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Penitence... Be my dagger, be my poison, Velvet fist in iron glove, Thunderbolt's steel clawing fingers,       You, my love... Be my goddess, be my angel, Devil's hell and nightmare's life, Mountains' fire raining ashes,       You, my wife... Be my torment, my undoing, Raging dog and fire squad, Finger punishing with fury,       You, my God...

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Decay... You gave me your heart, Raw flesh, red, beating madly in my fist, Asking for my shield, my protection, "Guard it, please," you asked of me, "It's the only one I have." I promised to care for it, To feed it love, nurture it tenderness, Hide it in my chest Guard it with my soul. Days passed, then years, Love unending, love unending, love unending... One day I stumbled... And the heart rolled from my hold, Hit the pavement And splashed all over me its red of love Decaying so fast, decaying so fast, decaying so fast... I saw you cringe, I saw you crumble, And all I could do Was crumble at your side.

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Nails... Never stop torturing me, Never keep your iron's red from my brow, Never relinquish my decaying flesh from your claw, United again In pain, Oh, gods I don't trust I don't adore Keep me away from the stinking salvation shore Lend your nails studded chariot your horses so wild To the one woman child My child, so proud, so wild, So tender, so sweet, In wisdom and beauty replete, Let Prometheus be children's fairy tale When side by side with my fate As she runs the wheels over my body again and again and again In pain United again Again and again and again, As she picks up my torn scattered flesh and lays it on my bone again Her wails tearing sky's doors from hinges And devil on duty in fear cringes And I whisper my adoration Each time she touches my flesh, Each time she tears it away, Each time she touches it and listens to my loving screams. Never stop torturing me, Never stop touching me, Never stop loving me, Never stop running your chariot over my decomposing limbs So numb with adoration and love. One day, maybe, You will gather the leftovers, Plant flowers over them, And lull me to sleep with songs I once sang to you.

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Forgiveness... Forgiveness you ask. Forgiveness you ask? The crime in my self, The blood on my hands, The lashes ripping through your skin My hand holding the whip Your hand holding the flower... The whip biting the flower Tearing it off your hand And smashing it to earth in clouds of dust, choking, blinding. The dust settles, You bend, Pick up the shivered petals in your palm And shivering with tenderness offer them to me, smiling. Oh, hounds of hell Your terrible yell Not half as foul As my impotent howl... And my whip lashes again Your smile as loud as your pain Will we ever ever ever ever make love in the rain?...

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Autumn Dying... Falling leaves. Autumn. I think of the autumn you turned into my summer, So unusual, miraculous. My green withering away, my trees barren, Singing birds losing their way back And finding other, fresher nesting treetops. I was drying, dying, my spine bending down, my gait slowing. Where did you come from wild sprite, where from? With a bagful of colors you started painting freshness into my breeze, Colors into my flowers, Life and song in my sagging heart... And birds in our common nest. You were not an angel, what were you? A fairy? A forgotten goddess waking to life, A child of beauty? Or simply the most wondrous of human creations, a woman, A woman in tender first love? I drank your milk, I licked your honey, I took the bow off my shoulder And I shot you. Oh, most miserable of human creations, man, Confused, lost, ungrateful, thoughtless, in fear... I kneeled by your side, My bow broken, my heart broken, Your eyes shining, pleading, asking questions I had no answers to. Oh, magic creature, none but I could harm you And I did so, fatally so. Your wing... where did you hide it?... you had wings... Your wing torn, your side ripped open, gushing life. I howled... Forgiveness... I howled, is there any? As you slowly crawled into my lap and I crawled underneath your body Gently lifting your torn wing by your ripped side And I started singing old forgotten incantations into your ear, Of old languages, of old gone lovers, of never gone love... Not lullabies but prayers, prayers to you, To my warmth's brook, To my life's source, Prayers of redemption, of healing, of life. Stay by me, Let me feed you my life, Let me paint you my love, Let me offer you my warmth, Never leave, no, never leave Lest my forest dries anew, Lest my soul wanes, Lest my autumn dies into final terrible winter...

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Musings... You told me once that you become The words you say.       And lurking thoughts behind the screens       Like silent hunters' telling fins       Are mild reminders of the beast       Who drags its hulk down mindless mist       Awaiting life's one single tear       To break its chain, it's cage to shear, And pounce its prey. You told me once that you become The songs you sing.       Forgotten notes keep bouncing on       Upon a life's untended lawn       Reflecting wishes times unseen       From raging blue to blissful green       Till comes a moment loaded fear       And outside crawls the deadly spear And kills the spring. I wish you were the whispered word The guileless rhyme of flying bird, The never ending tender song That never knows the right from wrong, I wish you were... the gentle you, The one I knew, the one I knew...

