Category: Misc

Spring Dreaming

fragile leaves, close to the earth
spreading themselves, leaning slightly backwards
a womans green hair
fanning itself against a linen pillow
and I dream of you.

wisteria budding, winding, grasping
clutching strong trunks of oak
fingers, legs, reaching
in my dreams
they, and you, are mine.

myrtle trees, bodies entangled
silken wet bark that begs you to touch
gliding along each dark gentle curve
I dream of you wound around and through me.

fountains and ponds,
spring rain and sweat
warm water on pale petals and naked skin
dripping into swollen parted lips
my thirst for you dreams your presence.

damp fertile earth, darkly fragrant
with forbidden remembered vines
decay and death, feeding hunger for life
my passion grows in the darknight’s dreaming.

freesia burns, golden, wild,
long spikes reaching out,
small flowers bursting untamable,
magnified brilliance that insists, that explodes.
you rise into my dreams with the Life of Spring.


offer myself,
hair tangled
with leaves of illusions,
hands reaching
for a distant dream,
my heart that aches to be touched,
on an alter
that may not exist.

Between the four directions
I lie,
losing my breath to your words
frightened, restless, alone.
Clutching the feather of a friend,
I consider flight,
but am held by your magic.
I wait
eyes closed
legs parted
my skin alive with desire
that you will find me.

I reach out
with my soul
my longing
my madness.
offering myself
to you.

Midnight Painting

cannot sleep.
Each time I close my eyes
I see your hands
feel your words
taste your thoughts.
Instead I play with color,
mixing and remixing shades of green.
this too
makes me think of you
stretched out beneath moss draped ancient Oaks
floating on celadon ocean currents
reflected in emerald stained glass windows

the heat does not help me,
I rise
to touch the moon.

My skin glows
with moonlight, sweat and desire.
I mix this too
lavender, camadium, crimson

My cats find me
offering warm caresses, rough kisses
trying to soothe.
They too
feel the call of the moon.
I lie down with them,
to look for fireflies,
for insight,
for dreams,
for other things
I have yet to paint.


of dancing Mother with Angel child
tortured nights
visions voices venom
not my own.
lone Wolf
wild gentleness born of power
watching guarding offering circling.
I feel the protection he offers,
reassured, trusting, I continue.

I mix the colors of my nightmares
violently wantonly smearing crimsons
too impatient for a brush
I feel them between my fingers and my canvas.

The Flames grow higher
burning the edge of flesh and fabric
I watch as they dance to become.
Leaning back on blood red hands
I question this painting
Who are you
I ask the woman rising from the flames.

I feel dark eyes on my flushed skin
tasting tempting calling
Locking eyes, spirits, with the Wolf
I search for answers, rhythms, meaning
He wears them beneath his skin I know

tell me
I whisper to the universe

Hands Of

i close my eyes
i see the hands of a musician

every place he touches
my skin burns,
pressing itself into his hands,
moving without thought
rising to meet,
to beg, to know, to claim,
his touch

my body becomes an instrument
played by the heart of a musician