Amorphous

Amorphous

We were a spark conceived
From the scope of ether
Rift of dreams that
Navigated separation, changing worlds
I could not seduce you

Amorphous, you were like
Waters through my hands
The ache of happenings

Unreachable, impenetrable
The bubble of too many lifetimes
Your papaya body would be
For others to touch, your tomato kisses
Would be for other lips to suck

The sweetest offers were fleeting
Amorphous, you are, you were
Like a gentle breeze on my back

That I could not reach or sleep inside
A plum tree with forbidden fruit
How sweet the fragrance of your need
Out of those hairy recesses where stood
A triumphant mound of flesh

Free from martyrdom and servitude
Free at least and for what
Soul beneath all kisses and wine

Night-long and aching across distances
I as if with old passion must depart
Too intimate the rose-bush
Too immediate those heaving breasts
We are a spark conceived to alter
The sense of touched destiny.

The Death of Love

Now we return to what we were
A solitude, very gentle, very dear
It’s all I have, like an animal without
The language of love, primal

So instead, I fall consistently –
In love with words, like little vows
That I will write again, to live
Now I return to what I am

A solitude, an oracle of isolated inner beauty
There will be no prophecies which wash
Over the night, or rise at Noon
Only, the little gains of meditation

A finality to be invisible
Or create autonomy as an order of survival
The earth has vanished, I am alone
Nothing proves I am alive

I become transparently slowly rippling
My years away, though I’ve
Come to cherish them, tenderly
They say at the threshold of birth

We come into the world alone
Now I’ve come to terms with certain things
Like birth and death, and the necessity
Of loving or falling back to only, loving ourselves.