Like everything else


Burning—the stars are burning.
Rows and rows of flame where we row
arrows were descending like hot petals of fire.
A muscle swells and the voice
speaks between curtains of blaze.
The fire is in the world
and every instant is its fuel.
Staring, standing, seeking
with star-studded pupils
one word is spoken: fire
fire that burns all the pinnacles,
the sacrifice, the holocaust of sacrificing
love, the historicity of the encounter.
Escape woman, hold on to my wings
as embers consumed in this climate
of fire.
The stars — are burning.
Like everything else
we’ve touched, sensed
and desired in the charred medium.
Even the lines of our silhouettes
are wriggling as coils of screeching oils.
Your lips will say it,
when a starving spark devours
those tiny lengths of brief candlewick,
your lips will say it
over and over again
until I will think of nothing else:

Burning—the stars are burning.

Contemporary Poetry

Coincidence of Opposites

to stare at her
for hours
while her shadow begins
to curl like trunks of smoke
on the wooden floor

to escape the heavy
brief pale
gaze of

to be close to her
as close tangled
as hours are to years

to hear her voice
like the hieroglyph
of a flower
carved into the
speech of rocks

to touch her eyes
when the walls of the world
become calm timorous

to face each other
and collide like antonyms
in the swelling unity
of love

she is my pond

Entropy of Love
She is my pond
I drown
her innocuous waters
I drown
leagues infinite bottom
I drown
and never die
her waters are hands of mothers
her currents womblike sighs
I drown
songs that swim like free fish
my pond
the place where I dissolve
like a borderless ripple
she is my pond
where I drown
in an entropy of love.


Modern Poetry