The Day Ends

islands beckon me
shadows on the horizon
as I drift westward

Thought

Listen not to the poets
they are but martyrs to madness
who would have you burn too.

The Garden

I enter the gardens of heaven
where sin and virtue are blossoms
of the same trees,
though painted in different hues
their bouquets are quite indistinguishable
from each other, and a piety of heart
offers no protection from their perfumes.

Dark

I taste the poison
passionate uncertainty
blackening my heart

I submit to death
a lover in the darkness
with a cold embrace

I am born once more
roused by immortal fingers
caressing my flesh

Equinox

the accord is struck
night and day agree on terms
Spring may come again

Meditation

I breathe still,
yet the air is cold and lifeless
my breast rises and falls
imitating life (as best it knows)
while waiting on the heartbeat
that will break and fail
after the final breath released.

Blossoms

voices travelled upon the breeze
and landed as scattered blossoms
fine and silken upon my ears
in their gentle music
I heard springtime
and wept…
for winter was not done.

Blue Hills

I beheld the bluest hills
uncharted by my memory
yet soothing of soul
in song of unfamiliar tongues
and dances of purest passions.

Thus in my strangest dream
I discovered destiny.

Process

my eyes close
and unseen
blood vessels
paint abstractions,
dark tendrils
black stems
that service no blooms
save those I may imagine
and cultivate as verse

Tides

the relentless tides
lovers are drowned in their waves
and turned into sand