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Ship, fall night.

Ship coasts into still sky, Slowing to the chilled night, Black with wine. Cold howls now, to stand, In a city, Waiting for fall to lie. To hear the horn from, Many miles, Away to, A mile away, to so close, Now here. Do I wait for you, or, Walk alone. Will you dissipate, reappear, A ghost haunting a ship from, Many moons ago. I am trapped here, A soul loved,

Silhouette in nude.

You love women, their architecture, design. You’ve loved them since the first moment you masturbated to thoughts of one, trying to recall every part of one. Your favorite, the mature kind. I remember you told me about the wife across the road, down the way, before you went off to war too soon. She’d let you watch her through a glass pane window, so you could learn where to touch, and then maybe practice some more later on.

Silhouetted feline.

In shaded sun, I’m gazing off nowhere. I like to visit often, My space, just sitting here. I look at many things, As they walk by, but, I’m most content, In my heart, By your left side. I will sit here for a little more, It is very warm. You may admire my posture, My beauty, Then I’ll be closer, Curled up, On you, Seducing you into the, Late afternoon.

Silver lake.

Silver blooms from lake. Trees whistle a lullaby, I lie in grass blades. To wait for you is still and forever. I think before about this place. When you and me, we walk pass the trees. Making that sharp turn into the glow, where no one sees. I lie on you, in memory, on blades of grass as they cut me. Love poems and solitude.

Sleeping beauty.

Sophie and mornings.

In sunlight by the piano, and next to me always. She sometimes will sing, accompanying me. A cat’s love.

Sophie's smile.

Sophie's whiskers.

Spring mood.

Original composition and audio.

Still of me.

Morning to sunset, The sun will come and go, And set on you, to, Think about, How you would, Warm me, when I am cold, And you are alone. If only to know your voice, In between the sweet, The black, The sky, The water, The bitter, And sitting with you. This would mean love, In a way that only, The moon, And the void know. Centuries from now, You will see me, vividly, Unknown to me.

Still reflection.

Loving you is to know, Fog between that space in between, You and me, and, In morning light, your, Still reflection safe in my harbor, Sailing in from night. You return as a lover would, Caring only about the sounds, Love makes, tracing, Soft lines to remember the, Details of me. Between Jerusalem and Mexico, a taboo love.

Storm in a port city.

Storm عاصفة...

Storm عاصفة… I remember how you feel, With your hands, Around my waist like that, Your thighs, Around my hips like that, Asking me, “Is this what in love is like?” Your voice, from far away, If only once, To hear again. “Hi, habibti.” “My Prince.” “I’ve been waiting to hear only those two words, my love.” “I’m here for you, Prince. To make every part of you feel whole.”

Su Casa.

“As long as I can see you, Know you for a while,” he pleas. You worry… Don’t worry, you’re enough. Just to know all of you, A young, sweet Prince, From the other part, Of an opposite globe. “Meet me at six, by the water.” Agreed. You distract me, Reminding me of someone. He struggled, too, With where, To be held by. The voices in his head. Another story. To walk, to talk,

Summer's symmetry.

Summer’s symmetry, Water sounds in sync to night, Illuminated. Love poems and solitude. … Visit archive for more writings and photographs.