If You Could See the Stars

Like a nebula you surround me
in a cloak of forming stars,
setting sail on astral vapors
across the heavenscape;
you softly light
in clouds’ delight
a cosmologic scene:
a cerulean sphinx, a verdant cove,
or eyes aquamarine,
a crimson girl with umbrous curls who delves the velvet deeps;
if this be dream,
then may I never waken from this sleep.

Within the deeping pockets,
I can spy chaotic scenes:
as the forming stars are burning,
as the gases storm and keen,
colossal
elemental forces are at work within,
sublime;
and I love you,
every particle:
we are fleeting, and we
did/do/will exist
at every point,
and past
the ends
of time;
my nebula,
my starscape,
my sea of astral rhyme.

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In Case You Were Wondering

What essences I have dreamed,
what hearts and souls I have schemed,
What darknesses I have screamed,
I do not know;
what beauty I have made,
what shimmerings in the shade,
what wistfulness I have bade,
oh my soul;
what Whitmans I have been,
Dickinson again and again,
I’ve been wallflower, I’ve been spin,
and this grows;
you don’t drain the Poe out of me,
you give it heart and you set it free,
can I say, “What will be, will be?”
I do not know;
what dreams had I given up on,
how many times cursed the dawn,
now it’s here, and it’s simply wrong,
oh, our souls;
prisms dancing in rainbow hues,
music instead of morning news,
castles crumble for love of you,
this I know;
this is more than exotic love,
or melancholy erotica,
intoxicate me and take my blood,
and this grows;
neon skirt and transparent blouse,
among the stars living hand to mouth,
when we’re together it outweighs doubt,
this I know;
I can touch you without my hand,
I can clothe you in astrakhan,
I can love you without a plan,
oh our souls.

50 Years Late and $7.37 Short, Adjusted for Inflation

Daydream darling,
I decorate a psychic space for you:
this space is filled with colors,
filled with textures
and tastes;
dark chocolate M&M’s
silken paisley, astrakhan
green and blue and purple and black
and every other shade has a turn
on its back.
Rainbows in bottles,
artistic banal
it might be mundane
but I’ll color it all,
I’ll color your world,
I’ll color it all.
Floral prints and gothic refrains
the goal is not to mask the pain
but make it palatable,
a bit more sane
in the madness of our love,
in antique daisy chains;
daydream darling,
awaken me
awaken all
that we could be,
as we defy
normality,
every law
including gravity,
connect and drift
on astral tides,
heal me and
consume my love,
my life.

Electric Love

Electric love
riding waves in the night,
you reach my heart by wire
and light,
is it right?
Who can comment
on beauty obscene,
who can say if teal
outstrips tangerine?
Well, I’ll say it:
teal far outstrips
tangerine,
and it wasn’t just electric,
it fills my dreams.
Woman,
I’m anachronistic for you,
I want analog love,
a steam-powered canoe,
internal combustion
describes my state,
but electric love
fills in
while we wait.

Shooting from the Hip

I must have
taken leave
senses of my
kisses spill into the dreamscape,
not escape exactly
it’s all too real
in the most abstract
way disembodied
spirit guide,
yet concrete if
such a material could be softly
sucked into your mouth,
licked by a tongue,
caressed by your hands,
pressed in your thighs,
welcomed to velvet oceans,
and still leave room
for a heartbeat
and an urn.

Call It Love

Monochrome rainbow
in a sky of sublime storm
roses every shade but red
circle the crown of thorns
on my unworthy head.
Somehow love,
somehow you love,
somehow you love me love,
knowing everything
knowing
every shade but green
that faces us
that calls beauty obscene
that turns its back on us
somehow
you are serene
even in your tears
even in tenebrous sheen
somehow you are more beautiful
than anything I have seen.