Dear Friends

For V.C. from M^^W

Lost in your oceans wild
as the deep frothy sea
tosses and turns you
and holds you . . .
kissing you with
its incomprehensible salty maw
and threatens to destroy you . . .
while keeping you locked
forever
within its heaving waters;
you grasp at any hope
looking forlornly at all the passing ghost ships
from whose masts fly the long easy banners of hatred, loss
and pain beyond endurance
as writhing skeletal forms attest
yet . . .
within your vision
but just a thought before the loss of grace
is a hope like terra firma with shades of calming green
hovering just above your warm heart . . .
keeping pace, never losing you for a moment
in shapes of love . . .
just call and it will come.

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Passing Passion - for Sylviane

Like the deep taste of a thick rich clover honey . . .
so full of itself - so indulgent - so flamboyant in its appeal
to the soul under its command . . .
a slave to pleasure . . .
and yet so full of pain - anguish - insecurity:
is it love?
or a spiritual neglect which remands the soul
to another round of bewilderment and
questions, a hole forming in the heart
put there as a gap between virtual time and space
being filled
with blinding joy,

mystery and misery 

where does this rapture come from?
for as the roots of a fast grown passion
lie shallow

the whole structure yields to the
whim of a mere passing breeze.

and thus
is not love. 

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