CHAPBOOK #5 - RED BALLOON (DESIRE)

A Pip of Love.

INSPIRATION IS DIVINATION

A wave of a hand

a wand

a wink

             a nod   or  blink 

a winged kiss

you wriggling your nose 

spurns me to rub your lamp

I dream of you 

magically and often can

divine your eyes

What curse or bliss

to be abused by your smile

from the muse of our wiles

all the while 

in our Utopian isolation

no image of what must

or emulation of their love or

such none-such

"you'll die, oh you just must"

they enthuse with crush,

as we paint ourselves tender

in writhing naked laughter

our own canvas 

signed by us...

and only just

ourselves to Van Gogh 

      "Water Lillies"          "Starry Nights"

masterpiece of our colorful theater

there I can see the future

of your worth

inspiration's lovely birth

in the museums of my lungs

in my life

the art we shape with time

with touch...

what curse or bliss

this wish

come true

a wave of a hand 

a wand

our winged kiss.

RED

1.

Dying of a day / reflections

 

on surfaces of oceans

 

burnt umber, blue, and blood

 

the sinking sun

                       wounded

 

death is red

 

before the dark          ruins...

 

 

2.

It is the sensation of ripples

when supple pink linguist

leaves poetic yearning

on touching

of nape and taste,

lifting countries and new

conquered kingdoms

of skin

 

gooseflesh and earthquakes

blood as lava

rushes in

     kabuki cheeks

          secret joy begins

red and parched

sudden seas of thirst

parts / our senses / must

 

breathe ...

(like art)

 

Magic whispers kiss

because touch enpassioned

is red

    and wish.

 

3.

Love lorn letters

 

poetic bliss

     spontaneous wings born

 

each ache and void

trumpeting words

 

when distance fails

the hearts which speak

 

red

the oceans felt

 

the tides that ebb

 

hurried plea

desperations

red

 

when letters

lose the dying magnitude

the importance

and impetus

that love must free

 

clarion song

 

of hearts are red

as are all

kisses (scarlet)

even to air

and dead

 

begins on such lips

 

red....

SEX

We dapple our breath

with White Zin / hot Zen

 

and like the blind finding doors

you open me

 

Longingly

this warmth to coalesce

CHOCOLATE

Does  not need to be neither

whether dark,

milky, brown or white

they all are pleasant

like

smooth footsteps upon the tongue

plush / sweet :

                      puppy-love puddin'

the way it melts

like a velvet quilt down the throat

palate-warm

like a dolphin's skin / swimming

and then...

spider legs / goose-flesh

after such a chess game - consumption

all the while,

chin, cheer

ear-to-ear 

smile

no nuts /  caramel / nougat

but just a valentine piece

of a pure promise

a pip / of inner profanity

a lift from life's lemon-sanity

a silent orgasm in the lungs

smooth footsteps upon the tongue...

ONION

Love for all its glowing praise

Be not so simple to reflect

Too many subtexts to explain

Varied lessons so complex.

PHOTOBOOTH

Now bold to keep hold

of child idle wishes

when in all a boy's life

the bliss is true in kisses

verbose promises mostly misses

what is corporeal is made real

in beloved eyes' appeal

yet just one is giving deepness

heaven half realized in weakness,

a sunken heart congeals,

framed in little honest pieces.

EMPHATIC

In the hush of your eyes 

my heart speaks loudest

feeling our love

our conversation in a word

rhythmic drums

rapacious lungs / 

repeatedly

after you

 

inhaling

"yes"

after all : 

we are merely

Exhalations.

EMPATHY

Bronx in the rain

slick city stones somber gloom

late afternoon

overcast blue

     Navy leaves in tinsel sheen

     midnight hues and sapphire

     where jazz becomes a dancing shadow

beneath light post misty

gold.

Outside the bricks are bricks

but down there

lovers' tight embrace

in the fallow showers

catch all eyes keen to PDA 

as well as mine 

 peculiar

while traffic whirls 

loud as blacktop and oil slick roads

heavy as gutter water hitting cement

time stands still

lovers hallmark 

wet in the gills

frozen 

a snapshot a Banksy a Monet

raindrop brush strokes

chaos maelstrom

reality rivulets

while I am dry

inside

at a pause / intently intensely

watching

This reminds me

how it must of felt / now

in this emotion

by mere feelings 

reminiscent

wordless script

scene not heard

                            dwelling...

I am dry inside

looking down

yet how I drown when they kiss

drowning 

without.

                            Empathy.

ENNUI

The aging blind man at the florist's
Recalls his vision, his statue'd youth

Here, the sensation of scent
Is a meadow of heartache
When days were alive as a bouquet
Excited to go see his love

Alas when sight was fragrant...

He carries lilies out the door
Old and blind
A man holding memories
Of bright befores...

Alas when sight was fragrant.

ONCE (SUBSTANCE)

Excitedly I say once,

"if love was a substance, if only

some sort of word, concrete

rather than heard in song made wispy & absurd"

instead bold in your face apparent

a freakshow, cirque du taste

such theatrics (once) our lips

 

film noir of your thrilling face

 

Undeniable you

unabashed like a growth to your left

a mole on your kind skin

red lipstick puckering miss Monroe

eyes that ooze dreamy

how I always noticed you (once)

saying "Ooh look here, this is love"

pointing to that dot

 

but i know love is more than

a tiny tiny blemish (Marilyn's coy mole)

as beauty marks me

with what was quick draw and newly raw

touch with much whirling

such were we

openly exposed to

 

Love : Effulgent

what things of wealth imbue

matters more now

than that truth

golden glow not many know

what we felt suns dawning woe

 

so wretchedly loudly

made so obvious / where we partook

if briefly donning heaven in a look

 

hold on my arms - keep hold

i say to what was once

love now as heavy as you're letting go

now doubt is lead

as I remember saying

"look here -- once, this was love"

where stands my shadow

as I regret

not informing you : "should of kept your eyes open

during the fall

should of kept honest is all"

 

If only love to you

was of some real substance

beyond misty hours

something like the prose of rain to heartache

empty like open doorways of us before

because once is now

no more.

