untitled (for now)

Her path is brown apples, soft mud and loam.

She looks nowhere else, steps daintily home.

Above, only one fruit remains,

A brutal burden on a branch that strains.

Overripe, decayed,

Skin split and leaking –

Putrescent –

Do you know of that which I’m speaking?

The soft brown curls whereupon I sit

Are lifted by a gust.

If there is a moment, this is it,

When swiftly to prayer I must.

Oh, sweet lady, pull me low –

Let me shade thine eyes!

There are things one should not know –

Don’t look toward the skies!

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Published in: on October 22, 2010 at 12:52 am  Leave a Comment  
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Welcome Home

A ladder to heaven
Black and white stripes
I will climb with my lips
If it takes me all night
And there at the gates
An angel awaits
Moving her hands in prayer

Shadows and light
Decorate the duvet
From rung to threshold
My climbing lips stray
And under my tongue
Her mind drifts away
Moving her hands in prayer

And the sensual instinct that gathers within
Releases the chains on the past lives we’ve lived
And the barrier sunders with a thunderous roar
The blood in our veins sings “Forever more”
And layers like leaves fall a million deep
And still we continue to meet and to meet
And still we continue to meet and to meet
Moving our hands in prayer

Published in: on October 13, 2009 at 2:06 am  Leave a Comment  
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