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Random Seasons... do you remember july's smiling moon, a sparkling december, a flower in june? do you remember an april fools day, a ring in november, that first kiss in may? october was crying with yellows and reds, and august sweet sighing september love weds... a january frozen tear the call of love denies and shyly hides in glassy dreams depths february's eyes remembering the passion's call under a rainbow's arch forgetting time, forgetting pain, when was it?... was it march?... i was your adonis, my goddess you were, and summer now gone is in autumn's cold glare. we met in a fire we parted in rage, a winter's desire played spring on a stage. we knew it could never, we hoped that it may, we know that forever now short is one day... the memories are settling down in random album sheets, few times, untold, a crippling crave shreds glimpses down to bits, and when one day you'll knock on door as ask... remember?... then i'll take your hand and guide your mind to what, and where, and when...

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Never Lost... So much love, Clean, pure air Locked away in a floating citadel Isolated from reality by an impenetrable bubble Anchored to the world by a wish twined into a dream, Only two keys ever forged, created. We owned the keys. And the powers of flesh And the powers of money and insurance and sickness and human weakness Joined forces tearing at the chain Ripping away the anchor And letting the citadel fly away to unknown destinations, Lost, The keys orphans in our pockets. The love locked in, Safe, protected in its layers of memories, Lost, Never lost...

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Sparkling Lights... God of my ancestors, I don't pray much to you, Actually I hardly pray at all Because, as you know, I don't really believe in God. But this time please let me do it formally, And pray, You know, you can do it for me because we are friends nevertheless. Put the spark back in the blue Paint the laughter in the hue Let her memories retain Just the beauty of that pain When we knew we couldn't be Yet, in tender whispers we Planted flowers, planted seeds, Passion's rare exotic weeds, Dreams unwise and wishes some Though we knew that time will come When we'll lock the secret gate Pawn its key with mistress fate, Grows the garden, cannot die, Blue its heart and blue its eye. Thick the roots and sunken deep, Smile my lover, don't you weep, Let my kiss play on your lip As those memories you reap. And let her taste all world's delights As she regards those sparkling lights

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Friends Of The Heart... Memories, The beauty of yesterday Locked away under the powerful lock of time Unbreakable, Ineffaceable except by the frailty of our minds And the filters of our tinted wishes. And the pieces of paper Scribbled hastily on the back of parking tickets And empty sandwich bags, Carefully stowed away, Remove the frailty Untint the filters And let us again have that unobstructed view Of memories In all their virginal beauty. We knew we don't stand a chance, Brittle humans fighting the mighty currents of life Yet we plunged in Paddling madly with our body, feet, one hand As the other encircled savagely the other's chest refusing to let go... We lost the war, The monster called life dragging in all its reserves And waging a combat intent on annihilation Irrelevant of costs, loss, destruction. And it won. But we won one battle, one singles short and glorious battle, Oh, the sweetness of victory, The enchanting few years of life and love and glow Written in stone, written on paper, Locked in time and in the pride of our hearts, In memories, Never to die, always to cherish. Life is licking its wounds, Bleary and indifferent in its stride Looking down on us in its pitiless manner And moving on to bother other humans. We stay behind, the battle field deserted, We know we lost Yet we smile with puny human superiority Looking at the mountains we seeded in our battle's wake And know that this is one battle we won losing it. Stupid, pitiful, ignorant life. Our ways may have been separated, Our hearts may have been left bleeding, Yet with stubborn insistence we climb to our feet again The spark regaining the eye Finding new beauty, new loves, new reasons to smile, The steel of memories guiding our ways And knowing that whatever the power of those implacable currents may be We are never farther than One handhold, One heartbeat, One memory away. Friends of the heart, The sweetness of love finding final refuge In the warmth of never ending friendship.

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th's... Thin this wail striding my heart Threading through my fledgling art Heed my plea Do set me free from thee... Mountains hugged your rocky nest Lover's hell your fire's zest Dreams and wine And love divine were thine... Rivers ran through soggy verse Soaked in bliss and loaded curse Spell and vow Are dimming now and thou... Let the garden's flowers sing In your heart be always spring Do not fear I'm always near thy tear...

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Gone Is... Gone is blue, Hell's gardens dew, Gone to worlds of heartbreak hue, Depth her eyes dead embers glow Long her path grey ashes sow, Dies her garden... flow tears, flow... Gone is green, Hell's fires queen, Gone to worlds of pain unseen, Depth her chest ice gardens grow Painting breasts the cold of snow, Dies her music... flow tears, flow... Gone is life, the blue of streams, Gone is life, the green of dreams, Depth my thoughts death's blizzards blow Crawling nightrise ends the show, Dies my sunshine... flow tears, flow...