THAT SUNDAY MORNING

Groan.

      Yawn.

How I adore our meanderings.

 

Mornings of misfits

muscles

waking to the sturdy fur of you,

     pecks, abs, inner thigh

naked...

 

The world outside, absent

your hardness

itching against yesterday's 5-o'clock

     shadow

 

We breakfast on sensations

moaning

     satin thousand threads

sifting in grips of sheets

          creating

    silken dunes of flesh creamy hues

soft mounds from our twist

                tied

 

tethered limbs

then opening passages with kisses

     and humidity's licks

camelback & cobra songs

to Sahara

           heat

where we worship obelisks

until slumber

has rendered us

              stardust and sphinx

 

Midnight recovery

mused is our flesh again

     this morning

less stealth of night but copious

hands

         slithering to waves

         of parched needs

for us to swim in its seas,

sensing sensual stiffness

     your shifting

            your shaft

my blood collects

    to tighten the hardness that is mine.

 

When this grabs hold of us

we forgive

           that it is Sunday

 

Such thickets of urges

   juicy sweet confection / completion's

masculine deprivation

         half grin half flurry,

                     No worry

displacing thoughts of infection

secure in our relations...

 

Stretching with both my hands

behind me

        gripping with claws of the passionate

buttocks raised (waiting for rain)

as if to be seen & named

      by the gods' - creative breath and shame

           I yearn for how you embrace me

 

Firmly

as though I were the firmament

       your sky without permission (or air rights)

to fly

and in our rhythmic trance

we are Spartans

(with our war cry)

             Thrusting

                 Breathing

         Open

               Assuaged

                        defeat

          Shriven

                      Leap

hush...

 

Exhale. Good morning, Love

   a taste of how heaven

feels.

 

Stretching.

Eyes open to take in my world.

         Stretching.

Reaching for you

if only just briefly knowing the whole truth...

 

RED BALLOON (DESIRE)

Remember when

every touch

      with all its intention

a kindness

      Tender like our lips

      at first kiss,

deeply

in one another's eyes

      seeing with feelings

      discovery past the weight

      of fevered flesh,

a dervish flight

through those walls

      layered with doubts as heavy

      as the stones

we now turn our hearts into...

Remember when

every word

      was lovingly spoken

uplifting wisdom

like feathers, wings:

      the soft music of our mouths

      when life is floating

lanterns

and we briefly are a/part

you have me

     

soar...

And when we're as one

whole, a hearth warm,

and nude

      those wet silences

      of the undulating music

                      times we demure

our mouths still drinking, singing

instilling lessons

      within depths / the heart's thirst

which only absolute certainty

      calms and quenches...

keeps alight and so on

carrying on

      knowing tomorrow will come

      yet when with you I am new...

even in the dark

a star shines

Remember when

in the break of morning

      when eyes open from trenchant sleep

      (better than adrift or hollow)

remember how stunning the view

      inhale surprise waking life's wonder

even a/part the wars pain and riot

fearlessly I say

                depart and drink

the rain

         freedom love

sky and eyes

will awake...

        

And if we have yet to meet

since I know

      Truth and believe in Love,

when I fall for you

      Thank all the heavens, vast

I fell for you

      I will fall up...

Because I remember

now

it's you

      Lovely loving love

who fills my very cup

floating in the drink

of us.

(God how I love you.)

Bodies Not Our Own

“The thing about love is that we come alive in bodies not our own”

                       --Colum McCann (Let The Great World Spin)

 

 

How often have we departed,

Only to return for those accomplishments

Yet to be attained

in complete relinquishing of chains

 

Doubt, kicked aside like boxer briefs

Allowing our starkness to trust the ease

Of limber flight its heights

when bodies feel more of heaven

removed from themselves

as if an out of body replacement

in each other’s unexpected ache and deprivation

 

There is nothing more immense of touch

Than to experience ours in another

To become levitation and elation without wings

Love if only a brief conjuring or taste

Is better explained in skins met and kept

Oddly artistic like fetal sleep" its shape…

 

Two minds at the temple composed and content

At their waist / nude / umbilical and magic spent

Hearts between them beat, overcome

by rhythms from heaven, sent…

 

how often than not, have left those captions

of shared life and ecstasies to the halls of unremembered;

like ill-equipped journeys by the ignorant

by the newly seeing youth that we were

rushing ahead for bigger sensations to better

the previous fun, without caution, defunct in rum

 

dizzy inside maelstroms overwhelming, yet freeing...

behaved as anyone then would at losing sight

following no road, displaced eyes not to recognize;

all thoughts scrupulous doors, minds mapped absurdly

fearless Jenga of a life, a leaf in the wind falling from Sky

 

naïve faith that its all good, tho' alone, numb hurts

displaced pathos uncaring of worth or dirt...

how do we evolve without wellbeing or love

why are we, if not measured for the crown of kings?

How often do we listen before our voice is strong enough to sing?

 

Loving through gifts of our intermingled feelings

Bodies we speak wordless into being, one skein of light

From pitch dark and lost reasons, wakes to its pealing

Night is as beautiful in light’s mystic gleaning

Found in another’s succor, two bodies divinely beaming…