Chest Upon Chest

Held tight against me,

chest upon chest,

our hearts drum together,

beat after beat,

and we are as one,

closer and closer,

held tight against me,

chest upon chest.

Were I To Hold You Closer

Were I to hold you closer,

our woven fingers

and midnight tangles arms

would make us a single body;

a single being – as one.

Were I to stand any closer,

your shoes would be ours

and I would walk with you

in them wherever you go.

Were I to hold your heart,

closer to mine,

as if that were even possible,

you would beat within my chest

with all the love you give me

and all that I feel for you,

drumming our tune – as one.

One Day at a Time

One day at a time,

you leave yourself behind;

a lost shirt,

or your scent in the air.

Waiting for me;

keeping you here,

even when you are gone;

a welcome echo

of nights when we are

wrapped within each other,

and mornings of the same.

You are a ghost

never to be sent away;

a memory always to be held.

One day at a time,

you leave yourself behind

in this place until,

one day at a time,

you stay.

Passenger

What a gift

it is to sit beside you

on this winding road,

dear passenger –

or rather,

dearest co-pilot,

close at-hand

in a sky made for soaring.

Paper Swan

There,

unfolding before me,

a paper swan,

somehow more beautiful –

breathtaking

– as an unchanged sheet of paper,

than if it had come to life

and soared into the sky.

All Else is Silhouette

In the biting cold,

my hands feel warmer

than they have ever been;

in the bustling noise,

all I hear is you.

In the blinding sun,

all else but you

is silhouette.

In the biting cold,

my words are misted breath

no longer secret,

and the standing hair

is not from cold,

but from the electric touch

of your skin.

First Seconds and Sunlight

When the first seconds last arrived,

they brought with them

no particular glistening gifts,

but this time,

as the old last seconds

gave way to the new first,

there came the brightest thing,

as if the sunlight shined

far earlier that it should have.

Dark Forest, Bright Eyes

To you this world has been,

most often,

a dark forest

of tall trees and thick mud,

stopping the light

from reaching your bright blue eyes,

and yet,

somehow,

you have cut through the growth

and trawled through the bog,

to find yourself,

here,

carrying the woods always

in your strong arms,

but otherwise unscathed by its branches

and unsullied by the ground,

the light,

at last,

glistening in your eyes.

May I Love You

May I love you

from the depths.

May I love you

with my breath,

my skin;

with the beating of my heart.

May I love you

in all moments.

May I love you

with the beating of my heart.

Lionhearted

My lungs fill

and I find,

despite my usual quiet,

that I am roaring with pride

as the lionhearted one

stands before me,

the only voice by which

I could never tire

of being drowned out.

With The Words

May I love you

with the words you deserve,

not those which were once shouted;

with safety,

not the dangers you have faced;

with soft hands,

not cruel fists that have assailed you.

May I love you,

with my breath,

my skin;

the beating of my heart.

With the words you deserve,

may I love you.

Warmer Than The Season

All winding roads,

and crisp winter walks,

lead only to this:

unexpected sun in a clear sky,

and the discovery that we

have slipped

not down the hills,

nor veered off the streets,

but fallen into a love

far warmer than the season.

Across the Table

Across the table

you reach for me,

soft tone first to find,

then eyes

ever shy from speaking mind.

At last then comes your hand,

there already and at last,

to hold mine,

so that I might find you

if I reach

across the table.

Under Mine

You are waiting

in my mind and in my ear,

and glistening in my eye.

Your skin is under my nails,

and you are deep

under mine.

September Days

These are September days:

unexpected warmth,

and

whispered breeze that

carries a voice, most welcome,

as the sun begins to rise,

or perhaps to set –

which, it matters not,

for in these September days,

all that can be wished for

is an endlessness

that turns a season to infinity,

and carries a

warm whispered voice

unexpectedly on the breeze.

Strong Arm and Wicked Laugh

Strong arm

and deep voice;

blue eye

and wicked laugh and

fine charm and

deep voice

and strong arm.

Marks Within

Marks deep upon heart,

upon neck,

and deeper still within.

Nails

Here, again, I find you

under my skin;

under my nails.

May I never wash my hands.

Skin

You are held breath;

a deepness in my body.

Yours is a skin – soft,

and entirely under mine.

I Will Give You My Heart

I will give you my heart;

you need not

reach into my chest.

I will give you my mind;

you need not

read it in darkness.

I will give you my hand;

you need not

tie my wrists together.

I will give you my heart;

you need not

take it out with a knife.

I will give you my heart;

may it beat,

beat,

and beat for you.

I will give you my heart;

you need not

reach into my chest.

No One Else

Let no one else,

and nor will I –

for what more is

worthy of this space,

or may be,

than just what is here,

where we have

let no one else.

As a Picture

What is the use of blue eyes,

olive skin,

a wide, bright smile,

or salt and pepper hair?

Let them have no use

but existence –

nothing but the art of being;

except, perhaps,

to paint you as a picture

and hide the art beneath,

lest anyone

ache so much from jealousy,

that they cannot help

but wonder:

what is the use?

Come from Far Away

Come from far away,

you come from far away,

and come near –

come here;

you come to me,

come from far away;

come near –

you come here.

To me you come;

come from far away.

Who Are You, Wonder Man?

Who are you,

wonder man,

wandering man,

wonderful man?

I am wondering,

wonderful man,

where are we wandering?

Who are you,

wonder man?

You are a wonder,

wonderful man.

The Height of All Days

You appeared first at night,

then in the daytime;

since then, you have arrived,

time and again,

with a light far brighter

than the height of the day;

being, in fact,

the height of all days,

and, indeed, of all nighttimes.

Do Not Believe The Sun

Even on the brightest days,

do not believe the sun

and her warm,

golden rays,

for she is mocking you.

At least the moon,

with her cold,

dark glow,

cannot tell you a lie,

try as she might.

Mirror and Sponge

You cannot come clean

in the cold silver glass;

you cannot see yourself

through soft pads

of small pores.

Self-absorption,

you see – or you don’t

– is not nearly the same

as self-reflection.

Find the Sea

Find nothing sweeter

and brighter

than the final depths

of a dark saltwater sea.

Under These Nails / There is Dirt

Under these nails,

there is dirt from clinging on

and digging graves and

scratching through layers of skin.

Under these nails,

there is dirt.

Drowning – A Haiku

Never learn to swim,

so that the drowning may come,

and wash this away.