Tuesday, April 25, 2006

love poem

I do not love you
for gentle words
or for a whispered touch

nor do I love
for clever wit or games
of intellect.

I love you essentially
from where my passions
are stripped raw and
then caressed by
callused hands

I love you with as much
Pain as Joy.

I love from the
darkness in which
Innocence lives.
for the fathomless plunge into
blackness of your eyes
and the shelter within.

I love without knowing why;
I love without caring.

I love for
the taste of your lips,
the fragrance of your skin,
the weight of your body.

I love completely
with all of myself,
I love for what
you have carved
from my soul
by loving me.

Friday, April 07, 2006

the water poet

the water poet sits
his words are -
eternally old, and
tenderly young
unfolding truths pouring
from a heart caught
unaware - and shed
upon the textured page
drifting in whitest swan feathers.

the water poet dreams
in amethyst,
of intuitions dropping
as reflections upon
the silver lake,
of faces
turning in,
toward a muse.

the water poet smiles,
surrenders to the wind
and light -
his barest word -

the essence of this moment.

which is his life.