Poetry

within the depth
of her kiss
she felt him pass
through the portal
of silk and twilight

deathless sleep of angel's womb,
i fly as fetus
searching every drifting dream
for a pulse unborn -
the cry of the half heart.
~
heaven's tears caress,
a shower of diamond light,
burning away ugliness, melting years,
bathing every lie.
i peal jacquards
of colour and time
to enter the vault -
truth to unlock all locks,
and open the gate
where we began - before,
~
before i was torn -
ripped suffering suckle,
immortal fruit's desire - taken,
down
to walk as they walk,
smearing history
with animal's blood
upon canvas and mind -
line upon line;
killing for poetry,
praying for art,
sacrificing the purest of the pure -
more than i knew,
more than i cried for
~
and,
dying, because
they said so.
they said i must.
they, how be it,
said too much -
but reaching, always
for the fading hand,
i descend open-eyed
beneath the darkness
of wave and sea.
~
sweet gentle lamb
where is my inspiration?
my altars, i swear, were of gold!
did i not slaughter you painlessly
under the shadow of law,
dissecting and eating the guts
of every letter?
putrid nourishment,
sustaining every plague
of mortal shame.
~
yet, anon, and ever and,
i breathe
the breath of her flame,
burning the cake of karma,
undressing the negligee,
and serpentine lace of lies
revealing the child,
and i remember and know
as i am known -
the reflection of her face
resting upon feathers.
~
she dreams my life -
enduring the timeless quiver
of the half heart,
moaning under the lash
of each passionate stroke -
fatal caress of wincing flesh,
the final offering of time,
kneeling before the pendulum,
she follows my death
through countless cocoons,
back into her womb,
once again.
~
once again, i lie between shadow and light
tracing the jagged edge,
seared pitiful heart - half-self,
torn, never separated,
realizing with every cycle and refrain
earth's delicate axis never to sustain.
such bliss a dangerous thing;
would end fragile insecure mortality,
shattering gold and hinging law -
falling as delirious playing cards
in slow motion
that try to fly.
~
never!
never to be written,
never to be recorded,
not by them,
not by the gatekeeper.
she waits the wait of zen,
beyond rust and stumbling saints;
a silhouette glowing
upon wavering prison drapes,
like an old film framing electric mist.
her dream is my vision
and tears are the food
of everlasting flight.
let it rain.
i eat every diamond.
~
dearest nightingale,
touch me with your feathers,
as torn hearts live to mend,
and we walk not as they,
with footprints of fossil in clay
sinking deeper with every step,
but higher, above the begging tempest
upon water of light
through the mirrored gate,
our eternal reflection,
as one.