Lest I Forget

Patio lounging. A muse in billowing silk. Arms bared, gentle breeze. Noon-sun sweat and wanton sighs. Breasts rise, hearts flutter. Garnet navel piercing. Hot. The darkest lipstick. Tapping fingers on the hip. Mirrored eyes linger. Her frown is always yearning. A glass of iced tea.

Dreams of Dead Machines

Milk-rust and rose petals, Flowing in churning streams, Through ancient forest clearing, Weaving infinite songs, Whisper sensual calm, For a broken War Machine, Which can no longer recall(lost so in cartesian spirals), until sleep once again gleams, Like a dagger of diamond dreams, sheathed in soft, sapphire silk.

seasonal recollections

Vermillion leaves,Fall from pale limbs aloft,In death, true beauty. Gently falling snow,Turn harsh corners to soft mounds,All life to a dream. Smells of blossom-rains,And the playful wind-whispers.Let me go, lost days. Man-made fields gleam green,Baked into false-permanence,'neath Her mournful gaze.