COMING HOME

 

when you find some one dead
there is a nexus between your mind
thinking, knowing they are alive,
then realizing they are firmly deceased,
there could be no denying it.

that cross-over, that switch
is ferocious in its speed,
but heavier than block lead,
it is a bewilderment.

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BURNING AN L WITH A MUSE

There was two
tawny coppers,
trussed,
peering behind her boughs
draped on sun-speckled
throat & shoulders.

Breasts, provident bronze
stilled like tacit fruit,
a vernal frame.

Her scentless scent,
ethereal,
poison in mute resonance,
poised in the graceful thought of night.

The moment prior to the bloom.
Earth & partisan parts
captured in muted symphony,
sending themselves about her;
their angelic center.

A sudden flit,
as cautious deer spooked
jet for the woods.
Green spotlight reflections
glint white & vaporize
behind each lash.

Burning auric fingers
briskly exchange
touch to incinerating chill.

With all the blood
in my body rushed,
fantastic plumes
from bell of the brain
knelling
through veins un-rung,
slowly purchasing frequency,
taking heavy sound to silence.

 

*   *   *

 

…was  masochism,
modest, delicate.
Sense-seduction
processed aesthetic
through the rose coloured glasses
and as my brain produced endorphins
was kissed with thoughts virgin to creation.

These blessed tortures
floated down like manna,
sopping honeycomb,
bee-less, fatted amber
in dying sunlight.

Her reflections red,
spark-rutty hazel
off the dusk through her trees,
stole brief moments in our cipher,
present & gone between us 
in wisps of smoke.