But With a Fraction of the Love


 

 

 

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I’ve felt my life

In the murmur of a bee

And felt all my tears

 

In the eminence of a nest

And the daffodils blew color

Covert as April, or candid as May

I took my time to age and my time

Was plenty, in the solitude

 

Of antiquity, forgetting for answering

Only questions, guided me

At the breaking of the day

 

Where golden drops spawned

Longer looks and deeper searching

All for something immaterial

There is a flower which no longer blooms

It’s in my heart or should I say, it was

 

It’s gentle romance led me on

In the chivalry of my subjective warmth

Where I was not alone, nor humming birds left

 

The measures of days were not my smiles

My splendour was meagre, my heart

Was the moistness of oxygen

In your lungs, the breath that kept you sane

When life was a tyranny of choice until

 

There was none left and freedom hung

Like a low hanging fruit, of what our lives had become.

 

Unmentionables


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Unmentionables

Come slowly, into my life
Like a tail wind of all the charm
I always wished for, but never found
The church of my faith is dim

I could submit so easily to the right person
Reaching late for a flower
Round my heart that hums
And lost in balms I’d be

A secret for you to savour, dear
Lost I am lit for this
Counting stars and nectars
In solitude, but not alone

I would be united
In every drop of blood
With something of life’s mystery
Eros to harrow in my looks

Wild winds to sweet my fears away
Uprooted yesterdays, I’d be
Vengeance of all the thrift
You saved in your years

Of places you never went
And intimacy you always craved.

L i t t l e Acts of G i v i n g 


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L i t t l e Acts of G i v i n g

Love won’t be taken back
It was given freely like always
Gratitude behaved good today in your heart
It will circulate in you like a diamond cutter
Night after night, those positive affirmations

Are echoing poems with forgiveness
For this world that does the unthinkable
To bodies, lives, souls, communities

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I used to think about the aftermath of idealism
How pragmatists forgot their youthful selves
So in the meantime, I’ve found a recipe
For staying young, in the spring-values
Of a lifetime, the heart hoards roses

And everything else is secondary
And everything that sings is that which listens
It’s an aerial visitation of summer

And every word rolls in the mouth
Like a delicate poem, like a tender bud
Love won’t end, it’s not a pie to be divided
It’s a sheltered free-flow of freedom
We’ll move higher and higher until

iii

We breathe the stars with likeness
Our simplicity will be a high-speed review
Of identity and shared identification

We’ll be thrill on the narrow streamline
Of mortal nights, and dive into a hundred
Pockets of hidden meaning, arriving always
At a new state of wonder, that’s gratitude
Some part of the heart that finally
Learned to receive by little acts of giving.

To Let the World In Again


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To Let the World In Again

Just remember
When the times are hard
What about when
Dear heart, I implore you
What about when

The hills are pink
In Summer morning’s embrace?
And the valley of forgiveness
Rises before your fate
The world still stands

Luminous as ever
Notwithstanding your
Dramas, these and those
The leaves still open
Like the soft dresses

Of magical hands
Graced with the mystery
Of all that is ordinary
Just remember
When the times are hard

There is bounty and blessings
More than your little body
And tiny mind can imagine
What about when
Dear heart, I implore you
The sunsets spring up
To let the world in again.

Taiwanese Summer, Part III


I am waiting for a train
In the land of poetry and devotion
You left me here, traversing
The comfort of your past, your body
Your artful thumping heart
A fresh and vivid scenery once again
Assaults my senses, making me alive
Elongating my faith in nature
Like a strip of melons, ripe beans
Food of beauty, in the land of marriage
There were times when, I never believed
I would be a passenger in beauty
You say you only read classical poems
With the classics open on my lap
I want the purity of sky looks shattered
The traffic jam of trees, music, salt
I want the forest’s growing reliability
That only dies as part of her growth
I am waiting for a train
In the land of poetry and devotion
You who look more radiant than ever
A same dream with a plum flower
The pink hope of being reborn again
A total eclipse of the Moon and the Heart
At the dock of the riverbank, I smile
At how our eyes sparkle just to say goodbye.

Born by a Whim


The nailed roof of my heart
Is overvast with rain
Dust to clean
These bitter fruit away
I summon the sun’s lion paws
To scratch my fate
Back into blood-alignment
My heart hath
No commentary left
But stolen music
From lost noons
Notes from the moon
Momentary words
Writ on cold stone
My bustling boughs
Are an umbrella to nobody
I cannot protect myself
The mad intensity of
My soul will kill me
With lips against the glass
And youth letting the light out
My inward eyes are
Always crying
I’ve learned how to hate
Through so much love
Baring no cruel intent
I have been corrupted
By women and their calculation
The ice moves near
The center of my pain
I am now a male courtesan
With a secret contempt
For the revelation of the game
And the character is me
The heartbroken break hearts
An all-too-eager willingness
To polish youthful bodies
With the glow of centuries.

