In Love And War

There is no mystic moon,
on a mountain between
the pine trees

Oh God…
… forgot I didn’t believe in you!

What’s these hands,
mouths, skin, and the curve
of an ass have anything
to do with righteousness…
… with beauty?

The world opens
with a spring blossom, and yet…
we’ll be the best gardens
when we’re gone

Oh mystic Moon…
they say, it’s all fair
in love and war, 

… it’s all fair, in love and war

Advertisements

Green Tea and Haikus

This is just a poem, with some
paper, a pen, some light, and the little
flies that keep falling from the heat,
down to where I write.

Bon Iver is playing, talking about ‘more
love’, and the rain is tapping in the
dark, on the skylight above.

The tea is getting cold, it’s yellow but
it’s green, and as the leaves are
changing, I wonder how old i’ve been.

Spent the day with haikus, and a little
girl that loves to paint; a horse in pink
stars, with lines drawn so faint.

It reminded me of Black Beauty; a poem from last spring, the year of the
horse, the apples, the wine, the
dreams… and now, when the birds last
sing.

In the stillness, how long do we have
to sit, to see that everything moves
even I, moving with it?

Green tea and haikus;
the wind carries well… as leaves
lay down into love.

Pieces

There are
no Seasons
to hold onto;
ask The Rose.

I can smell the
spicy freshness of Fall,
hovering above my lips…
before kissing the
pink of Summer goodbye.

There is
no cheapness
in the love of Seasons.

We strip down,
when all the petals have blown;
falling into
the rest of our lives.

Ask The Rose
about Winter,
ask the bird that sits
at the side of our grave
eating the seeds of rose hips.

Somehow,
somewhere…
growing again
into the depths
of Spring, into
the Seasons of our lives;
our skin and bones.