January 2, 2013 § Leave a comment

“Strong tresses bear me, be to me the waves and wind! Within thy fragrance lies a dazzling dream confined Of sails and masts and flames—O lake of ebony!” — Baudelaire.


Handling your warm mourning
colored from grey eyes.
Behold me, lit from lightning —
dance across the sky.

You connect the stars
with what we all become.
Fold waves beneath me,
turn me, I’m still young.

Split asunder rocks and ships
falling masts aflame
Reach and stretch, you cannot stop
terse blood in your veins.

Limits of life made living
blended in our seams.
Hands made for giving
Still yearn to be received.

Empty all your promises
and all you ever missed.
Eyes that look upon you now
don’t know what I can give.


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