Harlequin Rose Poems

The art
was in the way she moved
in the logic of all my dreams
see, I would like to make her my secret
...

The taste lay on my lips like a song
and leaves my tongue tingling with foreign fantasies
motionless, emotionless
caught speechless in the miracle
...

It was the way she felt
when she first saw me
the way she laughed
she knew she caught me
...

Mistress...
we meet again
on the windswept streets
of haunted grey and white imagination
...

No one would have believed
her wound was that deep
but death is more than meets the man
she smiled at me
...

I write America
in order to form a perfect union
assuming there is a union at all
and not just some Texas mama's boy
...

The moment left my fingertips numb
the day was hot
and harbored Judas somewhere in the fabric
breaking bread with the enemy
...

The con of man
stolen forth from the ancient womb
a bloodline brought forth
and kept in the rose's bloom
...

Most poets will lie to you at some point
they serve up side dishes of lyrical fibs
so rarely do they serve home-cooked meals
of poetry that sticks to your ribs
...

Woman bodies
nude
varying in tone and shape
texture and color
...