The Painter

He climbs the ladder, paintbrush in hand
Ready to coat the weathered years
That crack and peel from frost and heat and rain.
Rivers of reds and greens, blues and soft dove-greys
Drench my skin in laughter
And drip onto the tile spreading music
Throughout my veins
While little victories from battles waged
Against a cavalcade of mediocrity
Climax and parachute our runaway train
Onto an island murmuring endearments
Under its white sands, lulling us to rest.

Work of Art

As dusk stretches renting day to night,
My head, dreamy from liquid clouds of heat,
Floats in rippling colours while
My hands on the wheel slide
Slowly to six o’clock.

Fresh white flashes
Invade my oblivion
Illuminating tawny memories
Spiraling to escape.
Laughter reverberates
Echoing metal’s collapse
Embracing my legs, hips, chest, arms.

Weightless, my shadow
Melts in the remnants,
Baptized and blessed
By a brocade of airy breath and rain.

A newly sown soul claims my spirit
As her own.
Emerging from the mist she imbibes
Drizzling drops, imbuing senses and
Rendering me timeless.

Water and Air

A whimsic bird uncaged she flies alone
Across a moonlit earth til dawn’s face shone,
She’s carved from air, released to shape the winds,
Change their direction as befits her whims.
Beneath her beating wings in waters dark
Through currents cuts a silent, lonesome shark
Who free to churn the oceans in pursuit
Of life, the waves he thrashes; they dilute
In air above. Two elements unite;
A hurricane impassioned they alight
On land. In time distance between them wanes
Transforming storm to fog, yet two remain.
When sun arises steaming them with heat,
They dissipate; water and air repeat.

My Blues

Wine in my veins
Soaks me in fields of ripened grapes
Hewn from seeds of blues
That play on my strings,
Traveling up and down the frets.

But the bass line, the steady rhythm
That sustains my desire,
Resounds in recesses of want
That become a need to
Be the instrument
That feeds his soul.


Laid out on a slab of broken tears
I rolled to my side feeling the shards
Piercing the emptiness in
My back
My arm
My neck
My thigh
It shouldn’t have hurt
A hollow vessel
But each wedge
Each grain of ice

Instead of crying out
I lapsed into the beauty of feeling
To fill the casket that bled
Onto a white beach
And washed into the Gulf

Void of color
Seeped into my remains
And the light that burst
From its abundance
Lifted my ruins
Into the sea breeze
And delivered the fragments
To the sun.

His Music

When crickets chirp to soothe the nightmares he
Combats each time in darkness lays his head,
His dreams unravel trailing words and notes
Upon the mattress. Sliding down the bed,
The melody sails swiftly into night,
And taking flight the air its chords embrace
Til floating into windows open wide
The music lights upon her brow awake.
Her heartbeats match the rhythm of his sighs
Now woven into tapestries of sound,
And blanketing spirit and body, songs
On flushed skin flood desire, almost drowned.
But gasping in her hunger she draws breath
Together souls wend towards a petit death.


Was I touched
When I hummed a tune
I had never before heard,
When I swayed in a dance
I had never before seen,
When I plucked strings on an instrument
I had never before played,
Or when I loved a soul
I had never before known?