erin

i believe there is a great expanse between our external selves and our deepest constitutions. our constitutions can be enriched or depleted, but remain mostly solid and permanent. here-in lies the difference between friendships and loves that burn and fade and those that simmer infinitely. rarely can one be sure of a person's constitution, or even sure of their own, but when the exteriors shift or disperse, and a person's constitution is realized, it shakes one's soul to find that a connection exists at that most fundamental level.

the first love poem

paramount
poised on my horizon
imminent, evident in your effects.
ever-present in your portioned ire
preponderant
on my collarbones
along my earlobes
beneath my chin
smiling from the creases by my eyes
sinking between my lashes and my lips
laden with wonderment
wandering
with determination
laughing at my loitering with lunacy

warm and fade

i'm neither numb nor knowing. i have no words appropriate, no sentences that seem to reflect my insides. i have little elbow room, and the ceiling is upon me, but my expectations are endless. i can only write circles around the things that have corners, and i can only palpate that which has no substance. i'm neither floating nor grounded, but i'm where i should be. i can't exactly find your face in my charcoal, but its painfully clear in my head. i've written all of my questions down, but i want none of them answered.

i just roll them around in my palm, until they warm and fade, and return at a later time.

february

rising unimpassioned from the snow
the unclothed trees tremble in the chill

each arm bearing the weight
of a winter copious and cumbersome

a vibrant hush floods
the breadth between branches

only interrupted by the impertinent sound
of footsteps in the snow

the stillness envelopes all motion
encapsulates all time. seconds slow.

exhalation pauses, stumbling on the lull
and then erupts in a puff of frosty steam

up into the caliginous sky
glass-like in it's spherical expanse

the conscience clears, open as the night
lit by icy points of unhindered perception

the mind yawns open
made navigable to all the honesty of the evening

revelations skid across the psyche
and truths emerge from the wind-tossed snow.

teresa

in an ecstasy that has escaped all delirium and ignorance
her brazen cries are unadulterated
and they fall between the bronze folds of her gown
stretched taut over a body seized by divine passion
modesty blurred by masterful fingertips
the metallic flesh oscillates with vibrancy
and the overwhelming perfection of her condition
lends conviction to her myth