Biogenesis

I am fallen in darkness
A bleak solitude

Rose perfume sweeps
Metal boundaries
(Stained glass.)

Three paces forward
And six to the right.
The door feels like this
When cold winds blow at night.

I won't open my eyes
Brazen, plain depth-less globes

Like the bones of our oceans
Impossibly slow

Should my slack flabby eyelids strain,
Shake you from dreaming?
Unblinking
Unfocused

Skeletal masses
Time-powdered bone

Sifting softly
Drifting slowly
Aging like wine.

with sugar on top

Silence,
All pervading bliss
Silence,
Only virtue.
Only real & only warning
Only reason, only truth.
Expand contract, my silence
Only speak to me without decay
Penetrate and Permeate
My Silence
Only meaning

the ocean's rolled away again
it's taken all his joie de vivre
the ocean spray falls flat again
it's less intense than spittle

there is no we there's only one
this place this fear this giving
.

weeping willows
cease for nothing

stake, decapitate and burn.

"Learn To Be Quiet" by Franz Kafka

Learn To Be Quiet

You need not do anything.
Remain sitting at your table and listen.
You need not even listen, just wait.
You need not even wait,
just learn to be quiet, still and solitary.
And the world will freely offer itself to you unmasked.
It has no choice, it will roll in ecstasy at your feet.

-Franz Kafka

Wither

I wanted
You
long after sunrise
even while the wind was
padding echoed, empty places
whole.

Sawdust trappings, gold in bright rays
Shift above your human skin

I reach for you with fingertips
My own? Perhaps, but better yours.
Those roses never promised love
They wither, promises of now.

Chocolate Milk

Rich, thick
life and creamy
cold
blown glass
touched to taste
cold metal
Stop
I'll hold you
on my tongue
a moment,
release
cascade
down
Stop
They say you have breadth
from blood
and they Say
hungry birds
would starve
in space

Stop

But the touch of your skin
on my lips is enough
we'll send them out
anyway

Frederico Garcia Lorca

Sometimes I wonder if the true ideas behind our sentences can really be expressed in words. We humans have these sentiments, and we try to express them through language. But the words in our hearts are discordant with the words we speak, if not to ourselves then to everybody else, because each word is loaded with different colors of emotion for each person based on individual experiences and understandings of each word.
From this perspective of language, we are all separated by impenetrable boundaries. Yet most of us react to something which is a product of another human being, be it art, poetry or music. And in that moment maybe we do feel the same moment of complete silence and utter bliss, joy, ecstasy.

I don't know if others have felt the same way. That moment when nothingness enters your being. But that nothing is all, and you feel so complete just to witness this moment of truth.

I was going to write about Frederico Garcia Lorca for you, my friend, so far away in Harvard. I will leave you to explore his poetry. The collection "In Search of Duende" is a favorite of mine. It is the duende which I seek to find or to rekindle in the people around me, because it seems as if we have collectively lost our urge to experience life.

Anthropomorphic

Yesterday I wrote to you,
a letter filled with ys and dots.
Yesterday I searched for you
I ran across the desert concrete
searching for a sign of you, kept track
with bloody footprints (breadcrumbs).
Yesterday I ran and cried, this body's liquid
rose into the wind and Zeus, I hope it smacked
your windshield driving down the 101 in your fuel
efficient lotus with the windows up and AC blasting
your frozen botoxed face and lips. Your pencil is in
our ugly house, lying broken on the floor next to
a glass full of orange juice.

Magnets and Pea Pods

Here,
This is the flowing brook, I told you
where I played so long. And I've
danced here and I've played here
alone beneath these branches.
Last week I followed
the life-scented water to a river,
for hours I walked and stepped
into the ocean for the first time,
saw your face. And I knew
you saw me too
because I caught you glancing
at my face to see if
I had noticed you. But I didn't smile,
I only turned, and splashed
back into the ocean's arms. The sky
grew dark, and when I left, I felt
as though I'd left
something behind.

oneword: Grapes

Pop! Your toes are like grapes,
my sweet, dear friend.
They are round and full
like bursting grapes, but
your toes will not burst.

And you smell so good, like
the scent of happiness and
youthful joy.
I like you.
I love you.
My sweet, grape-toed friend.

If I could find you now

if I could find you now
I'd find you
breathing soft beside a creek
Listening to water flowing
speaking to the rustling leaves.

If I could find you now
I'd stop and sit beside you
near that creek.
And I would stare into
Your blue eyes,
watch the contours of your face
and sunlight shadows on your skin.
If I could find you now

I'd kiss your face
and hold you in the sunlight,
Kiss your eyelids, say, "I've found you."
warm as love beneath the sun.

Alexander Sergeyevich Pushkin - " I loved you"

Translation by Babette Deutsch:

I loved you; and perhaps I love you still,
The flame, perhaps, is not extinguished; yet
It burns so quietly within my soul,
No longer should you feel distressed by it.

Silently and hopelessly I loved you,
At times too jealous and at times too shy.
God grant you find another who will love you
As tenderly and truthfully as I.

Oneword.com is a website where one word is presented and you write without thinking for sixty seconds.

Course:

through my veins
butterscotch sunlight
soft-skinned deer
leap through windows alive
to hasten your pillow-marked face
to stretch chapped lips

breathe shallow

Sometimes I wade into the river
Imagine
slowly relaxing
floating
free.
water seeps into my skin,
soaking through my hair

I float

hoping fish will land on me.

What does she hide in her overcoat pockets?

Sing, sweet
Sing
Into this night,
which witnessed your only
love melt in weak eyes.

Sing soft like winter fluff,
Teardrops on index cards sing as her hair falls
In pace with this windy sky.

plane smooth her wooden front
spill oil on her bearings.