Wanderling❁

In vain

 

---

in the midnight hour

my hands struggle

to keep up with my heart

and just when I'm convinced

I have the borders of your body

crossed

into memory, infinite

I look into your eyes

and

fuck

---

 

this is how i love

 

---

can you still read my eyes

and understand

my only wish

is you lay your sorrows in

my hands and

with me

watch the light fade

---

 

coming down

 

---

I beg to know what it is

about me that he adores

and he says I remind him of the

late summer sky

crying

as its only way of reaching

out to touch the earth with rain,

this thing of sad beauty

---

 

the end of hesitation

 

 

---

do you see how the morning breaks open

how these paths unveil

shyly, and then -

emblazoned with wildness

now, I leave to do the same

(follow, if you can)

(don't miss me, if you cannot)

---

 

photo: Kilpatrick Hammock trail at Kissimmee Prairie Preserve State Park, january 2018

como la luna

 

 

---

“… como la luna

encuentro a mi mismo

en fases

a veces, en plena flor

pero, bruscamente

oscuro y lloroso

te suplico que encontrar

una constante

para tu alma

porque un dia,

estas poemas

sus besos

no seran suficientes

para tus conseulos…”

 

 

“… like the moon

I find myself

in phases

at times, in full bloom

but, suddenly

dark & weeping

I beg you, find

a constant

for your soul

because one day,

these poems

his kisses

will not be enough

for your consolation...”

---

 

 

illume

 

---

the wind calls you beautiful

it must be true

for when you walk

something blooms

like a flame

and when you dream

the clouds rearrange

 

unleash your seraphic

fires & floods,

and recall the rising sun

giving no thought

to matters smaller

than her own light

---

 

percipient

 

---

something you should know:

affection has not blinded me

and I only look the other way

with unmoving lips

because I see how small

all the noise makes you feel,

how much softness you need

and I know you didn't expect

to still be in my bed

the morning after

perhaps I'm just a hedonist

yet, sinning in the night,

sometimes twice, painting the wall

the color of love is

something I wouldn't undo with you

then, I accept what fate awaits

but should you make a fool of me

well,

see you in hell

---

 

tantric

 

---

for jealousy,

loathing,

other small, hungry

emotions

I have no time

but I am

about to rage

star-like

and you cannot stop my dance

burning away what I feel

is the only way I know

back to myself

---

 

agnihotra

 

 

---

and when you look at me that way

I become aware of

the fires & the thousands of suns

circling the base of my spine

the heat of my own chest

I cover my ears

to listen -

those delicate vibrations from glowing

embers beneath my bones

and I close my eyes

to see -

the worlds that blaze

my own furious reflection

that will never allow me an ordinary life

the blissful condition

of a goddess seated among men

---

 

a memory of a dream

 

I call as soon as I get home, just like you asked me to. When you answer, I can hear you smiling.

“Hey, how did it go?”

I try to reply, but the sound gets stuck in my throat.

“Hello?”

I sigh. “I’m here.” I shift the phone under my ear, pressed against my shoulder, and stretch both of my arms on the table.

“Don’t move,” you say. “Ten seconds.”

I have my head in my arms when you ease your way through the door. The familiar metallic click of the lock and the soft thud of the door and I wait to hear your shoes come off. But there’s no sound.

You stand right over me and wrap your arms around the huddled mess of my body and all I can breathe in is your earthy, faintly spice-like scent.

Nudging my neck with your nose, you ask, “Can I read you a story?”

I lift my head and look into your brown eyes. I smile back.