SUBJECT MATTER
You are a shadow now
simply subject of my art
lingering behind
some lines of poetry
but there are times
when suddenly
the ghost of you
stands in front of me
and my heart sinks
again

Hesperides
the beauty light that shines
from muse eyes

faint gleam the garden dreamer
awaiting Erebus
waiting in that dusk
of eternity

Hello Dawn
You are that dawn of life
most folks hanker to see,
you are that sunrise too,
we all that always knew...
I am the sunset of a distant horizon
and
you think I am as far as the Amazon,
but remember this from far
those who appreciate you,
it’s a bliss
the heavenly kiss...
the truth is this
but we all turn a blind eye
always at it
the truth...
if it were so for him too
his heart would let you know
but there is a mystery too,
sometimes even hearts don't know...

Your hands built me
And now they break me
Your words taught me
And now they taunt me
Your eyes held love
Now they've gone dark
Your arms held me
And now they push me back
Your heart loved me
And now there's nothing left

With the death of the day came the night
And all its singing
Its dancing bare branches
The dark reaching for us from all around;
The night birds called your name
And I knew you were real.

When the clouds left us behind
The sky opened up and poured out the stars
And it filled up the holes in our chests
Until I was afraid my heart would burst
And you thought this was a dream
It was all so surreal.

I want my lover to be the
way I eat his poetry,
like a delicacy, sweet to the bone
of his fingers,
salivating
and
taking me places
I've never been before
rendezvous-ing with untoward
lucid metaphor
naked in crisp white-ironed
summer-flowered sheets
of
possession and
unhinged imagination

Old timer, what debate do you pose on truth
The one I know freezes passion’s fire
Leaving behind demons that bathe in holy water

Old timer, quit selling those well told lies
Don’t talk about honesty, when yours was tainted
You speak of strength as if you were her child
We both know that you are the son of weakness

Rather than showing scars, you hide them well
In the comfort of walls you built, you cry another’s tears
Oh, old timer quit your war stories, they are of no use

Never did he take your hand,
He left you alone,
Lying there,
Letting that last one fall.

Never did you believe,
Because you were smarter than that,
He was the one,
But somehow he changed.

He asked for your hand,
You dove in blindly,
And he never knew,
Why you ran away.

Now alone he keeps himself,
No one knows who he is,
A shadow on the wall,
You were always his whole world.

CRY NOT

Cry not my love, cry not, though owls hoot in your chimney,
black with soot, their wooden wails, debilitated secret voices
of your mind, its wisdom dissipated by disease, ill at ease;
the curtain of days drawn shadows now turned to stone,

congealed, concealed your heart, yet within the granite
lie those feldspar crystals, quartz and precious gems,
the colours as the iris of your eye describes the beauty
you still hold; caught in the web of your own net,

Let me hear your laughing voice
each night before I go to bed
and see the shadow of your form
elegant as the day we wed

I like to brush that hair aside
which tends to drop and hide your eyes
and saying something off the cuff
which catches you by pure surprise

And frowning at your puzzle book
on the couch as I sit here and write
in your old tee shirt and stained sweat pants
beneath the floor lamp's cozy light