finally I know what faith is

in the garden of our memories
the breeze sings
the waves roar, and the sandstorm hits
but we are safe, we are warm and
we are so happy
under this rich sandy comforter,
where the only thing to get us is
each other.

in the garden of our memories
the breeze stomps
the trees sway, going to your
Victorian home and back
and home and back,
clasping at hands and at straws
feeling the ecstasy of each
moment together.

through this sadness
through all this pain
I reach for your love and
finally I know what faith is.

london rain

the rain makes me angry
and the sun numb.

my one relief: the bus ride home:

where everything has been done
and where you are waiting.

endlessly internalising escape.

singing in the street

we went for
singing in

the street.

a rising up of
spontaneity
and the

innocence of the evening

caused by a pursuit
of poetry.

two laps of
16th and mission,

did nothing for
our quest,
and everything for,

togetherness.

all the while,
the winds calmed
to an amplified

sway,

as we continued our
browsing and arousing

on valencian streets,
past clothing, fittings
and musical

outpour.

you improvised lines
and, i, wondered at

the night.

until the bookstore,
where,

sitting on the red floor,

we stared caffeine dazzled
and love

dazed.

sitting in a perfect
frame

between
keats, wordsworth and

yeats.

we sang the
innocence

and daunting

beauty,

of it all.

je t'aime

je t'aime,
je t'aime,
oh ouais! je t'aime.

mon amour,
mon ami,
mon destin.

Valentine's Day Poem

In August
I fell so Deeply
Richly
Soulfully
For you.

My
Unspoken feeling
Flooded
My Inner being,
To the point

Where the spark
Engulfed the main
Almost
Blazing
Too bright

And a strength
previously
Unimaginable
Lovingly
portraying

A lunatic
Lost in your
Purity
your Luminous
Inner beauty

To show a Completeness
(that can never happen),
a Construction
Moving,
Progressing.

You know that a thousand
miniature moments
beats a single
gesture

(we are much more than amateur)

Although the Fragileness
Founded with
Potency
Of mind And body
Is pounding.


Still.

so deep

That look you have,
That look that stares deep
Into the soul

I can’t help but wonder
What you are thinking
When you stare so deep

Trying to make contact
With something, or nothing.
Anything that might suit.

them

those eyes
travel
across souls
meet
lost terrain
expect
vivid futures.

heroisch

he came from the Second City,
its broad shoulders nudging him
forward onto the longest journey

they said that he were wicked,
but never listening to them (after a while).
just exploiting the offerings of a

rather cold place. The cold cut him,
with toes he couldn’t feel anymore
he left, but burdens go wherever

the wanderer takes them.
tied onto the back from suburbia
wondering what would become of,

eventually he took to rebuilding himself,
from the top down, learning to grow whilst
terrible burdens remain upon him

the community without the Kaas,
like the city, (all about reinvention),
cold cutting the feet, toes not felt any more.

he had a warmth, a dream in his heart
and a song in his ear,
he knew realities too advanced

for his years. his next turn,
a reverse migration. mapping the railroad
on the wanderings south.

he went for independence, and for a love
that was supposedly selfless
but when that developed into obscurity

he continued to dream,
his nomadic journey brought him
to the idea of the west.

the truest fresh start available
in the young, innovative state,
where flesh meets organization.

detachment

detachment

is
a word
that we know a
sufficiency
about

(sometimes)
creating an
emotional
detachment

a distance

you need to
develop
distance

in order to
---and to
eventually
sustain this--

survive each day at a time.

you need to
give people the
freedom to be
themselves

(needing to
give yourself
this freedom
as well) in order

to become well

but this here
word –
-should not
create the
other subconscious:

emotional unavailability.
this must be unworked
from within,
but without losing
sight of

detachment.

him and her

him: i have never felt such

anger,

and been so
scared--

both at the exact same time

how could you?


her: if i knew that, wouldn’t i be telling you?

Yes,
well,

i sort of had to.

Coping

isn’t something that I had been

good at

(for a while now),
and with everything,

it pushed me too far.
Far too far.


her: it is time to end the emotional distance.

Love

is all she needs,

love
and support.

Comfort.


him: do you think this has something to do
with

gender?

(why she took them?)

perhaps we can look towards the sky,
at the birds.

Birds provide solace, and a contemplatary silence.


her: doesn’t seem that much of a good idea to me.