Ballad to Half-crazed Summer


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I am looking for Summer Nights
Where the moon will dangle these
Half-plucked eyes, with hearts thrown open!
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As if, bright friends might transport
The rapture back into these Wounded Skies
I can’t ask for much, or maybe Everything
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)
The eternal attitude of little human music
These yearnings which elevate time to Perfect Pitch
I am hunting Spring mornings for
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)
The tried and true naked stones, that glimmer
The Sun’s best Intrusion of happiness
Where light is a bull-frog’s croak of oblivious motivation
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)
Our bright flesh where there are no scars
I am looking for Mortal Embraces of hot July
Where I can let my expertise in simplicity go
.
)
Like a poem where words are said so beautifully
that I might as well be speaking the name of Love
That give themselves to life so intimately, we might
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)
Silence the blossoms on all lips, to climb stairs
Outside Plato’s cave to the throat of outside innocence
I am looking for Salvation, on the fly.

Sing Your Little Heart Out


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Heart, have you not sat
At the feet of other hearts?
Do you not know the pain

We all bear a part, our share
Or more, gilded to our golden tenderness
If you have suffered, know this:

To become more sensitive is a gift
To possess new vision for compassion
And more pearls for empathy’s sincerity

Heart, without your scales of highs and lows
Who would we be? Just another
Organized machine, artificial winner of what?

But Heart, don’t wander too long
Out in the market full of exotic perfumes
But focus on one intoxication, one purpose

That your secret parts might come to fruition
And you art of miracles, might manifest
Something genuine from your humble services.

Children from Zones of Paradise


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The Stars express around
Our fates like dwindling destiny
The Sun and Moon make their haste
Across our skies of personality

Why would that which is within
Not be without, and visa versa?
Of finer famines, I do not know
Astronomy and esoteric astrology

That points and shows, cosmic datastreams
That life’s nutrition is a matrix of relationships
Aspects, conjunctions, transits
These were the silver chronicles

Of the poor & far, patterns of our hearts
The veins and tissues of our baselines.

With the Language of the Birds


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There is an order of love
That knows no boundaries
It’s the serving that affirms existence

It’s being out of the senses
With gratitude, conversing with compassion
Where devotion is sustenance

And the Beloved is formless, and thus
Present at all peculiar times
The sagest source of moments

I’m half heart, and spirit
I’m half clay, and water
I met the Beloved last night

In an open field of dream
I was told to live like a drunken gypsy
That my true income was measured in Bliss

So I wobbled left and bobbled right
Not knowing how to do it
Until I let myself go a little mad
To live among strangers & lovers.

Till the Broken Creatures Part


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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.

The Heart’s Gamble of Superior Instants


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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


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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.

The Breakup


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And with a sudden emphasis
Of our sad geometry
Like an old flower in a tender vase
You threw me out the window!
Circumscribing our enormous debts

A lover’s never so beautiful
As when they look at you with cold eyes
As if for the last time
Kissing you on the cheek
Knowing that this will be the last time

But I must replay the excess that stops me with its dream
Love is fickle as the sea
Though it is my rite to everything
The one in me who’s lazy & distracted
And requires art & romance
To feel complete, or entertained?

Trapped by the impatience for another
As if experience could mount immortality
Into my forgotten heart
But like a pinned butterfly
Motionless and fragile
I may only beat my wings

Your child seemed surprised
I cried for him, the last look
And I have been debased
Lost to the vast circle of beautiful things

And with a sudden emphasis
The purest sigh, there was not affection

Here, waiting for me, at the other end of the room
In your eyes, only ruthlessness
Proof of a goodbye so grand
Your promises of friendship were like
The curtains you said you would tailor for me

Thing one says, when trying to be polite
To someone, you can’t be the other half of the world – for.

Under the Hands of Art


This rapture of the colors shivering
Strikes at the heart of my instinct
I secretly want to join

The future without consequence
To flood forward with the whims
Of imaginations not born yet

To strive, astonished and irreversible
Cutting all sense of abandonment
With the infantile revolt

Of seeking the last freedom
The hidden God within the eye-of-youth
Like a revolution of pure enthusiasm

I secretly want to join
The optimistic hoards of perfect melodies
A specter of notes, proverbs of lost moons

I give myself to quantum fragments
On a green canvas I plant my hunger
As an illusion, that no longer wishes to exist.