mathematics

time dilates

so funny in

your eyes,

spirals turned

to halos, and

spirals form

from fragments of glass.

sweet fingers´curves

against the glass

press to the core,

reach back,

and are in again,

churning and turning

in a whole revolution

a second.

It´s an ache and a dolor

so dipped in amor

the color is one and the same,

the odds are all against

but tip on the blink of an echo,

relate to one

and one in a fraction

equal to the sum.

Shivering halo

a touch softened

by water.

passing the memory of

softening eyes

across the back

of my mind,

back again.

I´m sinking here,

into wet sand on a

sinking sandbar

and we´re dancing to

enjoy the dive.

Sweetened by the press

of these fingers i´ve given

away to the sun,

allured by the empty sky

i´ve given up to press

my face deeply

into fat, fresh green leaves-

storied intoxications

and moments

away.

I´ll tiptoe softly to every door. 

Girls

i write your names...

love is a cylinder

then a spiral.

it´s a mist i love

a block of rock.

The right way is to balance

it all on whatever 

a poem not by me today...

Easy time

The obelisk,

among the trees that

turned into a desert.

When the sun comes

over its light

becomes music in

the monument’s ears,

trumpets and flutes

play a dream he

will remember when the

sun sets;

when the vision is gone.

Through the night he

will remember the

harmony of the garden,

and sing to it

over and over.

Inflorescences

June nocturne

goes like this:

Warm indigo night

melts between us.

Your eyes are

sending warnings

to the edge of

the spoken world.

You happened in

me so briefly

and now I

feel nostalgic

for now-

with the darkness

in between us,

your heart happening

outside of me already.

The lioness

who lies beneath

the ginkgo tree-

whose eyes

are edged with

a warning:

a darkness

that sort of

tangoes between us,

and then lapses. 

Paths

Would you let salt water slip under your door?

Run your fingers through its currents-

Resist the impulse to fly out the window-

And wear its warm bath until you’re all

Coral and mermaid?

If, when the riverlight swims across your porch,

You stretch out your legs on your swing

And invite him in, will you then let moonbeams

Spill from every corner of the skies

Of your jaguar eyes?

Where do wild hearts tilt?  Beneath the stars, with

Wind rustling all the leaves at once

In her refuge edged by vetiver grass and

Crowned with the boughs of a honeytree

that grew from a laugh.

Summer brings a tempest of dreams to set the

Pinwheel leaves of your soul spinning.

But unmade moments might still undo each night

Into fernlike shapes, or even turn

Into an ocean.

things that open and close

it feels like

stolen time

sometimes,

lines learned secretly

behind invisible maps.

And it feels like we’re

two notes playing separately,

but in time,

sometimes it feels like that

and then the notes close.

and open.

sum te

out over waves

for miles

the starched sky

collapses and

blossoms,

collapses and blossoms

the leaves its

fingers caress

with touch.

And to the soul

of this garden reach

both their hands,

joining the living

things one to another.

Blissing

Accepting extraordinarily

and beauty into

our life.

The sun her hands

the infinite

and treeless, sandy

sea

in meter lulls.

I for one am

slave to this desire-

I am one redoubling

infinitely.

The long spread and

wash from grey to blue,

life becomesky,

hangs like a

sheet of foil

in the evening breathing.

Spring Tunes the Sky

You stand in the morning light,

all the oceanic aromas rumbling

in your bright heart,

the hush of summer

on your breath.

The tides bring their memories by-

ones that I knew once,

when time passed beneath the

dense ferns and darkness swept

the grass.

Put these seashells

around your eyes-

to remember when the sea

turned alive by;

to guard the darkness inside with.

Your dance begins in tiny instants

of infinity, from beyond

the great river, where I always

stop by-

just to hear the light speak to me.

nearly night

storied buildings

all spelled out in

their nighttime of city

meet the running road.

the maps of our hearts

run with it,

into the night and

the trees and the dark hills.

it's always going forward,

wherever we're going...

Origin

Wind, when

you come you

become the

voice of leaves.

Your rests

give more weight

to your words,

which are the dreaming

of all the trees

you speak with.

Your hands

move easy

among nighttime,

the stars and

the ground conspire

there, softly

gardening by moonlight.

In the open

grass trembling,

you’re fast to find

the woods again-

the tongue and teeth

of your thoughts

form sentences

that bell and sound

between dark branches;

they tell the story of

the earth and sky,

lingering,

waiting for the sun

to come and quiet them.

"to too long ago"

Long walks

slip away into songs

I POUR OUT INDIGO

stolen nights

(dark effervescent glow

fades to unmapped interior,

to those solitary wolveseyes)

intoxicate me-

as if,

starting out a storytime of

life and death, etched in

perilous heartbeats as if

our memory had formed together-

in rhythms spoken too long ago,

singing made long answers to even longer ago,

to when rocks dripped

in clouded formations and

formless mountaintops danced alongside

 

a storm that's always threatening,

among the orbits of their eyes                                                                                    

stolen dreams and wrinkled stories                                                                              

line the waves and valleys                                                                                           

they cross.  and their words were                                                                                   

echoes of things they'd never seen,                                                                                  

assembled fragments of a world made                                                                               

from magazines, a collage they put together                                                                        

telepathically, in plain site of alligators                                                                            

and moths beating their tails and wings                                                                               

against the paper walls that keep them                                                                                 

bathed in tepid light from day to night

and unseen.

                                                                                                                                      

                  just wild mazes,                                                                 

                      to be lost in-    

                                                                                                                                                                                       

a mirror's stretched above the din of the ocean's                                                                 

crash, and catches the light in droves about its silver-rimmed glance...                                  

you seem to gleam yourself in half-spoken sentences,                                                       

in instants of selflessness,                                                                                            

a sandy beach scattered with years,                                                                             

and around the ocean lies your deep breath,                                                                       

one after another, sign of life, the maker your hands                                                     

the shape of the fingers trees resembles, it

speaks, with all the force of tides, with

the weight of skies and sky-scattered stars and

wavy lines.  It rides

a stiff breeze,

til the oceans end,

and time descends the plateaux of thoughtful

rhymes.  My heart skips

a beat.  It's a forest of glimmers,

of half-eaten leaves and the light they've loved,

of the lingering scent of fur brushed by a treetrunk's

stolid watch through the dampness of the morning.        

                                    

magic

do you dream in rain?

or in flowerformed colors

made to shake the rain from

the pivoting of soaked palm fronds

dancing in the wind?

is it spoken with forgotten tongues?

nuzzled or danced or sung?

hardly begun,

cryptic and

illogical

and wept through canyons

that transform you into

something limitless...?

or never over?  aching unending that

crisscrosses your body,

until our ancient hands envelope the globe,

making a sail with curling fingers.

dovetail love into figures of infinity,

candlelight and soda straws strewn

in the wide-open country,

an offering to hawks, to insects and air

Tiempo

Five petalled creature

in the sun,

six leaves turning

in the wind,

effortless teeming oceans'

currents connect

and web out,

careening softly

and senuously against

the sandy ocean bottom,

the wild peaks of

icy mountains;

the nodding bliss

of wild marshes,

the bottom of

the sandy desert.

Agaist each other,

the ocean fanning,

the tree blooming-

the world is

making love to itself

today.