When The Way Of The Heart Becomes Clear, The Deepest Secrets Of The Cosmos Shall Be Revealed

I.
Even the spectacular advent of True Love
brings with it the insidious undertow of fear,
that flotsam and jetsom of the hypervigilant heart,
those shipwrecked corners birthed by even the most jubilant moments,
once the decrepitude of introspection begins to scrawl
the image of entropy upon the stark corroding edges
that glisten upon time’s rushing arrow.

Forward we all march,
into the mystical arms of tomorrow,
striving to cup the quicksilver droplets
of Love in our hands,
the ferocious need to buoy our sinking hearts
with the magnificent joy of the present
echoing across the canyons of our thoughts.

II.
Oh,
how she makes
my capricious heart dance,
feet striking the dry earth
and sending the dust into the sky
like smoke signals telling the moon
to never let the night end.

III.
Moonlit and wandering,
I search the undulating recesses
of the shadowy evening,
hungry for the triumphant sustenance
of her invincible firelight.

As the sweetness of light bounces gracefully
off of the soft movement of her hands,
I am cast wildly into a magnificent cycle
of destruction and renewal,
the mesmerizing geometry of her face
filling my eyes with an ocean of cathartic tears.

IV.
A billion galaxies teeming with millions
of unique starry skies,
untold fingerprints on volcanic rocks,
smudges of sentient color
fleshed out into meaning,
splashed across the cave walls
in a terrific fit of knowing:
tiny moments blooming
with the vibrant legacy of expression,
stories passed down to the rhythm
of flames dancing in front of enraptured eyes.

As barren asteroids careen by
in the strange uninhabited darkness,
something still pulls at our hearts,
a never ending string of gravity’s caress
tempting our true selves to step forward
into the enormity and splendor of sunrise.

V.
Even as I reveal every weakness
of the collapsing star that is my heart,
you choose again and again to hold on,
to elevate all that I am with the unearthly power
of your transcendent adoration.

In your forgiving arms
I have become so much more.

In your flawlessly human eyes
the gift of a truly elucidated universe
splashes onto the astounding canvas
of my fluttering soul.

Starlight filling in our rambunctious steps,
oceans rising toward our devoted eyes,
we shimmer like an aurora unleashed,
gathering color and vibration in a flourish
of criticality that never seems to end,
but instead is reborn in an endless parade of entropic defiance,
a love that cannot be measured,
for the simple act of doing so
merely pulls back the curtain
and exposes the simple truth
that something deep inside us
has left the planet behind,
to exist everywhere at once,
to sparkle in every speeding photon,
to wiggle in every quantum fluctuation,
to freeze time with every kiss of a singularity.

I thought I understood everything
about this universe that I could,
bathing in reality’s stream until
I was fluent in the language of existence.

And then you woke me from a dream,
poured magic into my veins,
and showered my cosmos
with an understanding that
can never be found on the beautiful
but dusty pages of even the greatest books.

VI.
We are harmony.
We are stardust.
We are earthbound.

We dance in the flames of knowing,
winking at the face of the trickster
with smiles upon our resolute faces.

We stand up suddenly with our hands held high,
and shout out those words of daring
that once lit your way in the night when all was lost,
saving you from the darkness with the proud
and powerful howl of the living.

We are harmony.
We are stardust.
We are earthbound.

We dance in the flames of knowing,
winking at the face of the trickster
with smiles upon our resolute faces.

Advertisements

If Only I Could Shield My Eyes From The Velvet Horizon

I.
When the flames of loneliness rise from your chest,
erupt from your heaving skin like an explosion of autumn leaves,
that is when the icicles of time stab spring whispers
into the gyrating center of your starving pupils,
which launch hungrily upwards towards
the unattainable depth of the haunting night sky.

Oh how your arms fold and unfold,
attaching and detaching your hands
from the throats of the enemies of sorrow:

for tonight is a clock tower without hands,
with you as the frozen centerpiece,
entombed in idle thoughts which parade wickedly
across the graying spectrum of your billowing imagination.

