Ecstasy

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Our ecstasy was stuff as rare

and just as fleeting, so it seemed,

as whispers melted into air

which quickened beating hearts that dreamed.

 

We sensed each subtle side-effect

long months before our souls evolved,

and judged each other God’s elect

so long as earth did not revolve.

 

If only we could freeze the days

as ecstasy dammed up our tears,

we two could live within a haze,

be spared the judgment of the years.

 

We kissed for nothing but the fun.

We shared like lovers ought to.

Before we sickened with the sun

and lied like we were taught to.

 

Our tangled limbs wilt where they lie

but nature never ages.

At every summer’s start, I’ll sigh

and think of both our cages.

 

But now adventure calls for you,

and strangers call for me.

These manacles might chafe, it’s true,

but shackled, we are free.

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Drowning in You

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Old rhymes insist sublimity is this:

eternity transposed on the abyss;

the Ocean set against a band of sky;

the timbre of a mother’s lullaby;

a snowflake’s gleam destined to disappear;

a whispered prayer that nobody will hear;

and you, a mortal with immortal grace,

the splendor of your wit matched in your face.

My stalling heart quickens as it is wrenched,

while dazed I dare to stare at you unquenched,

your eyes twin torrents lethal as the sea,

as wondrous turquoise as eternity.

Drowned in your gaze, how could I help but try

to gulp life’s breath once more before I die,

and helpless sing the fatal ocean’s praise

before I perish mute beneath the waves?

Your face recalls the world I’ll never know,

when sinking I plunge fathoms down below:

your blush the russet dusk before it wanes;

your smile the dawning sun after it rains;

your lips twin rubies polished in the deep;

your hair the fur of corns stalks freshly reaped.

Horizons tie the sea and sky to earth,

but destiny unbinds my longing’s worth,

and dooms me to imagine what’s not true,

and scrawl dirges for love I never knew!

But darkest veins obscure red gemstones’ birth,

and blackest night contains Apollo’s girth.

No dawn or gloaming’s russet veil of gold

can make the scarlet shimmer long take hold.

Even the roots of cornstalks cling to hell.

Divine for now, you’ll know time’s rot as well.

The fool of fortune drooping by the hour,

with you unseen, untouched, beyond my power,

surrendering to gravity and guilt,

inert I’ll watch both of our flowers wilt.

Then sighing sink below as Cupid’s clown,

til angels’ voices wake us and we drown.

So That It Burns

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Upon the cusp of evening shade suffused

with rays of twilight sleek and luminous

my love lingers beyond the ashen span

which glistens on the bed of Tithonus.

As summers wane and dusk invidious

imbues the wilting arch of firmament,

so equally my nimble ardor swells

to drench the stars, gleaming and permanent.

When autumn showers form a breathless mist

which clings upon the face of cobblestones,

the lovestruck poet should not hope to list

what nature and imagination loan.

He drafts within his heart unspoken songs

of boundless pitch which no page could abide,

when transient moments grow a bit more long

and deathless beauty walks along his side.

These subtle metamorphoses run deep

inside our souls before we get too old,

when kindred hearts both skip a single beat

and friendly glances grow a bit more bold.

But little else is crueler to discern

than gusty changes once their course has run,

that fan a feeble heart so that it burns,

but blow out fire in the other one.