Something Absolution

The warm glow of the world 

spun around us like a scarf,

our toes jumping lively,

our noses touching, touch

I am flying in the blue openness of your eyes

and though we may spin faster, ever faster

we are pulled ever closer

by something's absolution. . .

The rising ocean, 

will catch the falling rain

inevitable. . .

Folding

It was so strange walking up to your door last night. . . 

it is as if the pavement is peeling away as you prepare to leave.

Carpeting retracts from the stairs
like a cat's tongue curling back
after a yawn.

The lights flicker,
every bulb is a little candle's flame
walls thin, like old playing cards
quivering in the wind.

Window blinds waver like watery eyes
for they recognize what comes.
The trees outside shed their clothes. . .
The feathers to your wings.

Take my hands my love
Let us race like our heart beats
to our next adventure
As the street folds closed,
like a wet, black fan.

Canopy of Golden Plans

Love is funny. . . 

It is patience,

Sitting by a field

tending the sprouting green

as it layers over the remains 

of every prior season

to see what colors arise

to paint name

a pink tremor on your lips

the cloudy blue cocktail,

stirring in you eyes

or a canopy of golden plans

in dreaming the next adventure

But we are also delving

changing and shifting

picking through earth's pockets

for the unexpected

a timeless day

when we lighten our burdens

or the perfect corner

of my arm for you to rest

Dandelion

Every word I write, is a love letter

to things I can never touch again

Every idea is a ship launched

from the sandy shore of the now

We kiss with forgetful tongues,

As hands renew an embrace

Friends recalled in warmth

Lovers rejoined in darkness

For though the present prints memories

as sheet music for waterfalls

When we meet. . . deseo mía

steam churns, from our presses

white sheets, smoke, crisp and burn

intricately inked, endlessly possible

I am a dandelion in the cold desert

before our rolling, nuclear tidal wave

A map

If i could 

number the stars

in your eyes

they would be

raindrops and paint

spun off a wheel

to count them

follow butterflies

trace a map

etched deep

in grey-blue lines

on my scalp

and then wait

let the hair grow

playful waves

hiding. . .  only just. . . 

beneath 

playful 

fingers

scruffling me

Root

I want to hold your brittle hand...
to feel your jagged pulse in mine
Let it take ensiform root in me 
A redwood destiny, in seed
Threading full my every vein
Leaf and branch, burst up and back 
Unfurling sail and hollow wing
for our journey from this elder world,
To home. . . back to our home. . . 
White roof above, our roots below
As you water me with kiss sweet 
My toes drink greenery, damp and deep
As I am your old silver skinned tree
I hold earth beneath, as solid vow
And storm above, will breach no bough
I give you my shade, my sweet green sea
For you, I whisper, as I sing
I sing you song of leaf and branch
as I stand, 
I stand for you.

The color of wildflowers

Did you sleep well?

Did your body bloom with relief. . .

wild flowers in the moonlight

My fingertips sowed then into your beauty last night

Tilled muscle and skin until they sighed in relief

And then in the dark of your room. . . 

stretching toward the unseen moon

little buds peeked out, 

yawned with a tender uncurling of leaves,

and the colors came. . .

the little white blooms, like snow blossoms

shy blue droplets of sky and sea

bright yellow joy, shaped as tiny lions calling to the moon

the valleys of your back held tense a moment, 

a sigh of relief at the end of a torrent of rain.

and then the million unnamed colors of love

the kind you saw when you realize in a daze

that our love had thwomped you on the head

and you briefly feared that you might never, ever

see straight. . . 

ever again. . .