ocean hungry

Once I loved a man who was hungry as the sea:

his eyes ate up my soul in eager pieces,

the waves were in his fingers, rushing soft,

his heart lay beating in the horizon line--

I dove into him and found no bottom.

I washed my feet in his desires,

bathed in his gentle admiration,

found myself once more in his strength—

the current took me inwards, deeper,

drove me into his fears;

I swam in them and was not afraid.

On stormy nights he crashed into being,

thundering furrows of his brow

pulled out my drunken love,

drowned it in deep steel blue

as dark clouds collected overhead,

pouring heavy on my skin.

They say the sea is ever-changing,

but I found him constant,

if only in his inconsistencies—

when I plunged myself into him:

weightless, an open expanse

mysterious and fulfilling—

I drank my full; it did not burn me.

But you cannot change the sea,

it beats on endlessly, passionately--

let me be baptized under the water!

and if he was the sea, then I the sky—

my cobalt faded gently into his waves,

longing to meet in a silent embrace.

I fell fully into him;

stripped into vulnerability,

trusting of my innocence,

his warmth swelled to meet me—

his whispers were the curls of a sea-pink conch,

I still hear the beating of the ocean current

when I close my eyes.

why does the creeping come so soft?

those nights when your knees go numb,

arms fall limp,

stomach tumbles out with a warm

plop onto the carpet

because

the greedy past ate your confidence,

so violet thoughts buzz on your

finger tips which twitch empty,

clutch restless against your bed sheets

as guilt grows creeping-ivy

along your hair-line.

regret!

you whisper sweet

dank drippings

that ooze down my

wrists--

speak easy to me:

gin soft words dropped

pillowing into my brain--

tell me I am more than

this skin with its

endless electrons that

burn against my eyes,

frantic.

taste my heart

if you doubt—

you’ll find it thundering

with insatiable desire,

lent me by the sun.

please bathe me

in golden baptismal waters,

renew my soul that lingers

at the edge,

give me green glass eyes that

see all things new.

if I told you my heart is as greedy as the sea

the light hits the sea-cliff harshly,

biting off a slice of its rocky soul,

drags it deep into the rushing,

drowns it among drunken sorrows

as the gulls above scream

with piercing funeral calls

to mark their grief—

pebbles rounded by sweet sincerity

lie thick and heavy in their graves,

smooth as familiar kisses,

smelling of sea and salty regret,

picked up and tossed into an 

unforgiving and devouring ocean:

a desperate sacrifice to the gods—

liquid steel water

stirred cold by the tears of the gods

sweeps gently onto the land,

begs its mother not to reject it

but is pushed back

into its own throat 

to gurgle softly 

and retreat once more—

the horizon line drops upward

guided ever forward by relentless cerulean;

small boats dance

at the edge of such eternity,

unaware of the danger that may

throw them on towards

the lining of humanity and the

stitches of the world.

only sometimes, always ever

we were children who

kissed

with orange tartness;

summer stars

called us home—

I miss you when the heat presses out.

we were dreamers who

dipped ladles of yesterday

into silver puddles 

of tomorrow,

glistening

of expectation and need--

I miss you when the night cuts too sharp.

we were cynics who

laughed

in the face of all that

we feared;

together it seemed

softly smaller—

I miss you when silence sours.

we were scholars who

talked deepness,

rushings of humanity

edged over by

steel practical will,

I miss you when words twist inwards.

we were individuals

but only together;

please forgive me

these

sweet sentimentalities

of those I left

behind--

flicker faintly in the horizon;

cannot ever blow back in,

yet scorch marks

on my feet tell me

where I once was—

I miss it only sometimes.