The meaning of life is that it ends
The meaning of love is that it does not

Winter Solstice 2016

 A rare, bright  December day today

Mouths on my leg, I am an octopus
 Inky cloud that known longing
draws the curtain down, the thought of you devouring me

 Dizzying tentacles, cranes moving cargo
the countless goods for trade,
 totems of primeval attachment

Giant grasshoppers
foraging on Elysian  greens
laying to waste  the ravishing

Illuminated, draped with unmovable clouds
refusing to cry collected tears, the mountains sparkle
a myriad of streams swelling with their ire

I am old, dreams still moored, desires yet to be launched
buckling from haste and guarding the safety of lair
this aberrant love the lone light to winter's grey

Be still, be filled, be grateful
on this solstice day,
a darling consolation of brilliance dawning

I will refuse food, I will sever my third arm, to mate with you

You

How can it be explained
the endless hours, minutes, heartbeats
spent on you, loving you

How can it survive time, distance
irrelevance, impropriety
wisdom and boredom alike

How it grew to sustain me
in the desert of pain and want,
a water less sea of internal life

Why this hiccup of attraction
became the lifesaver
in an awful, compromised fairy tale

Honestly, it makes me want to believe
in heaven and hell,
the insanity of the bell jar

Connections

There is no use-
 the trail of apologies
the rationing of musts
the ice storage of shame
the addict's sincerity
to cut the imperceptible chains

All a fire back of
 branding, a searing
that changed you forever,
and left you holding
a melted lock without a key,
the melding of the two of you

A knot, untangling it, if ever,
will destroy the weaving of us

Lavender hue


The bluing of nail beds before soul
flees its holding cell

The iris's snapshot of rainbow's
 last door

The captive essence of cerulean
liquid sunshine

The beating of my heart, rendered
to its knees

Why I chose you, or you me