love from february blooms-down

can i sketch                      (i will

scratch and scar paper                                             (wanted or not)

askew lines, misproportioned                                (cubism

point of view,                   ( is more accurate)

call it Rhodadendrea in February Blooms

p.s.

i miss you.

 

leave a

 

                    ,

 

as a determined bee     (his thorax

refusing to settle but upon                                   (touches abdomen

fleshest, i do mean fleshest,                                (he retrieves)

        of blossoms.

 

give an                         (mountain of

                                       ( melody

                  !                  (at the crest

                                       (flat harmonies)

like a lizard dripping

from a leaf                   (quick to appear

and a blink of an i                                                  (urgent

p.s. i miss you.                (to your ear)

 

can i carelessly                 (most honestly)

claw and carve anything

until shear bone i sharpen                                      (of fingers and toes)

like a lazy child rotates crayon

keeping tip precise

call it, Primal Love from February Blooms-Down.

 

everything i see                 (when blood dries to brown

missing green,                        ( become branches)  

all too much blue.

p.s. i miss you

 

leave an

 

                   ...

 

for my heart beat                (lonely it needs a metronome

pygmy and petite                      ( to keep steady time)

but composed and complete

now that a bud of green-leaf

emerges

to be the shore, my relief

after a year of solitude

in an endless blue sea.

Reviews

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~ i really admire you, monsieur steeven, because of the intensity with which you love love... ~ this is a symphony... so immensely heartfelt... so magical... so moving... ~ i'm certain its notes reach the most distant of shores...