Look --

look at me,
no,

look

at

me.

i am not going to do that again.

i wouldn’t do that again,

i promise.
(but I still don’t know how and why)

you have a lot

you have a lot
more
of my soul
than
either one of us
ever
intended you to have.

dear memories

people roll in and out
of one's conscious life.

much like how the tide
moves onto the beach.

holds onto your toes,
grips you; and pushes you

firm into the granuled ground.
it chills and refreshes,

calms and enlivens,
but then-- as quickly

as it arrives-- it is gone.
Leaving with only dear

dear memories, of what was,
and what now is not.

people roll in and out
of one's conscious life.

much like how the ocean
swirls around the ship,

sinuously, kneading the sides
with a soft and firm caress.

supporting the load, watching,
providing danger and exitement.

pushing towards a destination
and at the same time restraining.

then the winds die down,
and there is calm and all is gone.

dear memories of what was,
and what now is done.

pain –

guity pleasure creates enormous pain
may it never happen again.

Yoga

I meditate

think of you

There with me

We hold hands

whilst doing

Corps...e pose.

Full moon in Hoi An

Flickers of green in a land of silk.
River on the right, of the bike
Wind rushing through free hair
(On the way to the waves).

Watching the blue and the white
Whilst women dangle trinkets.
Buying – to help, or, to hinder –
(As an american approaches).

Engaged in a book,
But soon conversation moves me,
Questioning myself, questioning all
Political views in the world.

Talk turns to debate, turns
Turns into excitement. (Investigation!)
Watching the swinging silks
Of pink / brown / yellow.

Walking by the riverside--
Over the Japanese bridge and beyond
Drinking the bottle of wine,
As the monkey watches on.

Talking of nothing, of something, of everything;
I was walking in new pink sandals whilst
Pushing the night out
To its essential limits.

Lanterns dangling overhead as I was
On the exhilarating ride home.
Bright silks lengthen
The full moon moment.

Anais, Anais

"talking a broken dream, with spaces, reversals, retractions, and galloping fantasies"

i found you Anais Nin,
i found you and i refuse to let you go.

i feel your hot breath on my cheek.
i feel the blood moving thru your heart as

i caress and palm your breast.
i dreamt about you last night--

i noticed you out of the corner of my eye,
i stared at you, i made you blush,

i moved into your soulful space.
i long to use words to make your heart race.

i know what you are thinking, what you are not thinking,
i can see you think too hard, as well.

i want to turn my back on you, let you move behind me,
i want -- oh, Anais, Anais -- i want to let you find me too.

an august love

An august love
Is as fleeting here
As the break
Between the fog.

I wish I could hold
Onto this for longer,
But reality brings,
brings me back...

I wish I could read
These to you (with
My best poet-
orator voice)

I sincerely wish
I hadn’t fallen deep,
Heavy, longingly,
In love with you

Throughout the month.
So that when September
Raises its ugly head
With memories

Of the dead, of return
And a heavy toil,
I wouldn’t feel this
Deep, heavy, longing,

Despair.

Orange

Something is very orange in the way I think about you

I can’t place my eyes on exactly why or what

But it is definitely so so deep,

Organic, sinuous and warm, so natural to me.


Orange.

It came to me, this severe orangeness,

Bright like the brightest thing I have seen in this, my favourite city,

And hopeful, simply and hopeless, just the same as the

Amber light. No stop and also no go.


Orange.

So juicy and ripe and fresh,

A citrus sting, that tingles and tantalizes,

And leaves me wanting another bite

Not a small bite, and not a big one either.


Orange.

I long to peel back all the layers

And examine your insides, to learn

Nothing and also everything,

I want to smell you acutely.


You are oh so
Orange.

deep dreaming

Chords breaking on discord
(sergei recites) down as I glide down

Finding myself
diving down
deep
deep
down
into the wreck
(like rich did)

I saw you-- with her --
Down at the very bottom

Paralyzed
(did you want it to be like that?)

Staring at her
Whilst she

stared back at me
With such hostile negativity
That I was scared, and also somewhat ashamed

To be watching.

I turned to head back
Just as the cleansing came

I swam up fast,
broke surface


Then remembered I had now lost you.

hawai'i

naked creatures drawing in the black
buoyant and green turtles
the long windy highway.

hallucinations at the top of mauna kea
angels demons cloud your vision
whilst rays open eyes.

pink, purple, blue fly by
hard lava flow rock
another crater in history.

red hot sticky passion
playing in the waves of the ocean
papaya brunch, itchs tea.

faint stars but bright planets
heaps of aloha to cleanse the soul
enough warmth soothes spirits.