentiments better left, unsaid
Untouched like some dead weight
Beneath the rubble-fields of battered words
That amount to little more, mere memories

They are not tangible, precious, or alive
But constrict me from the inside
Let them try to pronounce a winter of hurt
For a floundering of spring, yet to be

With fevered heart, let them melt away in summer
Clang shut eternal gates of love, forever?
Yet, for all that, trust shall come again, as ever?
With nostrils of bleeding gold, for rich rewards?

You will not appear again, with that dusty mantle
Of golden olive skin and pouty eyes
I am sick of dissipating you in mere fantasy
As blind as I ever am, a prelude and a requiem, or a preface
Where my luckless touches, touched a foreign woman’s shore.

My Opaline Vision

There are views and sighs
Where the vistas is still your face
There are coastlines where the waves
Are the most celebrated musicians
There is music in all these things
Liquid prayers cast off by nature’s harmonics

I can feel them in your cheeks
And in the higher clouds
Would you notice in an open heart?
The frequency of our becoming
Ancient layers where love already took place
And was sealed in children and dust

The shared labour of our tribes?
There are places that are fountains for the sun
Where the vistas is still your face
Burned in my memory like indulgent springs
The angles of your pouting discrepancies
You were the darkness that burned in me
To cool my wild-fire of doubt.