II.
Enslaved to the demon of biology,
dragged down into the hurting pools of desire,
this heart bathes like a newborn in a gasoline-fed fire.

Full lips that kill.
Bright eyes that cannot fill.

Full lips that kill.
Bright eyes that cannot fill.

I break promises here under the night sky,
here in the underbelly of the universe,
I let it all go,
and begin to care for no one.

III.
This being,
this vessel of twisting desire,
is a brittle sailboat hurled by the winds of temptation,
destined to crash again and again
against the crunching rocks of despair.

Hydrogen,
with its conquest of the stars,
with its primacy in the scheme of the universe,
trembles in my eyes,
quenches fiery oxygen
to become a teardrop,
undescended.

This is a tower of life,
these are the stained-glass scars;

her eyes are the hammers
that bring this edifice crumbling down,
crumbling down.

IV.
And whenever I awake,
the tendrils of future despair reignite,
for I am whole,
I am whole again,
a vibrant Sisyphus heart-bound
to mountainous boulders of desire,
destined to yearn for welcoming eyes and skin,
which would hold us together
like the bonds between stable elements,
if only you weren’t a mirage in the shape of a woman,
shimmering so beautifully,
yet so cruelly,
tantalizing my spiraling heart with ephemeral promises
that flutter and disperse like a flock of birds,
leaving only a cloudy arrow of tender nothingness
which soars softly into the misty geometry of oblivion.

As Our Thought-Gardens Bloom, Jupiter Opens Another Of Her Stormy Eyes

I. Sometimes I Awake With Weeping Eyes Of Jade

 

There in the brooding darkness

pitch-dark lacerations appear in twisted streaks

against the mirror of my spine.

 

The tangled knapsack that hides

this hideous soul-carnage tumbles open

and the mirage of self dissolves:

as my fingers begin to puddle in circular rings,

the watery vibrations of this asteroid-filled symphony

crescendo into a wall of bitter violins,

ripe with the tender heat of resignation.

 

II. Whittling The Worn Wood Floor With Another Wandering Footstep

 

Stalking past the reaper’s molasses trap of gurgling regret

a haunting face appears and disappears in the black lava

like a million-year-old leaf,

unearthed and instantly oxidized

by the quicksilver rays of the morning sun.

 

Yet still I lift the veil,

still I lift the veil

just to feel the fleeting outline

of a human face bathed in obsidian,

drowned in the slow-cooked crude of consciousness.

 

Muddle,

muddle through

the eye of the needle

once more.

 

III. Here In The Trenches I Await The Killing Ether

 

Corpse rage clouds my eyes.

 

Icy thought-daggers hover relentlessly above,

coating this diamond sphere

with the spiked gravestones of indignation,

the only ammunition I need.

 

Calm as angel’s breath

I aim squarely at the cosmos

and ease the trigger back.

 

From atop this splintered life-boat,

set adrift on a sea of uncertainty,

a shot rings out into the void.

 

Calm as angel’s breath

I aim squarely at the cosmos

and ease the trigger back.

 

In the quiet corners of quantified time

silence sheds like the rattlesnake’s skin:

the outer shield has been left,

but the raucous chorus still remains.

 

The outer shield has been shed,

but the raucous chorus still remains.

 

IV. The Noose Of Particles That Surrounds Our Minds

 

Physics,

that vicious mistress,

is both the waterfall’s end

and the river’s icy-mountain beginning.

 

Even the wildest gyration of a poet’s arrow,

launched haphazardly towards a simile-strewn heart,

is descended from her bountiful waters.

 

Wielding the icy blade

of forgiveness with flaming palms

renders resolution impossible.

 

V. Wring Me Out In Waves Of Hate

 

This skull juice

is the ultimate poison;

let it coat the throat of this universe

with noxious dark matter.

 

My heart,

forged from the unfathomable cauldron of time,

is shaped like a trillion question marks.

