Golden rose the house, in the portal I saw
thee, a marvel, carven in subtle stuff, a
portent. Life died down in the lamp and flickered,
caught at the wonder.
Crimson, frosty with dew, the roses bend where
thou afar, moving in the glamorous sun,
drinkst in life of earth, of the air, the tissue
golden about thee.
......
Lay my bones in the strawberry field—
Between rows of dusty leaves and Evening’s sunwarm fruit—
That she might stumble on an ivory phalange,
And know me by its sorrow.
Hold it, dear, my hand in yours,
and rest
With I returned to you.
Happy the man, whose wish and care
A few paternal acres bound,
Content to breathe his native air,
In his own ground.
Whose heards with milk, whose fields with bread,
Whose flocks supply him with attire,
Whose trees in summer yield him shade,
In winter fire.
......
I beg the Moon to guide her to my dreams:
Where Lethe fog casts the past in shades of oblivion,
And I can once more press reverent lips to her damp cheek.
Her skin holds the vivid memory of warmth under my kiss;
I weep.
Come Love, we will forget ourselves
for eternity.
All the night sleep came not upon my eyelids,
Shed not dew, nor shook nor unclosed a feather,
Yet with lips shut close and with eyes of iron
Stood and beheld me.
Then to me so lying awake a vision
Came without sleep over the seas and touched me,
Softly touched mine eyelids and lips; and I too,
Full of the vision,
Saw the white implacable Aphrodite,
Saw the hair unbound and the feet unsandalled
......
I beg the Moon to guide her to my dreams:
Where Lethe fog casts the past in shades of oblivion,
And I can once more press reverent lips to her damp cheek.
Her skin holds the vivid memory of warmth under my kiss;
I weep.
Come Love, we will forget ourselves
for eternity.
Lay my bones in the strawberry field—
Between rows of dusty leaves and Evening’s sunwarm fruit—
That she might stumble on an ivory phalange,
And know me by its sorrow.
Hold it, dear, my hand in yours,
and rest
With I returned to you.
I am bewitched,
Fully fleshed in this space between us, my hands that yearn to reach for you hold on to the edges of my sweater instead.
We sit with our lungs, hearts, and souls spread open in the dim of the night.
fresh like spring and sensitive to the world outside the window,
Yet the only thing that crowds us is a funny warmth.
The kind that spreads to your toes and fingers
Cradles you in the early morning when the dew is settled on the grass
When the line between friends or more is blurred and yet it's too late or early to distinguish.
And our words are heavy yet smooth like tea running down a sore throat.
......
Change happens so fast
After all, it's only been a month
You're no longer the same girl
You're not the girl I loved
I can't bear to say your name
It's too hard to even speak
In so many different ways
you've made me feel so weak
......
Golden rose the house, in the portal I saw
thee, a marvel, carven in subtle stuff, a
portent. Life died down in the lamp and flickered,
caught at the wonder.
Crimson, frosty with dew, the roses bend where
thou afar, moving in the glamorous sun,
drinkst in life of earth, of the air, the tissue
golden about thee.
......