merging stars

you are like an elixir and we are merging stars in one stolen breath at 8.24 abandon to beautiful then hours of sweet alone immersed stretched and alive quiet but for the soaring song of birds and the sound of worship pushing from my body in waves of deep base invitation softly stroking ancient pain

Envelope

OPEN this envelope and in the smooth yet sharp cornered sheets, between the scent of fingertips beyond the spreading ink is poetry, sapling green with story fine tears blood crimes and flowers fight to reveal each a resplendent joy….. so sniff it, and then tip it to release a flow of tiny wise stars

Pure Constellations

a response to Rainer Maria Rilke’s Duino Elegies  below is the third of ten poems. moon light tide touch cloaked in dirt stirred by ozone I am a chorus of stars a clarity of pulsing tone old kings may issue from golden tombs lit by the fire of pure constellations faded ink may roar bloody fear but

The Wasp The Rose

  The wasp penetrates and the rose too I press my face into this life and on fluttering petals they find my portal they sting and sing in glorious waves of mystery, the rose the wasp and propel a gyroscopic spin on my ribbons my universe they travel I am space and these intoxicants are journeying through

Mother Tree

For ever Mother tree you cradled me. In the billows of steamy transit whilst time etched a nebulous reality in ancient air. And now you are holding me still, your warm cool hands, steadily grounding me. Like dirt and stars and love and god, your grace becomes me.

The Paintbrush

The paintbrush sits on pale skin and slides scarlet over kissing plain it touches and presses like time and strokes the distance between my fingers and my desire. Eyelids close and a breath is taken….. slowly a small movement, a perfumed step The paintbrush leaves the skin hair by hair and patience tempers the dancing