 

My mind,

reassembled from a swarthy jet of star radiation,

is a prismatic lodestone sword:

with unforgiving effervescence,

it glimmers in the chill of the night.

 

VI. Pruned From The Trees To See The Skylight Surrounded By Black

 

Sometimes I shred

the obscuring clothes of humanity

just to beat the rocks like the primate I am.

 

I vocalize,

a furious four-limbed sculpture of carbon

shouting from inside the atmosphere’s skin.

 

The formula is cruelly diaphanous:

god is a zero,

a placeholder denoting

all that is vast,

all that confounds

a single pair of trembling hands.

 

Yet,

there in the half-light

we surf upon the cold wind stream,

propelled by the flamboyant warmth

of our jackknifed hearts.

 

VII. Flourishing In The Quiescent Light Of A Soaring Moonlit Night

 

Sometimes we yearn to un-know,

to return to the elaborate facades

that cloud the skyline of ideas.

 

But this razor-vision,

swiped from Occam’s lips,

it reaches into absolute zero

and pulls out a steel heart

brimming with elapsed regret.

 

So I vocalize,

a furious four-limbed sculpture of carbon

shouting from inside the atmosphere’s skin.

 

I call out for a sentient star:

a giant machine like us,

born into majestic isolation.

 

Together,

we are atomic siblings

bathing in the flamboyant warmth

of our jackknifed hearts.

 

VIII. And Sisyphus Wept Intergalactic Tears

 

Sometimes a galaxy is a speck

caught in the eye of a supple colossus,

a Herculean statue of light,

littered with the fruit of self doubt.

 

Yet the size of its mind-terror mirrors our own,

and eventually we must reunite

in the brotherhood of blood:

cracking rock after rock after rock

against the slavemaster’s chains.

Skin To Skin We Embrace The Epiphany Of The Galactic Supercluster

From the shape of your eyes
silky tendrils of meaning erupt
and quiver like whispers of the fifth dimension
as our fiery emotions leapfrog like quantum ghosts
tunneling through the riverbanks of life.

As the universe flies apart exponentially,
we delve deeper into the darkness,
dark matter holding galaxies together,
dark energy flinging the cosmos apart.

In the furious shimmering of hours
our imperceptible bubbles of astonished matter
gallop faster-than-light through the sparse galactic voids
until halted by the towering entrance
of a billion swirling kingdoms.

As glorious radiation cascades into our minds,
we ride this cosmic staircase higher.

Tethered to the ether by the motherly grip
of a central supermassive black hole,
each bejeweled galactic step sparkles
with the light from billions of distinct star systems.

Oh how our cold and fleeting faces
rise to meet the churning night sky
like lizards racing up cliff walls,
desperate to warm themselves
upon the rocks of simmering consciousness.

As our touching hands try to stabilize these fragile heartbeats,
the realization that everything emanates from a single point
glistens in our eyes with tender emotion
as we sway softly to the familiar sound
of approaching spring rain.

Our mutual velocity binds us together as we expand inwardly,
sending sonorous songs about singularities
rippling into the stratosphere of this poignant pale blue dot
that we walk upon with tremendously trembling limbs,
tremendously trembling limbs.

With A Painter’s Confident Swoop She Remade The Night Sky

I.
I tremble towards you slowly,
tripping into shuddering branches
as uncertainty whips heavy circles of anticipation
into my glowing soul.

Grabbing your hungry waist
I pluck the moon from the sky like a ripe fruit,
a meager offering to your receptive lips.

For a moment the stillness hangs;
as we melt into the intoxicating darkness,
our senses take to the heavens like magnificent owls
gliding gracefully in the unending moonlight.

II.
Your thirsty stare weaves a cocoon of hope around us,
borrowing the sticky twilight-geometry of spider silk
to meticulously resurrect every splintered forest of past regret.

Of moving on
we know nothing.

As our ambrosial kisses stammer in particles and waves
they ignite into a necklace of slumbering lotus seeds:
thousand-year memories of human regression and procession
that churn like mammoth wheels,
revealing the steady clock-like drift
of our intertwined subconscious minds
which connect like a stomach to food
after a month long fast.

