so she appeared in the now. brilliant room time stops. spotlight on. traffic parts these usual cliches. catch me off guard this does not happen not to me, at least hence my confusion frozen. in a situation I was not expecting; so has. halted breath and eyes lock met; I have to have her when of course she already has… me.
your eyes uphold me like a lotus blossom upon a pad upon a pond a path I have walked into that beyond I wonder if I will find you there when you are right here surely I am lost in this moment in your stare in your eyes for your love is my compass and my guide
‘a wash of nature’ humans, above the animals we place ourselves, perhaps, but instinct, still an unseen force coursing through our being, and maybe, maybe that is what drew me outside, my own subconscious need to survive, or at least better my now sometimes the days feel crushing, as if bricks are piling on and you have no choice but to take the tension, the tensionof pushing back to not snap in half like a twig, and every minute seems to make the ground softer, the weight larger, until you are just a witch ditched under the corner of a house in a tale on some small CRT so I venture outside, the banal but rewarding task of watering my bamboo plants, they don’t talk back, or at least not yet, they do not have names but certainly have faces I have come to recognize, and then I notice to the west, the breeze hits, the type of breeze that just might be carrying a parcel as a portent to some distant traveling storm, but the clouds they stay quaint, without a word the breeze speaks to me, washing over me, not like water, like only wind can, touching but not, invading but cordial, intimate but not intrusive, I stop – arms out just to bathe in this, a wash of nature, so I sit down on my concrete steps, trying to capture the breath in, watching the water drip from pots just wetted, the drops out-slowing with every moment of age, as all things, trying to bask in the last embers thrown of day, fading, not dying for I know the world is spin, just resting, just sleeping while I sleep and I think of you, of all the lips have mine have touched none have been as yours, nerve endings are only the beginning, the vessel, a means, I remember peering and curling up in your eyes, so I could immerse myself in every inch of you, to be one, and now I am just one, I dream of you here, even now, all these years later, I still wish you to be here, quiet in this moment, together, what else is better? I’ve not known, I’ve not found a mere sustainable sliver since, a key, a door, no – just rambling wilderness guided by the faded scribblings of a once fierce cartographer, no more, a meandering nomad yearning for mirages to appear, something so intense even if pure hallucination might mend, at least for a moment, I wish you were here right now so I could tell you everything and nothing, just to feel your gentleness once more, just once more, I slide into what was, what could have been, but no, these silent moments in a comforting summer breeze relent, the soft tin-din of seasonal locusts in chorus, crickets chiming in as the light dims, in my mind I reach for your hand – to know it is gone, so I sit within the phrase-waves of this somber summer song, stripped away of all the world around, my focus has but only sound, I whisper in the most warming tone, as if lost in your sight-line, if only once more… “I will always love you”
notes… stream of my consciousness, all rivers bleed into the sea, or at least they do… for me, sometimes.
‘submerge’ at the end of all time I will be there standing waiting awaiting our intersection once more hand in hand to walk off the infinity plank into that depth, vast eyes locked with yours mi amor mi amor
note: this is all about form, fast haiku maybe, maybe something else, my own version of verse… but it makes sense to me rhythmically….
so, if we truly are- dust. then we may be familiar you and I embraced within the landscape for eternities pebbles on the shore- once we were meant to meet in this life of that my heart my love I am sure if only that I am sure.
notes… almost a lost love letters post which I am known for (well at least by three people or a little more) but this one… felt more general, I am thinking about pre life here… and after life… we are molecules, we have a physical component, so maybe we met before, on a beach, is that a reach? not to me, it makes perfect sense, maybe our attraction to each other is molecular… and ancient… and beyond what we think we know, we know so little, but don’t tend to really think about it… all stuck on this magic marble… spinning in some in•fin•i•tes•i•mal section of the universe… can we be that small ? no, we are that small, but that does not mean we have not met, a million thousand times before, why else do we coalesce now ??? your thoughts and comments are always appreciated… thanks.
are we fibers or just strings or links in a chain I wonder as I hold you closer I imagine we begin to combine at the molecular level can we now pass through each other? or simply merge for a moment two spun as one no wonder the separation feels as this does
notes… lost love letters staccato style (as I call it), I am very aware of rhythm in my words and flow… maybe it is all in my head, sure, but those who get it are wired into my frequency, I do not expect that to be everyone, just you, so thanks for the time, any and all comments are appreciated
I think of you every day like the sun rising that simple- that feel a gentle warmth on my cheek, on my eyelids, as I see you with them closed, I think of you every day – the guilt is the passion of the poison as I am a circled serpent bite embraced, I think of you every day, as I drive past, I drive from the freedom tower to the empire state as a made-up façade running along my side like a slide as the sun glides rises up like a passenger riding in a train watching scenery pass by yet, I’m in my car almost a dream like state I am so far – from, yes, so far from- you, I think of you every day and yet sometimes there is grace for even in this pit of despair from which I still breath and draw all air- for there there was always the truth there was and always will be love embraced and for that is all that saves me most days… most days.
notes… I wanted this to feel like my thoughts, stop and go, and yet flow – at times, is that not more real than perfection sometimes ? I realize poetry can just be this amazing stream but sometimes I am trying to create life, real life, real thoughts, and that is never perfect, do I want to create some perfect things sometimes? yes… but not this time, this is being life on purpose…