In the quiet of…

In the quiet of the night

I draw poetry in my mind

Your breath

draws another stanza

from the corner of the room

a blank white page

fills the spaces between you and I

and the picture window

the Seattle skyline

 above your head

is like a glowing outline

like us

as much asleep as it is alive

your murmurs sketching a frame

around the soft edges of our bed

as I press further into glass

outside looking in…

the silhouettes

of our once making love

etched into the walls

over the echos of our moans

creating haikus

and lines I can trace

over your sleeping body

and the Sound

we hold captive

in the picture window.

 

 

 

soul speak

that was you the other day

we passed by

the lost highway.

i remember you

in hues of blue.

a gentle smile

and ‘wrought’-

i fell into you

falling into me;

we were barely legal

but nothing could have stopped

what was sent our way.

One day I thought I’d fly

on the cliff you’d call me

any words to bring me back

to you

‘Love’

neither me nor you -

too young to understand

too young to turn away.

I found all I’d ever wanted

in that one fall day.

but like a rolling stone-

ten years later

i started rolling down

our life faded away

and here we are

on a lost highway.

behind closed doors we covet

things that we’ve lost

our innocence

ripens with age

then passes away

falling like petals of guilt

one by one

we are lost

praying on knees

faces pressed against glass

vials of confusion

that grapple for time

reaching for air

or just a fair breath

among the murmur of pipers

and the plague of control

we are rabid

morbidly awaiting for another to drop

so we can take their place

among the hidden sacrifice

 

 

 

 

Six months turns into years

you leave  a message,

‘want you’

I hear you beneath dreams

and voices  I have to whisper

cold blood turns into red tears.

I remember digging a grave

to burry my love

holding my breath.

Without words

I watched you go.

Six months has turned into years

and there you are.

 

ten thousand love stories

I run away.

from ten thousand love stories

and you’re the “only” one.

 

I feel you at roots

that grow skin deep

but there are shadows.

I keep them around

like thoughts that linger

because I need to.

One leaves me drifting

on supposition

the what if I can answer.

Others become the sediment

of a backdrop story

my plan Bs.

I feel uncertain

and I know it leaves me

like a black widow

guarding her web.

Fear controls my essence

don’t spread it too thin

never thick.

At best it is easiest to describe:

seduction at a distance

feels more potent

than submission.

 

withholding

Equal too but not quite,

Art has colagulated.

When I first began

it felt like the music that played

when fingers danced over ebony and white.

It ferments now,

the words my mind can not erase,

stewing

to an agitated curdle

at the back of my throat.

Sometimes I feel like a lush

with savory metaphors

something like this…

 

I want to walk out across the ocean

or deep into the uncut forest

with the friend I can tell anything to

and not feel afraid

for what I have to say

or how it might be told.

I want to sit there in silence

listen to our breath

and in that moment

forgetting the details of love

but feeling life

- Letting go

lips parting wide

releasing

letters that drip across blank pages

 

 

in the quiet

equal to but not quite

my vibrant emotions

against your cool calm

resonate

allowing my withholding

of these words.

 

 

 

Friend

I have to admit

it’s crossed my mind

that’s why i sit here and look at you

looking at me.

Me being me

that thing that I do

wants to crawl off the page

come sit next to you.

We can be that thing that we are

me and you.

Our life is timeless

among the alders we grow

to the ridge top

we inspire.

Journey on my friend

along the way

me being me

you being you

the thing that we do.