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Blue In Blue... The blue in your blue The one which I knew Like you, like your blue. The gold left untold As moments unfold And memories mold. The blue and the gold Your beauties of old, The gold and the blue You adorable shrew...

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Stratums... You weren’t born. You don’t exist. You never existed except in those fertile fields of my crazed imagination as I let loose the galloping horses I tied myself to and each took its own whim and direction trying to show me the infinity of choice and of pain and of beauty finally meeting, foaming at the mouth at the other end of somewhere close to nowhere pieces of me dangling from each smelly rope circling each sweaty neck and yet patched-together me still did not find your equal, not even after I tried camels, and then crows, and then whales. Tired, torn. Gave up. Admission. Jealousy? What jealousy? Love? What love? Lust? What lust? What? Define the non definable. As I roam above and under and in and out and around and all over my lover and watch you one bed away, seven seas between us, And you roam under and above and out and in and around and all over your lover and watch me one bed away, seven seas between us, and we care not for the slapping bellies and groaning throats and sweat spills squishing across seven seas and one more colliding and sizzling and mingling knowing there is no place and no reality to take our reality and accept the impossibility of sharing skin and flesh and bones at a touch of mind to mind and thought to thought and nothingness to nothingness. Where is this world? you ask. What world? I ask. And you admit to a moment’s insanity and return to world carrying groceries and smoking cigarettes and cars and banks and roads and sex and edible food and smellable flowers the only world and reality, knowing sanity lies in in-between worlds where we never meet and never love and never lust and always meet and always love and always lust and words you birth I carry and words I spit you suckle the lands forgotten by the once-upon-a-timers and unknown by the once-upon-a-lovers and skin and flesh and bones dematerialize into the most famous of untold stories carrying that uptold non definable into the realms of sublimity to reign absolute. You smile, I smile, knowing me insane, knowing you insane, and skin under skin and between skin and twined with skin and fingers under fingers and between fingers and twined with fingers and gasps under gasps and between gasps and twined with gasps and as we pull apart once more smeared with our insides outside after our outsides met inside our ravenous humanity bellowing its satisfaction, we return once more to groceries and cigarettes and cars and banks and roads and sex and edible food and smellable flowers sole owners of the knowledge of non definable.

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Glass Garden... Stepping around, almost no place between the thousands and thousands of flowers thin, fragile glass petals of reds and of yellows and of blues, thin, fragile glass leaves of greens and of browns and of withered, shards here and there and here cutting the careless heel to the depth of blood and muscle and the careless heel carelessly threading on feeding the desiccated ground its pulsating life and warmth and memories. I started north, you started south west, knowing the random patterns will cross time to time, steps falling inside steps, so rarely, bodies falling into bodies... ever? the smell of melting snow all powerful all encompassing coalescing with the fragrance of consumed intimacy and fractured finger bones and torn silk. I stepped on a toe... did it really happen? you pulled away yet grabbing my arm... did it really happen? we turned we clashed we crashed hundreds of petals exploding between us into a shower of cutting dust settling on skin and in skin and penetrating bleeding channels coloring thin veins into green and yellow and sparkle as rubbing flesh into flesh turned to raging fantasy and painful inebriation galloping ahead of ecstasy dragging the colorful dustcloud through brain chambers and eyeducts and out of bitten lips into thirsty throats scrapping delights right into the ends of nerves and fingers and soft intimate landscapes. You kept trekking your way smiling drunkenly or the other way around pieces of cloth and flesh missing from my attire and body clasped in your fist dropping in small pieces in your wake maybe marking the path to return? or to follow? looking for that exit only in order to avoid it and listening to my parting steps... did you hear me stumble again and more and everafter my fist clasping in turn pieces of cloth and silken skin matching perfectly those holes presently decorating the perfection of you? Din, noise, fanfares, jets, supersonic blasts, we cut through rows of marching humans celebrating ephemeralness carrying our eternal memories inside those scars that will keep re-opening each time we wander by intentional mistake into the garden and step on those glass flowers sprouting like a magical carpet from the imprints of our previous steps in wait for the scrapping sounds heralding once more and again the debacle of those never ending returns. See, my tongue is bleeding, I showed you the sparkling rainbow cutting my mouth into countless hemispheres. Countless hemispheres is incorrectly expressed, you said showing off your mind reading and sticking your tongue out to me in impertinent response and adamant invitation. Those miles separating us and we still could see each other’s tongue... ridiculous, impossible... Not really, you lashed out smashing me against the wall to prove your point and the creaking sound of broken glass underneath our soles and enveloping our rolling bodies was the ethereal music proving us both wrong... this was not reality, neither fantasy, nor dream, this was a new world we its sole inhabitants and it was the snapping tips of our fingers turning it on and off at will with the rest of humanity never able to explain those erratic flares in their sun.

