Europa

Spilled glass.

God your body is like an orchard

Or an orange field

Watered by tears of the sun

By moonlight

By the streets of Venice and Rome

With a thousand roots digging into the soft, veined earth

Like the syllables of wanton love

Or lyrics in a minor key

Or ink in the paper of a memoir kept under spacers in a jar

And you curve like a moment in time, a moment in space

Where god looks himself in the mirror and feels incomparable

The brushstroke that defines the Sistine

The climax in a morning when the bowl of tangerine we float around

Shatters like a hundred hymnal notes across spinal organ pipes

A syringe drop of blood and brilliance

Like the night Mozart penned his Requiem

And Vivaldi the Seasons of the Air

Still, miles from the harbor where I dock my soul

In you, around you, through you

And when I slip inside you

The dry paint of this cathedral runs like the skin of a burning candle

And it feels like the tense nautical surface of a raw heart

Crawling between death and birth

Between every moment that defined the outbreak of this tightrope being

A muscle of a typewriter with pain for semicolons

Lust for hyphens

And Trenchtown love for long, bowling vowels

And before I break inside you

I become a calligrapher of desire

The swell of a star’s final tide

Like jettison foam on the palette of a dead man

Wanting, yearning, dining, dying

A signature in a Thai rainbow

With immaculate color for crayon and spray paint

Dante graffiti, a Cezanne meets avant-garde in a café for only lovers

Rain in a petal dry and skunked as bone

Wind against the palm of a still hand in a still land

A poem chocolate rich with all the words I’ve ever longed to say

And you love

Exeunt with a smile the color of my grandmother’s favorite flower

Eucalyptus, a smell like the coconut and salt shores of Maui

Where you, love, were born

And I become

But a rag tone on mute

Caught somewhere between here and there

Now and then

All under the wet light

Of a perfect. Human. Dream.  

Reviews

[Quill up a gay ape's bu..]

A perfect human dream? This is prejudiced against primates. Open your mind. Read Charles Darwin. That guy knew some s**t. But he wouldn't read any s**t. So he would never have read this.