The waves tossed about in her soul
while I drifted perilously in the deluge
all the while wondering what monsters swam below.

With thunder in her voice
and lightning in her eyes
I knew that the blood of the gods
still pumped through her veins,
but I was still just a man adrift.

I longed to calm her tempest,
but I wanted it to rage just as bad.
Her lips were salty and solid,
and gave no hint of the hurricane within.

She was a storm destined to be wild.

She was the finest of vintages,
and of her love, I drank deeply-
-knowing that my drunkenness
would be worth any hangover,
for a sweeter wine
I have not tasted.

Beholding you would make Venus blush in her garden,
madly jealous of the curves of your lips,
and there she would smolder
like some jealous rainbow
unable to be content in her own shimmering
because she still revolved around the sun,
and not the other way.  

I'd wait there -
under the moonlight
- among the fragrant petals
with the gurgling of some small fountain
somewhere off in the distance

We are elaborate animals made of wood
earth, flowing like water into the veins
of the sky.

The sun being a fist of lava, and the night
being an enticing molar—we are
a succession of tides, being swallowed
by successions of day; and how beautifully
we wilt in the presence of joy.

The moon may be nothing
but a luminous
stone

and to eat the poetry of it
is how one chokes
on love

but the romance of morning
is that if by midnight
you are alive, that is joy.

the bells peal
toneless
in the hollow place
of the night

and the moon is
the cold light
of tenuous dreams
seen through
the strained fabric of
a threadbare sky

shadows of midnight words
pulled long and thin
by the weight
of expectation
sit by the road
waiting for redemption
that never comes

pallid night flowers bloom
in hidden places
adorned by a feeble glow
without scent
in their ragged flesh

words whispered by
constrained throats
are consumed

devoured by the ravening silence
blasting down
from oblivion

I gave half of my heart to Jesus
And the other half wallows in doubt
Casting dark shadows over my soul.

Why does the road always seem crooked
When the Bible tells us that it is straight.
Is it because I can’t read the map clearly.

Why are my every-days so dark and gloomy
When God’s love shines with such a bright light
That only requires opening the shutters.

Biblical verse is awash in enigma;
Where one place orders that you must stand tall
And another proclaims that you need to bow down.

The  half I committed is safe and contented
The half that is doubtful is lost and alone
The two halves at battle have left me immobile
For neither has won and only I lost.
               ljm