The Blood of the Morning

the pool deepened under me
as the sun
fractured the water
into dark depths of filmy
rakish shadows

I saw gleaming
to the edge of dawn
the blood of the morning
splitting the sky in two
and the water slipped
up my neck and into my mouth

clear coldness crept
shivering fingers
to the outline of my bones
and little ripples
waved around me
with my name slowly ebbing away

I shook my legs heavy
splashed my face
frigid to the rays
of golden headed raptures
down the all too clear skies
to the droplets glistening
in my floating nest of dark hair

silence
all mine
to tree lined shores

not a whisper
to corrupt
a break in the tidal flow
of purple star fish
and chirping shatter bird
high above the cliffs
and far from clattering
pebbled beaches

the waves reached
and flung their little rounded bodies
back
and I could hear the sound
as if a hundred little stone fingers
scrapping the sandy floor

only watered downed wood
will know my passing
a gentle slipping
through the water
my languid eyes open
to a polished depths

where they are
acrobats
of bug catchers
with glistening rainbow scales in the new day sun
flung to the heavens
like an arcing glitter to velvet dappled wings

and when skin is a fleshed pink
to the violet hue
of lapping
with tongue and gentle limb
though fluid in touch
and sliding between waves

I will find that rocky shore
with barest of foot
and nakedest of skin
dripping
a blushing shade of
my innocence
to the tilting sentience of emerald trees
akin to this my pastoral place of home
soaked with water-smoothed body and bone
in the long sandy line of the crystaled shimmering dawn

I Knew Right Then That You Would Break My Dirty Heart

And you might wake up tomorrow
with the strange taste of blood
in your throat

and you might wonder where the summer went.

You might wonder about the cold place next to you
and the strange perfume upon your pillows.

You might bury your head in your arms
and remember unusually cool skin on a sweltering night
curled against you
whispering something
that sounded like a dirty confession of love.

You might think you remember me
but I am just a dusty ghost
on your tongue
that you collected one warm night
from the trash cans in the alley
and I have gone home
with my dirty pitch black heart
to the clean white snows of Winter's hands
and the gentle caresses of Fall's windy tongue
to calm myself of your summery lies,
your heated hands
and your golden shining skin.

A Rust Coloured Season

when our skin met in the summer
you let your jitters get the best of you
laughing nervously in my ear

but your hands rested on my hips
as you followed my swaying rump
up the stairs
to a room that only existed outside
under a canopy of green needles
and sun dappled cheeks

I spent those summer nights
sitting nakedly on my deck
uncaring about my spying neighbors
drawing on my pipe
watching the smoke swirl into dim images
in the moonlight

I watched the deep green ivies creeping up the wall
listened to the little tippy tapping of the water
down smooth rocks
letting myself drift back to that white beach
watching the sun touch your skin with a deep brown
as I lay in the sand
and cursed the silence

the surf took my heart
and sent it to sea
on a boat built of drift wood
and floating seaweed
it is still drifting out there
bobbing up and down with the fishing birds
sitting on the tide
diving after
little fish swarming around the rocks
looking to nibble at your pink toes

our skin shining in the dripping wetness
as we stood on the beach and watched the sun set
listened to the waves lap at our souls
someone had to say something
but the words did not come
the silence grew up
and covered over my mouth
my tongue
wanting to gently touch your lips
stuck firmly inside my head
and sealed with the heat

the ocean called my name
as the moon rose
told me to go home
where I could dream of your arms
your trembling lips
your velvet skin under my fingers
in a haze of gentle drugs
and creativity set lose
on an unsuspecting world

When Summer and Winter Were Lovers

With downcast eyes you whisper,
'This is too much;'
but I know the most intimate act,
between a man and a woman,
is to have him take your hand,
and lead you through a crowded room.

You trace your fingers down my wrist,
as you draw me around the twisted throngs,
of careful on-lookers,
locked into their own tragic romances,
slipping shiny little glances at other parts of the room.
This heated night touches our skin,
and we pine for Summer's last days.

Glitter falls from the ceiling and lights upon my skin,
as you wrap yourself around my form,
in rhythm with this tribal beat;
a thousand feet pound the floor,
shaking the false columns of a lost Babylon.
I rewrite this Odyssey sinking into the ocean of your arms,
with my eyes half closed and your lips upon my neck.

This room is full of nymphs turning their bright eyes to us;
in a winking moment of tantalizing breath,
a two-sexed goddess controls the air around the stage,
and all eyes cast upon her;
but your lips remain upon my neck,
and your hands stray down my hips,
playing out the beat of your lust.

When we flee this room,
full of the beating hearts of breathless dancers,
and slip into the darkness of the city,
stealing down the back streets of dimly lit houses,
you stop me and kiss me under a tree,
dripping in the last vestiges of Summer.
You run your hands under my dress,
caressing your way to your own desires.
I feel Fall creeping cold hands into my hair,
and the wind begins to blow from the North.

This big bed is where I am undone,
and slip into a troubled sleep.
You stand in the corner and whisper,
'This is too much;'
I can feel the Fall turning my skin damp,
dieing leaves caught up in my hair,
all passion leaking from me as the Summer vibrates on and on.
I can feel the new Winter now not far,
crying to the dawn in a hushed voice.

They were once lovers as we are,
the Summer, ever bright and the Winter, darkening,
Summer kissing the glistening snows of Winter's soft hands,
Winter's frozen breath grazing Summer's warmed cheek.
But they never touched,
never found paths beyond emptiness,
and broke themselves,
as I have broken myself on the glass in your heart.
I watch your sad eyes as I turn on,
into this blinding dawn of dieing Summer's last wish,
for the Winter neither of us can have,
and the Fall that always keeps us apart.