Groping, you chose me to be the statue of all allegory, just by the habit of immersing myself in your sea at the end of the world; I lose my head beneath your bare stare and with each step I become glass to be ground
By chance were I not your favorite lover, the one who advances sans hesitation to nestle inside the hatch of your hand just as it snaps shut, were I not your favorite lover who bites to sip the venom from your wounded heart would your palm open?
Oh tie me down so that I do not go away every time I hear your thieves song, singing at the expense of day, I confuse sand and snow, wolves and shadows, your hand on my shoulder, and it’s too late to turn back to set my hours by the sun, now you have marked me with your secret alphabet, and now I belong to the tribe of those who dwell inside the radiant darkness of those who look their best with eyes closed, lying alongside the edges of all abyss, languid to watch ravens fly away, never to return before the Dove of the oblivious moon
I am Streaming silent Radiant longing; I am streaming helpless prayers I am pretending to tear down all the fragile dams so tenderly built to protect your precious treasures
I love your mind’s measures, it’s restless order calls to me, come to follow and I will take your lead take me to our love that brings us to meet in temples where the sun still sleeps in ancient stillness among tombs,
I love your reason’s wise madness, I love how it breaks and re-constitutes me into your architecture of passion, this is the price of your love saved up and mine taken at the cost of my life,
You living like a lonely child inside the pit of my heart, I love you even when I am a veil of rain inside your laughing eyes, I love you with purest unity, portioned without cut and without any returning to my destiny
I love how your love takes us to the sharp dangerous edges of your soul, nearby, our guardian angels bend down in blessings as every safety promised by God is allowed and made manifest under your stern gaze, and I inside your heart, this is where I sleep, forever here.
As a Light that always goes In front, if I take you by the hand, will everything be suddenly simpler? The people, nicer, their wordy evils turned to hardened lava under their tongues, yes, as everything is done by the hand.. take my hand under this lamplight of love,
as from the black clouds, rubies and gems pour out , as from my eyes your bottomless sorrows fall into me; without your face before me, as beneath each darkness of my eyelashes, gardens bloom from blood rains pouring down around my booted soul,
my love, what does a bubble in the ocean know about the sea? what does a handful of sand know about the desert? Books are destroyed, statues pulled down, banned poems break like glass ..what would even a child learn from all of this desolation?
I just want to be as a child for you, as a Light that always goes in front, I will take you by the hand until we are both transparently, light as light as places that have no names in being, as essence as far from evil just so you can stop and wait for me.
Blushed eyelids, stripes of kohl.. Colors of stigmata inside caved silences violet stained red, horizons of absence, this world is not mine
The trees of Eden do not grow in this Garden and the soft breaths and the heaving bosoms of flowers ignore my begging, claiming, but yes!, you are the fruit of roots growing out of deep nights descending the blind stars
Oh great Mother Night! daughter of Mercy, pity
our mechanical Egyptian arms, our drunken glass eyes turned to the walls, reading hieroglyphs between the drawings, laughter reigns over this underground cavern of souls our days of invention crashing soundlessly our earthenware bearing resemblance to the shamelessness of all shareable destructions
I belong to the tribe of those who dwell in radiant darklight dawn, Nights and days with eyes open under the unbearable blinking of the sun, watching for signals in the sky,
The shadows of a dozen dazzling eclipses on the face of time, the whitelit thunderings from God raging against a painted planet’s eyelashes
I’m on fire, I am reduced to ashes The blooded bird takes her flight disappearing inside a skylit ring worn on the hand that paints the soft grains in between light and darkness: I live inside the eyes of a world the eyes of a world where a man takes no prisoners when he dreams.
The demon of mockery dragged you into the dust to defile the noblest image of humanity.
The spirit of this world is eternally at war with all that is beautiful all that is good and great: it does not believe in God or in celestial spirits, it wants to steal from the heart all its treasures, as it destroys all beliefs by attacking all illusions.
But poetry, of humble birth like you, is also a pious shepherdess; She covers you with all the privileges of her divinity, she surrounds you with a procession of stars, and spreads her glory around you …
O you that God’s heart made you will live immortal!
The world likes to obscure everything that shines, to cover everything that rises with it’s mire. But fear nothing!
There are still good hearts which quiver with sublime and generous actions; Momus delights the multitude, a noble spirit cherishes only noble things.
My heart was tired of finding no one, My eyes were tired of being disappointed.
One night, I wandered, thoughtful and dreaming through sleeping plains; in the distance, snowfalling on red horizons before the growing dawn,
In the shadows, I was slowly stripping away memories of my loves, and when I was done, I looked behind at what remained when suddenly, I saw Him, calmly and serenely walking slowly, weariness enveloping Him
I saw Him.. He came to me.. reaching out His arms, hugging me; His eyes closed as if to see further than reality, He spoke to beg me “Let me see your blue eyes in the night”
Silver stars rose from the earth … They say there are skies under which no man can live, but I never saw them when He smiled, He loved the azure of my eyes, and nothing in the world was ever more intense than this.
The curve of your laughter draped around my heart, dancing and sweet the halo of time resting and safe, so safe that I no longer remember all that I know; your eyes see me in the day dancing with the falling leaves
At night you are my halo ring the moon among the dews upon the soul of time, a night cradle and safe because your eyes see me I become the wind in the reeds, the fragance of the bees’ honeys
Your Mithra wings covering the world in light extending over the sky, the sea and all skies and seas because your eyes have seen me I become the source of all colors, and fragrances hatched in brooding aurorae nestled in the straws of the stars, and now I know how each day depends on innocence, the whole world depends on our pure eyes and all of our blood flowing into the seeing of this world
I dreamed I went back in search of four bass guitars I once owned that were my favorites. All but one were black, the other red. I was moving north on River Road, with Grocery Outlet on my left, searching for and recovering lost instruments and lost time. N—— from church was in the dream. It’s interesting how people we underestimate in daily life appear in our dreams, as fresh and vibrant as if holy and heroic. River Road itself appeared green with life and sunshine. The scene at the intersection of that and Silver Lane was nimbused or haloed with spiritual energy, like the circle around the full moon, except more like the sun’s corona. There was a glowing aura about everything, all green and yellow like a sunlit lawn in the summer. And there was I, trying to recollect the pieces of my broken life, when maybe the…
Dead wings, dead wings, to fall is to be reborn out of bright solitude and dropped into the sea The memory of the earth is a weight of waves and islands; in my blood and in my bones, the weight of my incarnations is stronger than my will to be unique, it breaks me, destroys me reminding me always of my place.
I am the mother of lost souls and prisoner to my faults, my beauty and to my will; transparently walled, my cells of life delivered by innocent death spoiled by joy before the open grave of the earth, the sea and the air and so docile, docile like a stone, an angel or a even a star; to fall is to be reborn drawn into the deepest of deaths into birth and to life, it is all the same sleep, a unique grace which bends the paths of heaven to the curve of the earth; Even my highest desire is subservient to the peace of love which governs storms, wars and the birth of wings
Alternate realities do exist, not in other dimensions, but in the minds of every living organism (be it sentient or otherwise). Our individual realities are constructed within our minds, attempting to process, or make sense of, a massive flow of information, at a speed equal to it. "Reality" is what we perceive, rather than an actual plane of existence or awareness.