Eternity is a structure of feelings

(alternative name: Flowers in December)

Like a frenzy of mischief, I to Hae.mi must succumb

For my bright tear-brimming eyes of surrender

I to her heart must roll in her winter-fire

Delivered into the anarchy of a maiden’s smile

Where temptation is not the blue clothes of destiny

But the starry ledge where together we knelt

In between time’s curves like serpents of yin-yang

Where I inquired of you how to taste the freedom, you simply said:

“It is what it is, and loves what it loves, time is the bearer of all gifts”

In the dark alley at daybreak I spied your naked feeling there

Where from your depths, your creative-spirit was bare

Like the untouched blue sky, or the morning’s glory

I was home for a moment, in seconds with you

And your voice soothed and aroused me instantly

And I was a long imprisoned poet of the people who knew nothing

But the power of a woman, and how she played with words.

I Thrum for News of You

 

Xiao Wei, since whomever

I did well by, I want to touch

The dewy blanket, the space between our lives

All night long, as if ~

The youth I can’t remember

Bid me farewell, they are the very ones

Who injure me most of all

That I long to hold most of all

Xiao Wei, if I cannot say your name

Then to whose voice shall I dispel

Come now, sing this, all of you

And add your voices for the ocean whales

And the life I would have loved

Had you been of my own culture

Had you been of my own care

The unmarried woman is, a prayer gone wild

For humankind, and maidens to keep a vigil for

The brides are gone, forever more

To the genes of old, they renew their force

In little faces, and mothering grace

But Xiao Wei, how much time is left?

Until you too walk the thorny veils

I won’t be able to hear your voice

Shaking inside my breast, for much too long

That I cannot speak any more,

When your tongue breaks down and you

Are silent, I thrum for news of you.

Untamed Time

 

 

 

Overnight where I slept

I felt the chill of eternity

Sweep through the years of this body

 

And my brain was only an experience

It wasn’t real if real things last

The love I had I gave to the Earth

 

To her children and the soil

Where I grew a garden in my mind

There was no love there

 

Just the thrill of a destiny

Broken and churned like

The pangs of creation gone un-nurtured

 

Sleep was like that in mortality

A kind of escape from the anxiety

Of living and not knowing how to

 

Create destiny with mere tools

And hope out of loneliness.

 

But With a Fraction of the Love

 

 

 

 

 

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.

 

A Brief Definition of Longing

My longings died for the youth
beautiful bodies aged and with
roses by the head, jasmine at the feet

time did not save anyone, longing passed
like the words of the dead, who lived
in the presence of sensual pleasures

so fleeting, temporary, the vivid aches
but radiant mornings drove us on
the timid imaginations of a lifetime

in blood flesh and hot striving for survival
exalted young sensualists have to become
something else, mystical longings

that have a difficulty defining the goal
a forbidden ecstasy of meditation otherworldly
where synapse kisses the universe

my longings died past mid-life
the beautiful angels did not age
the spirit would never die

love’s height lifted above a person
we would become separated forever

Photo Courtesy: http://www.deviantart.com/art/autumn-408633691

Like Water Forever Restless

And still we dream, comrades
And still we let the sun
Caresses us before the night
Enters us like hushed immobile years
Oh I know the sun’s breast

I’ve felt my manhood pulse
With the yearning of mountains
Gold washed is the fountain
Where I held you, the best
Of my everything, the height

Of my wealth, in poverty
Having you, was my last resort
Of a life without a companion
And still we dream, comrades
Of better times, while the sun

Keeps heaven’s azure rays close
Brisk is the air in the white-capped
Future, in the distance
Where love and the ocean pounded
To break on my heart’s shore.

You With Your White Energy (River in Heaven)

Sweetheart, was it you who told me
To Love all, trust a few
And do harm to none?
I’ve loved enough in twenty years
To die a lifetime of heartache

But your Sapphire summer-soul
Are the drifting forests of centuries
Of intimacy trapped in time
I find a dark honey in your words
When I touch your hips I feel

The opaque petals of my hurt subside
Like the sun multiplied in water
Sweetheart, I have modest dreams
Of a simple life, the epiphanies
Are getting shorter, more rare

Some of us will achieve greatness
Only in the quality of our love
To catch kisses in clusters of fruit
We know intimately how grapes might taste
But the tongue arrives at raspberries

When we touch someone whose soul
Is smooth from the waves, from
The caress of doves, intricate contemplation
Solitude, suffering, dearest I want us
To transcend mortality, for just a brief moment

And quench the scrambled blankets, feathers,
Sweet naïveté between us like soothing horizons
Why, O’ why do I trust you so implicitly?

Eros in Retreat

I am waiting for my white butterflies
Summer’s babble of small noises
Where I can feel insignificant again
Behind crickets and proofs of God

I’m hoping that timely intervals
Will save me from this grief
Amidst the healing weeks
Of mourning and mornings

I have the patience of heart-breaks
That fly with delicate wings
Of youth’s love-sheath so tender
Bemused by nature’s glory

I am waiting for my sampled flowers
That have no flaw, but their unchanging beauty
That diamonds are only accomplished
After eternities, epochs long enough

That they forget what they once were
I am waiting for my single aims
To be accomplished in-between
The death of memories, it shall be sweet

To no longer recall who I have been
Or why art mattered, why love was cruel
And how the seasons fell, little squire anti-climaxes.