My method is simple. Not to bother about poetry. It will come of its own accord, merely whispering its name frightens it away. I am building a table. You will decide, afterwards, whether to eat on it, question it, or build a fire with it.
- Jean Cocteau
Hoopoe*
From his outstretched arm his breath
quickens beneath my claws
as she steps from the boat, entourage
surrounding her sure steps, drums
thundering like his dreams of her thighs
that glisten oiled within his fantasy
when he falls captive before the eyes
as dark as the question of from whence they came,
her skin the almond sand where his thirst
desires the oasis of her touch to slake
the fever her vision brings to his heart
racing with my flight as I ascend
to circle her head, alighting upon her shoulder,
exploring of the mystery of the messages
I shall now carry between them.
Solomon
She walks in honeyed beauty, a willow
by the stream, lithe and supple, dancing
with the breeze, she walks before the sun,
golden in its moment, whispering the wind
as the universe bows before her feet, she walks
within the rainbow drops of the storm, the air
a perfume to contain the song of her name.
I would build a temple of cedars from Lebanon
to worship the moment that is her, I would build
such a sanctuary, and if she so commanded tear it apart
by the roots with my own hands, pulling the pillars
down upon those who would question
this beauty I watch eclipse a universe
with the dance of her walk as she nears my side.
To be a nameless mortal has always been my fate
until she intruded these realms to call me forth, a nameless
mortal I accepted as my destiny until she swelled my heart
like a god to worship the moment of her arrival, calling me
her priest, her adoring masses, her consort,
calling me by any name as long as I am allowed
to bask in the glory her warmth brings to my long-distanced heart.
Hoopoe
Between them I am a messenger
proving distance is an illusion
created by rumour shaken to its foundation
by their connection where all fades
before the history of this moment:
They are the voice, I am the wing ? only they
could ever end what is joined beyond their measure
to control, only they can choose to call this
a random instant of connection or the wedding
of two kingdoms until the dreams
crumble into the dust of antiquity.
Sheba
Hush, my love, allow my whispers
to entwine you as my legs draw you near,
hearts beating with the breath of one,
your hot kisses caressing my desires,
my song leading you to kingdoms
whose height and majesty even the angels
would envy as I bury you in my mouth
with a softness that defies eternity.
Hush, your muscles tensing to the realization
that you lose all to this journey
locked in the heat you fire, you burn,
within the caravan of my heart as it winds
across the desert of my life to the kingdom
of you where all these just gifts now are offered.
Overhead, wings shadow us, a guardian
who comprehends the communication laid open
when I coax you into a world
where maidens and warriors dance
around the hard smooth stone
laid before this shrine where our tears wed
in a communion that is holy and just and cool.
Hoopoe
Between them I am an illusion
proving distance is a messenger
created by rumour ? what truly exists
is the connection where all fades
before the mythology of this moment:
They are the wing, I am the voice; only they
could ever begin what is joined beyond their measure
to control, only they can choose to call this
random instant a connection or the wedding
of two kingdoms until their lives
are carved onto the cliffs of antiquity.
Solomon
From the walls of Tyre I look to the sea,
longing for our completion
to move beyond dreams into a reality
where together enwrapped in sand we behold
a world where the torture of isolation abates,
leaving us to find we are not now confined
to the touch that echoes may bend.
Looking to the sea, I watch
the haze of your reflection meld
with the instant the sky meets the silvered waters
along the horizon of possibility and promise,
anointing this journey of our emotions,
awaiting your return from your far distant kingdom,
eternity captured in one bead of sand balancing
upon the head of a pin, encapsulated
by the immensity of what is us.
Hoopoe
From her quivering shoulder her breath
quickens beneath my view
as she steps from the boat, entourage
surrounding her sure steps, drums
thundering like her dreams of his arms
that glisten oiled within her fantasy
when he encircles her in an embrace
as firm as the question of from whence they came,
her skin the almond answer where his thirst
desires the oasis of her touch to slake
the fever her vision brings to his heart,
racing with my flight as I ascend
to circumvent their heads, soaring over their ballet,
exploring the mystery of the message
I now carry as the harbinger between them.
*Bird that in legend was the messenger between Solomon and Sheba. |
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