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The Wrong Shoe... It was the wrong kind of shoe. It was the wrong material - not glass, the wrong color - not pink, not made in the People’s Republic of Fairies but in the other one, it wasn’t even a dancing shoe but a slipper chewed by several generations of dogs. Sorry, left the best for the end - it was a male shoe. Just for a few nights, you said, for old times sake... moving into it wearing your pink baby-doll pj’s, your clown size padded slippers with the frightening rolling eyes, your pillow for two (just in case) and blanket for one (cozier, just in case too...). I knew to have lost much of the touch, much of the magic... I still had the keys to the garden, you did not change the lock. I picked up a bunch of flowers crushed them in my hands and strew the glinting shards inside the slipper, over your head and inside your hair and inside your baby-doll pj’s... it was so nice to hear you giggle as your eyes followed me and the glinting dust tickled your skin... do you want to glean some of it? you stuck your tongue baring a glinting breast there where I could not touch it and just watch it and wonder at the charms that will forever be promised me, unattainable. Yes, I answered, knowing this to be the correct answer for the few nights when you will sneak through my closed eyelashes into my bed and offer me your pink and our memories. I woke up next morning finding the shoe empty and the unmistakable perfume of making love to me.

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Glass Tale... Does a glass flower grow? Do glass bees pollinate and glass beetles scurry and glass birds chase glass worms down glass burrows? Yes, they do. Yes, it does. Walk the path carefully, it is accurately marked with glass letters on glass panels, see... those unforgettable glass moments the first letter the first smile the first blush under the veil of distance and incinerating words, the first poem, Making love for the first time when miles mattered no more than dust in the sun, the first fight, terrible, as terrible as the making up, The miles dying to zero, sight, touch, smell, kiss, baring the flesh, invading the flesh the first time, the last time. See, told you, they grow, look at the fields and the forests and your skin in front of the blushing mirror glass flowers and glass flowers and glass flowers, Leave the door marked exit open, one day you may want to enter this way same as through the one marked entrance, or emergency, or service only, or machines room, or by invitation only... Don’t worry about invaders, there are no invaders in our garden, only bees pollinating and beetles scurrying and birds chasing worms down burrows. Don’t inhale for as long as your passage or glass dust will cut your lungs to ribbons and kill you, don’t exhale either as your breath will melt the glass dust into heavy blobs hanging on to flower heads and kill us, just pass through and leave the exit door open for as long as it takes for the garden to live. And how long it takes? Just count from one to eternity, starting now.

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Making Love On A Bed Of Glass... did you ever make love on a bed of broken glass nothing between flesh and shard but the bareness of skin? may I offer you the dubious pleasure of making love on my bed? I will glean seven armfuls of glass flowers seven bald patches in our garden screaming vengeance as I pour stems and petals and leaves upon the wooden bed to crush with bare fists and knees and soles and drag your naked body underneath mine to roll and yelp and howl your blood mixing with mine painting the transparent crystal red like the Niagara falls, like the Sahara desert, like the Amazon jungle, as glass dust covered flesh penetrates glass dust covered cavities and the rasping sounds are not as painful as the thoughts of feathered beds and pillows empty of glass and empty of us. I will lick you clean, immaculate of blood, and immaculate of glass, and immaculate of slivers, and comb you immaculate smooth, and dress you immaculate white, then fill my mouth broken glass pearls and spray upon you the beauty of broken suns and of broken poems and of broken droplets of blood. no, you never made love on a bed of broken glass, else, you would not bleed so much.

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Love Of Glass... The door was made of glass gossamer thin, fragile, I was afraid to knock lest it shatters, I knocked... it did not shatter, it opened smoothly, not even one creak. I entered, the desolate sound of glass grass crunching under my feet accompanying each step. You were there as well painting glass blades, this one green, the grass did not crumble underneath you. How do you do it? I asked. Painting? Floating. I’m made of glass too, you said painting another blade, red, and offering yourself to me knowing you will break. We made love and you broke, the glass raining. I cried one thousand and one nights then one thousand and one days there was no day between nights and no night between days in your garden. Then you were there again painting a blade yellow offering yourself to me breaking the glass raining. I cried again one thousand and one nights then one thousand and one days and you were there again... How many times? I asked. As many as there are one thousand and one nights and days in our forever, you answered, painting the next blade, this time blue.

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