TaurusI was born on May's first day
that effervescent month of flowers
that part of spring working up fervor
for the heat of summer.
Taurus' heart is formed amidst
beauty of life regenerating with
soil-stained feet absorbing
nature's every biorhythm.
My season dictates seasons.
I am not the portrait of composure,
of refinery or flair but
what I do represent is the charge of
molecules swarming towards oceans with
waves in perpetual flow reaching
upward for the moon,
never quite getting there but
flowing, flowing to
the cave you hide inside, projecting
sardonic visions to say that all is stagnant
that what will be will always be
how can I believe when everything within me and outside me
is unrelenting, unabashed, unapologetic change?
Could it be you are just a little afraid?
Could it be I am not in need of taming but
you are in need of embracing the wildfire
of the bush on the edge of that clipse where
earth meets sun?
You who shrivels in the deadening October foliage
Unisontendrils touching tenderly the
shared heart that glues us
the same fear that fastens our hands
to scorching hot flesh
we are bubbling, brewing
we are stewing underneath
we are not waiting to explore territory;
we are waiting to forge new one.
and you will not know this brand of
cataclysmic love with any other
for I have perfected the algorithm
while others merely collect pebbles among its shores,
caught up in the glimmer of sand-polished mica
myopic to the majesty of your eruptions.
The GorgonYou were a scavenger of other worlds
I was an ember, recoiling in my corner
My reflection smoldering in your pupils
your fingers twitched at the prospect of
gripping and gritting
my black-red exoskeleton singing
your soft human flesh
There was a pile of ash around me
I had none other with me
I stared straight ahead
I never looked at you.
You were a scavenger of other worlds
I am a dying star of my own galaxy
your eyes starred as I sparkled
your mouth watered as your nerves piqued
for your imagination is far too active
too ready to taste the possibilities
The minute your greedy hands grabbed me,
I turned to water.
Cold blue staring back at you,
you were pallid, Scavenger.
You were stone.
First ConfrontationI opened the kitchen door but it was so bright
I immediately shut it and scrambled to my bed.
I quaked as I took notice of the burns on my feet
the bubbling boiling skin of my eyeballs
and every pore of my body trickling pus
and there was this soot beneath my fingernails
looking so wrong, like it was imprinting me with
the brand of my carelessness; I clawed frantically
at the sheets in vain to clean them
and I tried to distract my mind but the fragments
of television faces flickering look as demonic as the day
At my window, I take a tentative peek through the blinds
and am relieved to note the presence of trees obscuring
the burning sky and I take a breath and my tongue
no longer clings to the roof of my mouth and
I donÕt have to blink so frequently and
I donÕt have to scratch so much or ponder
at the tingling sensations engulfing my being.
Sleep encapsulates me and the claws creep back
over my wrists, neck and ankles
holding me tight enough to disallow any budge and
LiberaceIn the dream I was
able to flex and extend
pressing my fingers to the
cracked window, chasing raindrops
to the rainbow.
I dined on the obfuscated sunshine
and it shone through my pores
illuminating the bedroom
so bright, but this time my eyes
I blinked and rubbed them.
20/20 vision restored to me.
Cautious yet confident, I moved past the bed
slid through the open slit
and darted to the sky.