Ashes dance in the midnight sky,Whose inky waves rippleWith the wailing wind. Fire roarsAs it cascades down the hills, and the forestWhirs with commotion. Birds and beastsOf every fur and feather flee For the babble of the river. But the blazeEncircles and traps.Its fingers splayed, orange and red,Pull leaf, lumber, and those still livingTighter tighter … More To Ruin
When the curtains of night fallOver the sky, you join meBeneath the covers. Your hair,A feathery, blond down, drapesOver my shoulder, and your gossamer touch Slips across my skin as a shadow Shifts across the floor. When I shut My eyes, you speak to me in a coo.Scents of heather and rose hipBillow from your … More In My Head
The sparrows flitAmidst autumn grovesOf ash and of oak.Their songs slipLike a gossamer breezeThrough the branches,Whose outstretched armsEmbrace the tuneWith rosy fingers splayed. Beneath the boughs,On a bed of moss,I drift into reverie.The shade is thick,The leaves fall,And the sparrows sing on. I listen with one ear perkedAnd another nestled in dirt.Sleep will take me.Winter … More The Sparrows’ Song
Like searching backwardsInto the ever-fleeting past,Memories bright,But dimmer every day.Like gazing forwardsOver the boundless, blue sea,Where the sun setsOn crystal islesKnown only to the sand and surf.Like staring up,Beyond the black void,Where the star ways swirlInto glimmering formsWhose beautyNeither mind nor hand can grasp…Darling, I look at you.
The sun shone brightIn early daysWhen gilded dragons swamThrough endless skies.And the nights were darkAs papa’s coffee. Monsters lurkedIn all the shadows,Claws twisted and sharp.But the covers offered A warm, snug havenFor my mind to wanderOn and on. Love burned hotIn early days, drunkOn ladies’ laughter.The flick of a hipOr the touch of their gazeCast … More In Early Days
Since then, the air tastes Of mince pies And mulled wine. Winter snow, Skin white, Tickles my nose With a faint, floral perfume. Since then, the sky glows A glossy rouge, and the streets Curve like a woman’s thighs. The sparrows sing In girlish trills, and the doves Talk in a lover’s whisper. Since then, … More All the World Makes Me Think of You
Your touch Lights a flame Whose drunken tongue Slides across my chest, Whose feverish hands Grasp me In a hot embrace. You ask me Why I’m silent. But your words Are half-deafened By the crackle of fire In my veins. I feel it Smolder in my skin And stifle My breath. You gaze down With … More Your Touch
Tulips spring From the morbid earth, Their leaves fleshy and green. One by one, Their petals splay, Tender to smell And to touch. And all the while The sun rises On weepy skies And wind-choked streets. Brown and decrepit, The grass lies low, As bulbs beyond count Slumber in ground below. Alone, The tulips stand … More Before Their Time
A porcelain face lives On the ceiling above my bed. When I lie back, I see Its blue gaze Stained into the sheetrock, And I wait And wonder when The stare will stop. Soon I fall asleep To the caress Of its breath on my brow, And fingers, I imagine, Trace paths through my hair … More Only Sweet Memories
Past the thorny brush In Oakwood Hollow Lies a silver pool Bathed in starlight. Shadows Dance while the streams froth, And a bitter wind scampers Among the leaves. A lonely traveler stops To wipe his beaten brow. The path has lost him And his wits have left him, For in circles he walks, Around and … More The Silver Pool in Oakwood Hollow
He Who Wanders 