Must you walk so far away from me my love? Must your journey be so distant that it takes you this long to return? On open streets I roam, for your sighting I yearn. Must you leave me in the silent absence of your presence? The stillness of your lips I bemoan. And should you come near, with fingertips I shall part them open. To feel your breath on tear stained flesh tapestry woven. My anger makes me unwise and my hurts render me impatient.

Tuesday, September 8, 2009. The flagrant flames, exploding. Into multitudinous grains of sea. As passion fruit extolled the darkened seeds-. Magnolia peels its sleeves,. Leaving the xylem open on the eve of discovery;. Bougainvilleas- too proud- refuse to bow,. Instead spread their sequined lobes,. Swaying in the strobes of twilight. Frangipani, crowned in a coronet of caterpillars,.

Taken to soar beyond high. Contradicts truth, yet cannot lie. If by chance they do lie. But not whilst caught in dreams. From death, reality always gleans. They, the conjurer of doors. They walk high; no, they fly. Rather upon high they soar. Initially from strife they may cower. They do see it over them.

Friday, November 13, 2009. for me? Saturday, July 11, 2009.