Lover, see from outside how I flame

Lover, see from outside how I flame
within, how the scattered-golden warm
light licks your breast. Lover, a mere poem
does not do justice. Another recited poem
is drawn into the light, consumed by flames
and floats in air like ash. Lover, a warm
tabernacle awaits me, inside the warmth
of your love I blossom. I sing the poems
religiously and meditate on the flame:
a flame breathing warmth into a poem.

I searched the banks and beneath the water

I searched the banks and beneath the water
for a demonstration of her quiet face
and its mysterious figures. The wide sea
receives the rivers and the same wide sea
knows many shores. I see reflective water
shine on her bare surfaces, her soft face
and shoulders draw me in. I search her face
for music and resplendent mantra, the sea
is undulating with the Moon. The water
tumbles in waterfalls that face her seas.

She who brightens midnight into day

She who brightens midnight into day
and gives the clouds color, she who names
the stars and flowers carefully. The night
is soft and quiet, I've slept half the night
without her form and figure. Bless the day
that gives her mystery to me in names
and signs. The simple autograph that names
her seas has given meaning to the night
that darkens day. She pours out the day,
the day that is an other name for night.

Beloved, your speech, your lovely face, your hair

Beloved, your speech, your lovely face, your hair
that dances so colorfully about your eyes
and cheeks. Beloved, the sacred textured hair

that falls in curls and streams across your breast
and rests on your warm skin. Your stretched neck
reminds me of the viola, your wet dark eyes
pierce a poet's heart. I've grabbed your neck
with outstretched fingers, held your soft breast

as if it were fruit. The dancing length of hair
unveils God's mysteries, the deep gazing eyes
annihilate my self. Into your falling hair

I've sunk my nose and mouth, across your breast
I've moved my lips. The way you bend your neck
to see the birds that nest under the eyes
of heaven! The way the egret's long white neck
is reflected by the water. Your soft breast

is heaving with your breath, the brown hair
is tossed and messy. Beloved, look in my eyes
and reveal your unfailing love. Set your hair

in place before the storm and move your legs
in subtle choreographies. Your softened hips
receive me like the Moon's swelling breast
accumulates the Sun. I'm kissing your neck
the way I drink the bayou water, your breasts
heave in the morning light. Beloved, your hips
will bear the wild ideas of our dancing legs.

The clearest knowledge of a morning peace

The clearest knowledge of a morning peace
littered with birdsong. I've no longer been
a poet but an instrument. I have removed
the spirit in my lungs quickly, I've removed
the hills with time. I find a quiet peace
with the birds in oaks, the birds are being
inspirational. For the mountains shall be
removed, and the hills shall be removed,
but your kingdom shall not depart. The peace
of your eyes is a peace never to be removed.

For the hills be removed, and the mountains

For the hills be removed, and the mountains
have mercy on you. The old oak trees shall
reach up into the sky while birds depart
for the cold winter. The light shall depart
but the broad majesty of the tall mountains
cannot be quenched. The new rising Sun shall
bless the bayou's flowers, the Moon shall
bathe the purple iris. The fires depart
with the rain that forms beside the mountain.
She is a mountain that shall not depart.

The narratives describe an ancient history

The narratives describe an ancient history
that seems fictive. She moves a dark veil
over her face and eyes concealing mysteries
immeasurable. I walk the sudden mystery
of her light, recite the confused histories
of an ocean in a drop. She has unveiled
herself seductively, the soft cloudy veil
conceals her truth. A ridiculous mystery
unfolds in scattered verse throughout history's
trials. Her history unveils new mysteries.

There is no verse to adequately praise

There is no verse to adequately praise
her, though I am deeply searching always
for an image or conceit. Her unfailing love
receives me faithfully, an unfailing love
surrounds the one who trusts in you. I praise
your righteousness and justice in all ways
and in all tasks. I have loved you always:
in this life and the last. O I have loved
your face and song, I have given you praise
without end. O I'll praise always our love.

Soft fabric falls across her white shoulder

Soft fabric falls across her white shoulder
in an elaborate display. Her two legs
seem endless, infinite, her soft wet feet
understand her body. I have held her feet
like sand or water, she brushes her shoulder
against my cheek and lips. Her stretched leg
in a bath, the reflected surfaces of legs,
hip and waist. She moves her delicate feet
in a choreography expressed by shoulders,
bare shoulders led by dancing legs and feet.

There rising like a sun before my eyes

There rising like a sun before my eyes
is a tongue of flame. O she lifts her neck
and shadows fall on skin, her cheeks and lips
seemed moistened. The water laps at the lip
of the land and the stars are many eyes
delivering light. I have received her neck
with my wide palms, traced the lines of neck
and shoulder slowly. Beloved, give your lips
to me loudly. I am caught by your eyes,
the eyes held by your neck above your lips.

