in the icy swirl
          of deep-inhale
            I reach down inside
                      to darkest
       heated flesh-fabric
removing the clothing
of my soul,
feeling the layers
                slowly  undone
                      the flay
                        of my own fleece
                          the peeling
                    of my own pelt
            penetrating
                through tissue,
                     a journey to the
                          deep heart of me,
                         cut in one clean move
                         and yet, like a miracle
                  there is
             no pain
                   just magnet-connect
                     beyond the cusp
                            of words
                              that curl from our
                                             tongues
                                      rising up in
                      latticed affirmations
                    a cleansing in frost
a constant, aquamarine renewal
and there is no past
no future
      just this prism
           of crystal liquid jewels
      flowing in
gentle,
         cellular music
             straight into the strands        
                    of our veins
and I miss you
like you have gone
on the long winter hunt
my longing splayed out
like an animal skin on
                    four poles
its tendons stretched
beyond measure
yet holding fast
with a roof over my head,
                    I acknowledge
             my restlessness
I am my own
       hunter-forager,
         both searching and found,
                     gathering up bits  
               of velocity
stroking the ribbons
of passion
stoking the fires of my
              heart and hearth
protecting what is us
like a lioness
for we are overflowing
with both strength
         and tenderness
              our own bones
ingredients of the wild soup              
of our feral union
of our constant rebirth
our very dna
          weaving itself
like heartstrings
               in the rush      
of
       time

you can only
imagine my kiss,

i am a mirage,
the glossy night
blown into
stars,

i am a phantasm
in the autumn frost,

layered like
the night’s soft
cloud,
a stream of
golden leaves
crisp in the quiet
air,

i drown in the
water of the stars

i faint, a ghostly
apparition
you can
hardly
sense in
the dream-like
surrender of
our love,
arousing our
limbs,
kisses like
the flowers of time.

Have you ever dreamt of the ocean
And then being presented with a plate of fish
Have you ever dreamt of an old friend
And then welcomed them at your door
The very next day
Have you ever left a place of comfort
In search of better dreams
Only to find that you still remain there
Within your dream of a dream
And could only find comfort in
Returning to the same old place
In the sleep of real life

Have you ever dreamt of love that filled your Whole being with a sweet essence that lasts
The entire enchanted day
And wondered if it was
Mutual longings

I have mastered the skill to predict reaching messages from an old friend
By the reunions in my dreams
Since she always reconnect with me
The very next day
And
Always took hints from my dreams
On what to write
What to say
Or even what to do

I live in another sentient world
In my dreams
A world not like
Yet not unlike ours
A world beyond the mirror.
A world perhaps beyond
The reflective fabric of our own reality.

(Dream is a mirror that goes both ways, and like a mirror, when you know what to do with it, you can use it to your own advantage. And it works very well too.)

She was the art of beauty
perfected in human form  
and I was a helpless wanderer
lost in the pages of her fairy and magic
and her name was the birth of poetry
and her kiss taught flame and fire
how to dance
and her smile was the moon
and the sun and the everything
and the heart of love
beat in her chest
she plucked a black feather
from the night
and taught the raven how to fly
and the humming bird how to sing
she planted the first tree
from the last tear of spring
and carved the first leaf
from autumns skull
while telling stories to dragons and their young
and gave them a butterfly
with a map hidden in its wings
should they ever need to escape
to the safety of dreams
where she would be waiting
to teach starfish to fly
and planets to swim
and sculpting hearts
of wonder and clay
for whomever may need
something new
for something broken
and it would all be a dream
of a dream
and in the end
it would still be a love
of a love
as we all get lost
in the art of her beauty
perfected in human form