Suddenly the color drained from your image
upon the carefully crafted canvas of my imagination.
I saw you as you are,
A hungry man
who eats me for lunch.
You took me for a ride.
Brought me to the edge.
And for you
on intrepid wings of rising sensation
to the other side,
flying for a moment
to a little death,
le petite mort.
is a pulsating explosion of vivid color and feeling,
propelling me into
of the dreamworld,
where knowing is sudden
Doors open in my mind
and I traverse the familiar pathways through the artistic landscape of my soul
while u lie next me, fingers interlaced with mine, breathing and dropping into your private spell of sleep.
My inner journey takes me outside of time,
into the world of the ancestors
In my wandering I meet an emissary
of necessary wisdom.
The eternal message flows, in words unspoken:
“beneath the shallow veil
of this surface reality,
of thought and images and emotions that fleetingly possess you
you are loved
you are loved
you are loved.”
Always a lonely hunter of the heart,
I stalked your movements across the wilderness of my inner visions,
contemplated your various images like Rorschach blots
as they were painted in my dreams,
your petulant moods, your hard walls and ragged edges,
your painful betrayals, your ambiguous returns,
your stolen kisses
taken like a thief in the night.
When I saw you,
your brooding eyes spelled me to you
like sorcerer’s stones.
Your carefully cast glances entered the soft, yearning places on my body
with invisible hooks,
luring me to crave
your warm touch,
the familiar feel
of your rough hands
on my skin.
Inside my void, I rearranged things
with the insight of my secret wisdom.
as you fell through an inevitable crack
in the liminal space,
dove into the pool
“God brought us together in this place” you said philosophically
after grabbing me
and pulling me to you at the bar.
But I only believe
in a personal god
and the artistry
of this living dream,
so when I found myself later that night
lying sweetly in your arms like a bear cub
in a cozy cave,
I knew I had crafted that moment with the clay of my will,
had penned it with my own divine hands,
as that is what I am willing to do
in pursuit of poetry.