1.
Here our shared footsteps are smeared
with the primordial ooze built up
from billion of light years.

See how the sun shimmers,
while we shake with the sudden turbulence
of a defiant youthful stance?

Steeped in the evanescent creep
of this slow carbon crawl,
we visualize a waterfall on fire
as this constellation of consolation
frees us from the choking hands of the great void.

Feel how we tip-toe towards
the summit of our ripening fascination?

Here the silence rings out
in pleasant tones of airy reminiscence.

Blunder down the artist's path long enough
and you begin to see with spider eyes.

Armed only with the past
we are blind to the crystalline river
of the future.

Hands adrift on the sea
of your heaving skin.

Probability clouds inevitably appear
like mushrooms in circles around our feet.

Standing over these furious fairy rings
we learn that a hand belongs in another hand.

In the wormhole of our hearts
we are transported to a forgotten
moment of tranquility:

as our lips shed
the thorns of knowing

we become newborns,
sleep-drunk with mother's milk.

And overhead our flurried flock of buoyant words
scatters into the oxygen-starved reaches
as we revel in the delicacy of a midnight kiss.

A thousand glimmering eyes paint the skies
with tender awareness as we redefine the hidden
edges of our suddenly extraordinary corner of the galaxy.

High above,
the puffs of patient clouds lazily form mouths;
we traipse a trail of delight across our thirsty bodies.

This is poesy,
we say with our caressing skin;
this is heart rejuvenation overflow.

Our sensual aspirations lumber skyward like an airship
swollen with every color on the painter's palette.

Taste how we burst forth
in a spinning kaleidoscope
of surpassed expectations.

2.
As the galloping horsemen of reality
begin to emerge from the awakening time-break
we find ourselves serenading their return.

Oh how we danced over mountain tops,
building cities of iron under the sleek sun's heat;
the sky swarmed with swatches of purple
as we planted the fiery seeds of love's renewal
in the fertile ashes of every defeat!

And in the morning,
a gleeful rising will come;

for here in the dark,
we rest heavily with beautiful eyes:

hands adrift on the sea
of our heaving skin.

08/13/2012

Author's Note: Book 2 poem. Check out Book 1 here: http://bruisedroseblossoms.com/ Wordslingin' since '93, baby.

Posted on 08/13/2012
Copyright © 2026 Tom Goss