Black ink and sunbeams poetry

They say life is like a circle, full of joy and of sorrow, eternal as your never ending story, what then, do they say of love? Intimate, visceral, brighter than fire and more quiet than the ember resting in the ashes preluding rebirth, soon but not yet forgotten who can say, when tomorrow is written…

Hope lingers like a shadow on the sea wall it flickers like faith, once extinguished, while sorrow swells behind it, ignominious, incomprehensible, inevitable when the dam breaks will we all drown together? or is there yet a chance for a final, prophetic miracle?

Exile, your brain fogged over in passing lay still, sheets bunch like sandpaper against your skin who were you? Before ethanol poisoned the dream were you a child, knee deep in sea foam, or half hearted melancholy in Autumn, peddling beneath crimson bowed willows? or perhaps you could be found, running alongside twilight, lungs a…

Tell me a story, of Aphrodite and her porcelain skin, beautiful as a silk-spun sunrise tell me of Artemis the huntress, of a heart transfixed in motion, of unrequited love, a maiden captured but for a moment, illuminated by the moonlight tell me of Hera, queen of heaven of the tribute piled at her feet,…

You, first of the last chapters, split the balance of my heart inequitably that’s ok, there is nothing to forgive, to regret for I enter exile with your smell lingering upon my skin, your eyes reflected in moonlit pools, sharp as Artemis’s arrow full, beautiful, generous and your love etched deeper than my scars gentle…

On hand and knee sun bleached grass gives way alongside a thistle, westward, weary, draught-touched envy roots like dust in my eyes, have you ever traced the Sumerian Circle with a pen, or captured the timbering echo of Babylon in a brushstroke? Now, once again, this ink-stained, once defiant heart sheds it’s skin, transfixed amidst…