it rains atrocities on fields of love
predatory nights, barbed wire walls,
the silence of asphyxiated birds
funerals of human parts
the geopolitics of pain engulfs the maps
revulsion,
eyes intoxicate the shadows in your chambers of delight
I change the course
I walk on heated rocks
hurt, the sound of waves invades my mind
I sail my boat into the hearts of those who are misunderstood
pain, the first dimension, runs at the speed of light
space, the nothingness between your soul and mine,
mistress of the purple,
jacaranda hides its kisses inside the metaphor of us
a lily cries
I feed a child
with grains that grow within my palms
it rains the echoes of tomorrow
asphyxiated birds
barbed wire walls
@short-prose-fiction
image: Anna Ismagilova; Shutterstock; [link]
on the barren shore
you play your mandolin
I conjugate “to leave” in the voice of trees
the air reverberates expressions of old gods
the space changes its mind
maybe it is Samos, perhaps it is just Crete
traces of death, glimpses of the future
your thoughts are cut in marble
scratches turn to yellow
delineations, conquerors of islands
the shore melts in the waters
your eyes tell prophesies
the time changes its mind
perhaps it was just Samos, maybe it was Crete
the dying mandolin, the smell of ripened olives
an unmade wooden bed
solemnity, delirium
the names of I, You
We
from the series “Mediterranean Love”
read more poems from this series:
amor, amore, mon amour – mediterranean
bullfighter (matador de toros)
Greek summer
Andalusian resurrection
forgotten in the Port of Naples
@short-prose-fiction
image: leoks; Shutterstock; [link]
lurking at the margins of your love
my mind
does not expand and does not shrink
delusion
the lake reflects the light of a dead star
a seagull heaves upward
an aching call
dissonance
the cosmic Adam does not care
that I was set on his left side
@short-prose-fiction
image: Eisfrei: Shutterstock; [link]
in town
gestures of disoriented lovers
sigh
vermeil of the candelabra in the sky
somebody gathers petals in a Spanish bowl
inaudible, your feelings skirmish
to escape your soul
a streetlamp dressed in purple looks at you
I lost the earrings that you gave me in the spring
a samovar exhales aroma of black tea
behold the time of you and me
debauchery in summer
fragrant roses
poetry
@short-prose-fiction
I follow you onto old streets
hermetic sealers, principles of dark
alchemy, the name of you and me
windows of the courtesans from Syracuse
on which some neophytes waste their time
a boat which never leaves the shore
my body, syllogism of lust
fertility of the flatlands
disoriented rivers confluent on maps
the seventh circle turns into the eighth
don’t stop
people like money, they don’t like art
the wisdom of old sages hidden in plain sight
I wasn’t Beatrice
I should have been
forgive me father, for I’ve sinned
inside the gnostic bridal chamber
I fell in love with him
@short-prose-fiction
image: PinkCat; Sutterstock; [link]
I know some fields
in which the flesh of poppies smiles
when blonde sunsets play classical guitars
I know the coffee shop in which you stop
the gypsy lady who foretold our luck
listen,
inside the shadows of the night of eucalyptus
winds unbraid their fragrant hair
a moon serves wine in crystal glasses
inside the mirrors blue souls dance in pairs
I have to go
I can’t write more
send my kisses to the ocean’s waves
don’t sell the wooden bed in which we first made love
the dress embroidered by my mother’s hands
save the letters that my father wrote before he died
I’m rushing
guards are coming
my wrists will be soon stamped
yours forever,
from a concentration camp
@short-prose-fiction
look for me my love
my body shines like lightening
striking down from Mount Olympus
I’m the tremble of each tear
which poor hungry children shed
I’m the prayer of the lonely
the garden where the virgins blush
the mystic bite of occult ecstasies
I’m hidden in the Sistine Chapel
in haunted graveyards at midnight
I’m bursting from the keys of the piano
which plays alone Beethoven’s 5th
now
call for God
breathe me in
I am your soul
@short-prose-fiction
23 April 2018 Barista Favorite: i am your soul/short-prose-fiction — Go Dog Go Café
image: DarkGeometryStudios; Shutterstock; [link]
