home beckons
from distant
and
strange lands.
wild places lost
to memory,
or clouded in dream.
but nowhere
ever,
does he hear his name.
a perfect day
did
you
smell
today's promise in
the waning night
air:
crisply thin,
and growing?
did
you
see
the morning sky
wink
as storks skipped
'cross the ether
into a rising flame?
did
you
taste
the delicate pines
dripping mist and magic,
and memories?
did
you
hear
the robins, and tits and
crows all laugh
with the old chortling mamas
swimming in love?
surely you felt
that
tingling spark of
recognition
singe your soul, when the grizzled stranger
smiled
just for you.
rare indeed,
are days lacking
in such love
and wonder.
natural beauty
come, and
let us warm
this hearth with
the remnants of our story,
humble in the glory
of what was never to be.
the beauty we find..the beauty we hide
Love
It
All
Nonstop
(full stop)
to be free
crashing vengeful
against the whole
of time,
History wails fierce,
and impotent.
dreams fall
so gentle
upon the future, waiting
for you.
the call / der ruf
beckoning so sweet
with the wisdom of butterflies
and posies.
how could I resist?
so I answer
with love.
and hugs.
and a dog.
Thank you ‘Mina
——–
winkt so süß
mit der Weisheit der Schmetterlinge
und
Blumenstrauß.
wie könnte ich widerstehen
also antworte ich
mit Liebe.
und Umarmungen.
und ein Hund.
Danke ‘Mina
never enough
savage
ravishing
left unchecked,
her beauties swarm over
me.
drowning in ecstasy,
a yearning
grows,
whet by pleasure.
twilight closes-
we touch infinity,
and so we bid,
farewell.
long after midnight
beckoning from beyond
the corners and
boundaries
of the night, she
waits
with the libertine grace
of a hurricane unbound.
beneath a soft rain,
dream and
expectation
susurrate between leaf
and shadow,
weaving fearful ecstasy.
I move to her, ready
once again,
to die, or
to soar,
just like how we loved
before.
sloughing sin
histories suffocate
under the
vibrancy of these lush
tropical nights, and
I scream
for release,
only to awaken here
naked,
next to you.
Knowing knows
and you don't
know
nothing.
but,
my love,
neither do I.
so,
we learn to creep,
penitent and
proud,
thrusting subtlety here,
and there.
we learn to cleave unto memory..
memories woven by old spiders
and old women,
woven to adorn the
stooped shoulders
of kings
fallen.
a drought of desire
calm inferno
races rampant
across skin and
soul;
triumphant once more.
seeking
no longer.
longing
for naught.
free.
may that tempest ne'er drown me
again in lust
and want, and
love.
there's work to do.
theDeprevation 