Her eyes can spell


Her eyes can spell

Her eyes spell the soft white fluff
Between sentences, the surmise
Of silence, the soft empathy
That floats like a whisper towards you

She does not exist for you
She incarnates in women and will
Do so for all eternity
They who watch shooting stars and aurora borealis

Who wake up at dawn to serve
A family whose mission isn’t sure
I could just watch them eternally
These eyes of yours, your eyes

That spell and spy and watch
With a regard to pure, attuned
To the simple things, the natural
Body language of serenity

We’d be lost without regards like yours
And I cannot even say we’d have each other
Her eyes are like a foreign language
They rest on me for a moment of wonder

My wonder to be seen by eyes like this
And it stays with me for the entire day
To be spied by a watcher such as those
A pair of nectar-soul eyes you know
That can paint peace with just a look.



I don’t know the etiquette
of how eyes meet or for the first time
if they sparkle especially or

if I wore glasses the first time we met
I know I saw you with my intrinsic
looking as if I could pierce
your inner beauty, nor am I biased

I don’t know the business of eyes
beauty has been so over-rated
for so long, thanks to an evolution

but I know the last time
I look inside my heart, you’ll be there
with Asian eyes as deep as
India, China, Japan, Korea

so distinct like laughter of another culture
i don’t know the etiquette of eyes
but mine are drunk brown

not twin-cold blue or milk of salt
but chesnut-star, desire with the tip
of reaching across the universe.

Photo courtesy: http://www.deviantart.com/art/The-Night-s-Eyes-II-129117202

The Long and Partly Unlyrical View


Now that I wear a thicker skin
From heartbreak, can you fault me
To look with sexual eyes
At your sad and thoughtful yielding
I touch your hair, with hard hands

And I listen to the warmth in your voice
I know you are young, but you have
Learnt so well, not to be too clingy or distant
Your fish-soul is welcoming me in
A long dark tunnel of easy choices

By the elements of your freedom, I can breathe
Without making you are martyr, anytime soon –
Now that I wear a thicker skin
I won’t tell you about my most intimate troubles
I’ll reserve them for a psychiatrist

Who believes in promised lands, anymore?
Now that I wear a thicker skin
Let me pause, astonished, over your naked body
And remark on how I might never fall in love with you.

A Last World of Spring


It’s too late to cancel them now
Isn’t it? The birds of spring, sing
Like a mindful entry into the passage
Into summer, May will be coming soon

Reflected in the water of the buds
Fields of division among the twigs
It’s too late to wait up for it now

Isn’t it? The broad gestures of metamorphosis
There are no taboos in Spring
It walks into us from the inside

Sobering with sensuality, green effort
Hazards of the course of threshing floors
Of desire and clarity of impulse

It’s too late to cancel it now
Isn’t it? No more fence-sitting for us
Ambushed by the teeth of flowers

Like a perverse playroom before summer light
I can dwell here a while, to taste
The nearest stars in your liquid eyes.