It seems we’ll always have mouths
for filling, won’t we?

And what is freedom but your body pressed against mine?

Our exploring hands promenade in the faint light,
and what a journey those photons have endured:
from sun to moon to Earth
and then into the fierce waterfall
of our cascading hearts.

III.
We covet the moist essence
of our volcano-melted edges
until the segmented worms of possibility
digest the sky into swirling puddles
of florid fever-dreams that
we escape only by rebuilding
our destabilized molecules one by one
in the accelerated consciousness
of our enjoined lips.

Tendrils Of Smoke Rise Like Snakes Over The Horizon

As time crawls its relentless crawl across the epic flowing river of space,
my mind expands, enveloping our little watery rock called Earth,
traveling past the planets, past El Sol, past the heliopause which defines
the end of our sun’s domain and the beginning of interstellar space,
and then I begin a journey through our Milky Way galaxy,
the dark dusty spires which birth bright new stars,
the voids of emptiness that glide by like an owl in the night,
all these things rise and fall in my mind like the inhalation and exhalation
of my chest and the steady thumping of my beating heart.

I am here, exploring the cosmos for another year,
rising above the maelstrom,
creating vibrant health however I can,
loving with all that I am,
dreaming words onto the page,
singing songs into the night,
playing the keys to the rhythm of a ticking clock,
the one that foreshadows all endings,
tick tick tock, time stalks us all but I rise again
battling past moments upon moments,
I am here now,
hurtling into the future.

Hear my cry,
my clarion call.

Not a plaintive sob
but a proud native squall,
speaking as the bear speaks,
flying as the hawk flies,
swimming as the salmon swims,
thinking as a human being,
flames of recognition burning in my eyes,
as I release myself into living,
again and again.

I am here now,
hurtling into the future.

Hear my cry,
my clarion call.

Rising From The Depths Of This Magnificent Tomb, We Face The Sky

I.
Kiss me here
under the azure skies
where time kills.

Kiss me here
where the mind’s eye
simmers in fear.

Taste me tonight
where once again
the trickster’s balm
of artistic expression
has failed to soothe
my aching eyes.

Even in the tomb
of King Mausolus
there is no rest,
for words do not heal,
they merely reflect the torrid currents
that flow through the twin rivers of sight.

Words,
even those etched in stone,
merely reflect.

So take me into blackest night:
above the embers impale me
with the funeral-scarred skies
as I tenderly genuflect.

II.
Starry sky,
you compass
of my forlorn heart,
your ubiquitous light-streams
only heighten the rush
of the precisely-calibrated oxygen
that courses through my brain.

Words,
even those etched in stone,
merely reflect.

So take me into blackest night:
above the embers impale me
with the funeral-scarred skies
as I tenderly genuflect.

III.
Desire,
your sharpened mountain peaks
can never overflow enough
to float this wretched boat,
so I disown you,
again and again,
again and again.

Oh,
to survive this time-quake,
to scale this tremendously blackened monument
is a testament to the wiry limbs of life:
from my vantage point here in the teeming silence,
how the galaxies swirl, how the galaxies swirl!

I feel the screams of contemplation
as their wounds of dislocation
erupt from a billion distant points,
cascading in front of my eyes like falling stars:
the light years streak onto the canvas
in carefully-measured caresses,
carefully-measured caresses.

IV.
Tethered to this fragile satellite,
the mind feels like a universe-sized wormhole,
a supernova bloom that engulfs
the event horizon of a black hole.

Oh, the bitter give-and-take,
the bitter give-and-take:
even the handful of light years
that separates us from the nearest star is
a meager teardrop thoughtfully descending
into the cloaked cauldron of time.

V.
So taste me tonight
where once again
the trickster’s balm
has failed to soothe
my aching eyes.

Kiss me here
in the twilight
where the mind’s eye
simmers in fear.

Kiss me here
under the azure skies
where time kills.