the somnambulists

The somnambulists
walk slowly,
precisely,
through the stucco promenade
made from figures
in their
minds.
Each brick,
is a fantasy
linking dreams
and gravity
like the soft, pink
umbilical cord.

Their processions,
in the darkest
space
of their minds,
will surely end
with coming of
each day.

September afternoon

I remembered that
September afternoon;
(already faraway)
how her eyes,
with strong velvet,
found desire
in the dusty photograph.

Hercules at night

Hercules weaves
the mountainside
like a fallen oak.
The moon seems distant,
surrounded by frozen stars,
as he drinks
the night.

The budding Persephone

The budding Persephone
drinks wine
surrounded by cypresses.
The crescent shadows
flowering from her
soft, olive hair,
cling at the earth.

I like the quiet

I like the quiet.
Watching the mute
grass
blow in the silent
breeze;
Seeing the soft, pink
lights
reflect off the stone wall;
Relaxing my body,
letting my day
go,
I like the quiet.

a scene

The ideal of beauty is simplicity and tranquility.--Goethe

Black
as a nightly shadow
in the middle of a
bright day,
the feline figure
sits
perched
on the uneven,
stone path.
Surrounded
by flowers
of all colors and
shapes,
she
(no doubt feminine)
stares into the
end.
A tree,
darkened trunk,
shadowed
by leaves aplenty,
stares back,
waiting,
waiting.

small verses

small verses

fill bits of emptiness.

furious petals

become natural drops

This will
emulate my stillness.

young

They were young
to the world.
Only she would compose
her vivid dreams.
Soon, he was like
her silhouette:
black,
suffering,
surreal.

Who questions
the blue, night voice,
brilliant
in my sky?
Listen, perhaps you
think I bring
secret poetry,
but I blush
and walk away.

when peaches
are ripe
and white
and full of light,
that is the moon
we are underneath
tonight.

moon

TALL,
proud moon:
rising about three inches
(from my perspective of
the ground).
Now I know
what Langston Hughes
saw that night in Harlem,
as he sat
listening to the world screaming.
This isn't a sliver of goodness,
but a giant,
ripe peach
floating in the night sky.

motivation

On every wall,
in every bathroom,
in every school,
there hangs numerous
inspirational,
reflective,
soothing,
pictures, quotes, poems.
I believe that their purpose
is to
inspire,
cause introspective thought, and
calm
teachers everywhere.
Instead,
they numb those
who are looking for escape,
and tease those
who need to escape.

Far away landscapes,
deep forests,
colorful sunsets,
only create a longing
desire
to leave your present life
in order to discover
other beauties.

Look within.

believe what one chooses:

you're ne'er too rich
in devotion,
amor,
soft breath,
desire,
and perhaps,

emotion.

you understand
a woman
when the question is:

how?

translucent

You were translucent,
yet once the
magic embraced
my universe,
this smoke
here
lingered.

You must listen,
perhaps
for an eternity.

And some accrue
lonely shadows
to make beauty
seem now.

But I pass through,
and I know
I can
belong.

patience

You'll strike beyond

anything

as                  long                  as
the planets
get crossed
in time.

laughter

My laugh always
surprises me:

Its rise in pitch,
slowly, but not
steady,
until it hits a
confused apex.

Its full voice,
which seems
funnier than
necessary.

I can hear it above
the coffee drinkers,
cigarette smokers,
flirtatious students.

I continue to
listen;
continue to
hear;
this,
my friend.

The hypnotic birds
are nearly in flight.

While they wait,
the windy night
rolls
quietly into
oblivion.

solemn aspirations

solemn aspirations
dwell:                                 statues
in                   thought.
The light is found
preserved
from centuries of

hate

patiently seeking
the meaning.