Within your temple, beloved, the pop

Within your temple, beloved, the pop
and snap of music rings. Beloved, slide
your light and muscle around me. The top
of your church touches heaven, birds glide
above your tabernacle. It's said when pride
comes, then comes disgrace: do not dwell
in love without me. Beloved, do not hide
your face or gaze. O how quickly I fell
in love with you! Your temple is a spell
that I submit to prayerfully in corners
weeping with joy. I've gathered shells
and stones to adorn your neck. The burner
shapes a flame that pops. Beloved, fill
me with repose and leave me lying still.

I gather round her merely to taste

I gather round her merely to taste
her infinite beauty. The simple forms
and lines are dancing as she moves a paste
behind the textile. I gather her firm
limbs and surfaces, but she just squirms
between my fingers. I'm lost in a maze
of words and meanings, the trumpets alarm
the people of the storm's wrath. I gaze
into her eyes like dawn, the grey haze
of mist obscures the mysteriously bright
light. That gentle spirit that has dazed
lovers left without granting a straight
path. The light revolves around in rings
reminding me of all the songs she sings.

I bless the time in which my eyes gazed

I bless the time in which my eyes gazed
to such a height. The endless sugarcane
built libraries, labyrinths and mazes
under winter skies. We walked the lane
between the dim houses as she explained
the repetitions in the fabric. I flicked
a cigarette away and caught the waning
Moon just before dawn. I am the wick
that holds her flame. I examine the bricks
and spires of the churches and inhale
her smell. I bless the places that I lick
and I say: My spirit only can exhale
our love, the way I burn for you is just
unfailing. I must fly to you, I must.

How delicate the lilies when they bloom

How delicate the lilies when they bloom
beside the thin canals! How wildly vibrant
the music of the chimes at dawn! The room
is full of smoke and scents and the migrant
birds sing in the trees. I am the tyrant
ruling over meaningless things. Your sapphire
jewels and gems have sparkled in the errant
light of thunderstorms. You make me a fire
thirsting for your heavens, for your empire
extending beyond the horizon. Light refracts
and reflects off the water of my desire,
yet I am not satisfied. The Sun attracts
the salutary trees and the flowers display
the beauty that you exude when you lay.

You came in dark black clothing and then you

You came in dark black clothing and then you
loved me like I had not loved. The lace
and linen of your raiment in the bayou
saturated by the water. Love, your grace
is a mystery that fills the broad space
between these syllables, is the spectrum
of light that's bent and mixed. I've placed
my fingers on your skin, the peach and plum
of your flesh disclosed. Behind the stadium
where flowers grow, I whispered about going
into the dim cathedral. You're the medium
that everything's expressed in. I am doing
more now to keep you than before, the order
of the stars inspires me to try harder.

I'd sing of love revealed by woven lace

I'd sing of love revealed by woven lace
in elaborate patterns. The wide spectrum
of light illumines the heavens as I pace
between the oaks. I can hear the soft drum
of rain on the mud. The birds have a forum
in the branches pronouncing many delicate
songs between the leaves. The aged rum
and the sugar cane begin to complicate
our intoxicated love. The fabric indicates
her forms beneath it, her legs, thighs, hands,
neck and shoulders. I'd sing to fabricate
an image that fails her, that misunderstands
her glory and her power, and this I'll prove
through arguments that no man can remove.

The songs of every poet past and forever

The songs of every poet past and forever
worship only you. I have longed to search
the libraries for your form but I have never
found a satisfying argument. O how you arch
your back as you dance and reveal a new path
for me littered with flowers! I have wished
for nothing other than yourself in a bath
of light, your curves appearing and vanishing
beneath reflective water. O my love, grant
me your being! Allow me humbly to crown
you in the forest's light. How the errant
light splits leaves, whispers through your gown
and meets your body! I am the quiet believer
of the songs of every poet past and forever.

I seem to have loved you before. This fever

I seem to have loved you before. This fever
overcomes me in every era and every age
and remakes me. In life after life, forever,
my spellbound heart subjects me to the bondage
of your dazzling light. In life after life
I've woven necklaces of songs, long operas
and epics about your mystery. Be the wife
of this scattered verse riddled with anaphora
and ancient device. I now celebrate our
love in a tale or story, your many forms
are images of what is remembered. I pour
this spirit from my mouth into the storm
that whirls about the house. O the necklace
of songs you take as a gift adorns your face!

Lover, you rise like dawn within my thoughts

Lover, you rise like dawn within my thoughts
defending me with your light. O your comforts
are those that birds and trees have always sought
by opening up. I'm hearing the long and short
vowels articulated, the music that delights
my soul. The warm light expresses your mercy,
your forgiveness of the iniquities of night
and the awful sin of youth. You're the currency
of the heavens and your soft, curved arms held
me when I was forsaken. The trees stand upright
and the storm does not think that it should yield
to a poet's sentiment. O lover, you tighten
yourself around me, you're the joy I've sought
in verses and the multitude of my thoughts.