Here forever her spirit’s glow
that trines the vestiges of grace
and burns throughout her largess soul
in the munificence of space.
Equating her aquiline form,
full exhortations of her sphere
above the mist and earthly storm
from her pearl light’s refracting tears;
beneath the shroud of her wan face
through the mystery of her orb
upon her evening scented taste
the female essence I adore.
Naked Venus of desire
the Evening Star of man’s unrest
adorned in dreams of wanton fire
was charmed by Kubla Khan’s request
and sent this message East and West.
“Renowned craftsmen from afar
nursed on visions Khan has seen
instilled with constructs of the stars
shall build his pleasure dome’s decree.”
Buried stones of enormous girth
compressed and gardened by the earth
upon these stones his Kingly prize
Khan’s tall white structure will arise
with chiseled columns that shall breach
through balustrades that rise beneath,
amid the raging skies of blue
the center of the dome of pleasure
will twin the sun at the height of noon
and in the evening’s gemstone treasure
adorn the anklet of the moon.
Below in caverns hollowed by the waves
strange creatures in the darkness thrive;
they swim the sea with lidless eyes
with instincts soul map myriad caves
with black nocturnal sight,
creatures glow through endless night
and in their spine, each tiny spark
colors dance from drop to drop
florescent creatures lone delight
rejoicing in each speck of light.
But oh! the passageway that leads
suspended between the mountain and the gate
upon these terrible heights the clouds give siege
bright lightning strikes and thunder quakes,
and through this rite on charging steeds
Khan bequeaths his reign of dreams.
The archway at the precipice
vaults deep into the rock
and the force of the intermittent fountains
lifts their two bride stones to unlock
the entrance grate to the covered mountain
that is fed by the falling ice
where trickling streams fall fast and ever
melting in persuasive light
each drop sounding its harp-like measure
as the creatures sing in the sea of night.
The dome of the Mount of Pleasure
appears floating on the rays
supported by frozen fountains
of an ocean’s sunless waves.
Luminaries awoke to this new sight
a floating pleasure dome
on waves of ice!
Each thought you sound through your soft verse
I replay them to my ear
and each next line is to the first
a melody sweet to hear
as the seamless words flow with grace
they are whispered on my tongue,
you teach them all to mind their place
then commingle when their sung.
A simple truth needs complex care
colored waves complete in white
then what this simple truth I share
has no product, has no right,
on what rare tree does your fruit grow
as it stands between the two,
where Tigris and Euphrates flow
what I write, I write to you.
Envisioning your length, your reach
as you channel to the last
tributaries you seal and breach;
yet, forever in your grasp,
upon the apron of your lakes
can I but embrace them all
then nothing more my heart forsakes
as your fruit begins to fall.
Between the rhythms of your waves
life implants her tender seed
through sunlight’s procreating rays
each flowering plant will feed,
upon their leaves they drink the dew
which escapes the breath of night
within their hearts the nectar pools
and transforms the banished light.
What ancient land divides the two?
What history of her art?
Mesopotamia, to you
wedged between where rivers start
and flow their course, their race to sea
then empty with a searing toll
pins the basin with their mighty
surge and fills your Persian soul.
Shyness Of The Sound
Reciting for me
like you did for your Grandmother
when you were a little girl I
measure the sweet shyness in your voice,
hesitant and soft with emotion. I
listen to the girl in the woman. I
wait for each pausing breath.
Selecting the pieces,
arranging the words that you memorize, I
the teacher, and you my loving student
enter into the fullness of your words
as the modulated shyness falling
from your lips changes you;
the sounding woman in the girl.
Between, in the silence
of the pause, breathing, I
hesitate in the shyness of your lips
and kiss the falling texture of the sound.
Sin Has No Place In Pastoral Settings
Containing you in words was that my goal?
Sizing you to fit what space I had to give?
Writing each small part of you
did I lose the whole?
Describing your structural elements,
the body of my text
neatly ordered and composed,
effected with a loose style,
stoic; yet, rigidly controlled.
You were to be the idyllic poem,
supple and flexible as speech,
with a rising and falling rhythm all your own.
What is significant is that to each
expanding layer of thought
I press inward for the answers
seeking to contain the true nature
and germ of your flesh.
Sin has no place in pastoral settings.
I sought to have you as my lover
thoroughly enjoyed and then forgotten;
but, I find no great ease in forgetting
all the wonderful lessons,
which you taught me,
how to write and love without the bed.
I ask, then;
“Can the genius and heat of passion
survive solely in the head?”
As I rise in grace with eyes unblinking
far above the blind directionless clouds
with the thoughtful thoughts of love rethinking
the sinful earth encased within your shroud.
The clamor of the pretty and the proud
deafened by the Art of your sculptured thighs
and all the world’s pleasure shouting loud
diminish not the power of your sigh,
legendary beauty that captivates my eye.
Aphrodite frothed essence of the sea,
Olympus goddess cloistered in your shell,
sweet cherry blossoms dress you with their leaves
enticing as your fluid female smell.
Enrobed in green you ride upon the swells
salt water sprays, the lighthouse gives alarm,
upon the reefs what secrets do you tell,
your girdle plays wistfully in my arms
each recipient weak, disrobed of all their charms.
There is she whom I lust for more than all
within her arms, upon her blossom lips
with seige of heart the warring trumpets call
the pounding ram gains entrance to her hips.
With sleight of tongue my heavy vessel slips
into the waves as darkness covets light
warm jutting winds my cross bone studded ship
from tallest mast engaging through the night,
Aphrodite! onto you, your girdle and my sight.