Walking through the streets
with all these dreams and ghosts,
caught by a shiver of moon,
a passing cloud -
a passing moment of perfection
in a sigh of stars,
that bathe me
in their distant glory.
Walking through the streets,
my heart a waiting murmur,
my lips now pause for breath,
one word: your name -
and now the night
(this miracle,
transformed)
is made of new beginnings.
Walking [...]
Tonight I’ll disconnect the phone
and lock all doors
and close the curtains.
It will be me and my TV,
some sushi maybe
and some wine.
The couch and comfy cushions
now a small tropical island
in a sea of quiet bliss.
I’ll start with something light
and frothy - something
that will make me smile:
‘Arsenic and Old Lace’ or
‘Beauty and the Beast‘,
‘Great Expectations’ maybe,
before [...]
The glamour of your face,
your hair now loosened in dark waves:
the sudden rightness of these moments -
all of me now here in trembling awe,
kneeling (praying)
tongue-tied to your flesh
and rising heat.
(I need - I need so much to see you,
taste you on my skin,
embrace you
and lay waste to years of caution,
soft despair and waiting.)
The earth-bound magic [...]
(I can see the shape of your dreaming
and touch the stem of your breath.)
Your lips surround me now.
You take me in,
like flames that taste
the heart of the wood,
and words on skin
or bone-carved flutes,
like a shock of warmth,
as the butcher’s hand
or a priest holds up
the heart of the Lamb.
Your lips surround me now.
You take me in.
(I [...]
The grain of the wood,
fastened and softened
by time and breath;
these pebbles so smooth,
coated and left
with the silk of dead waves;
and you, all of you, your flesh
so awake to my longing, my touch -
and more beautiful yet
than all these reminders
that night will embrace us
and change us in time.
Waking to the moment of your touch
I hold my breath and body
like an altar, like a kiss.
(I want to hold your breath
upon my tongue; I want to
weigh your touch upon my skin.)
As the light needs an horizon
to submit its colours
to the weight of night
(I want your eyes on me,
all over me,
your lips to take me [...]
You’re like a Rembrandt,
painted on the edges of slow
moving, moonlit clouds,
a promise that the world
is full of wonders,
new beginnings and encounters.
My love, you’re all the stories
that will start
tomorrow or tonight,
and all the waiting
turned to soft applause
and laughter,
all the moments that are
left for me to love and
hold you till the end of light.
And when it ends
it grows so quiet.
Logic has a weight to it
and so does magic.
Love,
when it is gone,
moves beyond time
and distance
and it grows so quiet.
Some journeys start like stories,
some like dreams.
(I can see the shape of your dreaming
and touch the hem of your breath;
these sheets, dressed in darkness,
touching your flesh.)
Strange journeys,
strange frontiers,
where some things end in stories,
others move like dreams.
(I can’t see my skin
through these fields of you;
all my seasons bound
to a touch of you.)