Hide and Seek

The cartography of time
breaks apart my self-image.
I play hide and seek
with the restless and moving.

In the half-light of two
flames go in and out
of the same fire
seeking something to burn

but here where desire
flows out and in
this hide and seek
is the small talk of one tongue
giving thanks.









Image: "Lovers" (c) Rene Margritte

interiors.intendo.net/ magritte.html

She Only Understands Poetry

I put words into Her mouth,
She savors them
offers me their silence.

She only understands poetry.
A fluid shore
where words are flotsam.

I am a leaping fish
crossing Her ocean.
She only understands
the silver splashes.

Earth and Heaven

I tell You about Yourself
how You are doing
on my jagged landscape.

I have replanted my heart again.
It has grown wild
nothing can contain it for long.
I have found seeds
even You do not know of.

I hope You like this life
it is confusing.
All I know is
that You push up and through,
as if I were Your earth.

In the haphazardness of time
I will be a way to travel.
A darkly planted heaven
reaching to be
a light unto Yourself.

A Tent for Her Sky

She comes out of your emptiness
breathing for your life.
The desert comes in
with flowers and rain-
the perfumes
of your newly captured heart.

You are a tent for the sky
a mirage of Her existence.
All your ropes are pegged
to Her reality.
She sculpts Her presence
over your drifting sands.

You can move now
like a river in Her
or you can be an oasis.
The one thing you cannot be
is this life
which will always be Hers.

the struggle

I slug it out with You
grapple with kicking legs.
Watching myself die
as You kiss me awake.

flames

Your arms are in me
gathering fuel-
ravishing tinder into light.

I am a narrow ravine
Your plasma roars through.

I call You Goddess:
That opening in me
that breaks the hearts of flowers.

For Your delight
I become fume.
The voice of Your flames.

the huntress

Without Your imagination
we would not exist.
We are paintings of light
projected on cave walls
hunting for creatures
that have not been created yet.

Since wall-art
is a thing unknown to You
we fill in the details
like the colour of Your hair.
The light of Your eyes,
the small bruise between Your thighs
that drives us to build cathedrals.

Painting: "Diana" Sandra M. Stanton (c)

http://www.goddessmyths.com

the bridegrooms

She is the magnetism
that binds two together.
Offering Her
your heart is not enough
you must give
what you do not have
until She creates it.

Then you die
but it is good
to die like this
as bridegroom
to the One flame

of attraction.

her one and only love

She feeds you.
Your thousand mouths open
your myriad tongues
the tributaries and estuaries
your channels and branches
open wide to sing Her song.

If you were inside yourself
you would be overcome.
You would be swallowed up
and absorbed into the music

but you keep one ear
out on a limb.
One small listening bud
a little apart to hear
the lights choral explosion.

You listen like a leaf
to the tree of life.
You dance
as the three graces
of mind body and soul.
All three
knowing they are
Her one and only love.

Oil on canvas. "Beloved" Dante Gabriel Rossetti.

a fine mist for a simple goddess

You have to be easy for Her.
A path for the moon.

A diving prayer
for the waterfall
as it tumbles into itself.

A dance of stillness.
A fine mist
for a simple Goddess
to bathe within.

"Nude" (Caryatid) Amedeo Modigliani.

goddess of dark and light

We are chapels of infinity-

closets of light and dark

where earth and sky

become creatures for one another.

There are velvet movements

in the dark radiance

of this dance room.

A coiling sensuality

of loves need to be manifest.

There are panther paws here

that with a bright ecstasy

grasp the flesh of time.

What we do to each other

in this shadow-play

becomes the light

of prayer .

she woke me up to see me

She woke me up to see me.

My mouth made an O of my soul.

A silent reason to be born

spoke to itself.

Thighs arched into bridges.

I became a span of my flesh.

My heart beating its blood

into poems.

I can’t get enough of Her.

I howl to be Her holiness.

A place for Her to touch lightly

to tantalize with grace.

I fumble with the

restraints of prayer.

I am urgent,

I am the sweat of Her longing.

We are shipwrecks of a sky

that only She can see.

Image: "Celtic Dream" Martine Jacobs (c)

a creature in your heart

I can trace Your outline
through the soft hairs of my soul.

My creature
dreams under Your hands.
It remembers being a golden dragon,
a phoenix
an egg of flame
in Your womb.

My creature is a harvest mouse
that has nibbled the sun.

You keep it safely
in the fields
of Your desire and compassion.

You tend to its questing whiskers.
Its stiff pink paws
until it recalls itself back
to the Goddess.