Archive

Bluest lake.

Blue is my smile, Over the bluest lake. One tree, On a summer day, Standing center, Overlooking how exceptional, You are to me. You, Behind me, Resting, Your arms, Wrapped tightly, Around the naked parts of me. Each of your legs, Pressed into each side of my thighs, Not setting free. Locking me to you, Your fingers, rough, around me. It is calm now. Not letting go. I feel my spine curling up into,

Buttercup.

You walk closer to me, through buttercups, snapping one from its stem. Buttercup, can I trust you? Luminous, your army of sweetness and invitation. Your touch between the thin air of your skin and my skin, now giving to me my only desire and understanding of sensation. I drift, buttercup. Buttercup, can I bask in the place you sleep in. In sun’s giving warmth, or, should I run from you, the second I have the chance.

By you.

I rest here peacefully, Among trees and water, and, In love, Shaded from the world, Between earth and you. Floating in reflection, Casted by shadow and warm sun, Dark and light, Southern mood, and, Humid moon. Excerpt from Between the South and the North.

Curled up.

Sleepy girl, sleep, Curled up. I’ll watch over you, You nap. I’ll catch your dreams, If only they escape. Don’t worry, I’ll be here, Sweet girl, When you wake. Excerpt from A cat’s love.

Dão.

Sit with me to sip slow a glass of red wine, last bottle from Portugal, Dão. Sweet, peppery-warm when I savor and swallow. Heating me, slow from inside, I feel my lips redder now, your eyes of golden dusk, ready now. Slow, until the candle wick no longer glows, we sit across imaging how this night might go, you are delicious, deep within your ambient pour and flow. Excerpt from

Duke.

Through sunlit window, I see you walk towards, Hearing the door, Close behind you, Closer to four, In the afternoon, in a city, On a Saturday, In the latest and hottest part of, June. He’s not here with me, and no mind towards you and me being here alone. The openness of you and he, fighting between carnal and care, an energy magnified by a 100°. You tempt wanting more, sometimes.

Duke.

Through sunlit window, I see you walk towards, Hearing the door, Close behind you, Closer to four, In the afternoon, in a city, On a Saturday, In the latest and hottest part of, June. He’s not here with me, and no mind towards you and me being here alone. The openness of you and he, fighting between carnal and care, an energy magnified by a 100°. You tempt wanting more, sometimes.

Falou. (He spoke.)

Distante are you. Atrás de mim. Too far from me, From the words I hear you speak. “Close your eyes, mami…” Falou. You tell me of your love, From behind, And what you’ll do to me, In Porto, da mar. Endless sea, I hear you breathe. Closer now, mi amor. “Neshama sheli.” Falou. Looking out, In between, Your feet now, I lean back into you, And with ease of breeze,

Gerónimo. Local fresh market, on a Thursday.

Gerónimo spotted again, at later date and location. Local fresh market, on a Thursday. Gerónimo: Psst… Meira. Cara, pi favuri. Listen, I’ve been thinking… Meira: Hmm… I am not making eye contact. Gerónimo: Let’s all get along. Meira: But you’re a chameleon. How can I trust you. Gerónimo: (Gasp) Amuri miu… I’m a gecko. Meira: Same thing. Gerónimo: No, quite different. Meira: How? Gerónimo: Oh, just in what we look like, how we live, talk, habitat, you know.

Guitar and tulips.

I love you, When you smile while playing, Your guitar. Granada, By Albéniz, With tulips romantic and bright, You gave to me a moment before. I love you, In the middle of the floor, Sitting and fading away into the, Afternoon, and into the, Landscape of you, and, Your kind of mood, Naked in your arms, Later on. Excerpt from Between Jerusalem and Mexico, a taboo love.

Habibti.

Habibti, Where are you, I’ve been thinking a lot. Truth is, I cannot stop thinking about. You coming to me like that… Your scent, and those eyes, can never stop reminiscing how shades of green capture light. You and that perfume, bergamot and fruit under city night. I can still taste you on my tongue and in my throat. You feel so safe, ma. I share things in the dark with you, I share things while caressing all the innocent parts of you.

Haunting and sweet.

Pink with a purple interlacing darker mood, and I feel sensual. Haunting and sweet in sync to me. Me in a romance, plus dark, plus love, and a story divided by nature, and landscape, and the water and sky all around, multiplied by a lover who will love only me. Infinitely in blue and specks of gold, my undertones surrounding the two. Having me wait, cliffless and boundless. Falling and floating within now, tomorrow and yesterday on a string.

I carry you.

I bask in suns of your countries marked in lines on your face, years too soon. Deep in you I am with you, I see you, in your brown-hazel eyes, when you speak. It fills me to know what is most cherished by you, what makes you glow, what broke you down, and how to make you whole. I feel the sand. Somewhat wet and cushioning my feet, and all the arches and the reflex points making me lean into you, unequivocally.

I glide under city and Gods.

I float on land covered by water, Peacefully, gracefully, and, Wherever I want. I glide under Gods of, City, Cloud, Moon, Sun. And where sunshine and rain meet as one. I hear the new and old concrete, And the sounds, and, Buildings forcing the, Bend in air. The breath I share with you between, A window reflecting me, and, Each pier. And the current moving me. Drifting indefinitely, In a definite world.

I meet you between a season.

I meet you between a season, warmer than autumn, and softer than summer. Where cold turns hot, and green turns to hazy rust. I hate you for those times you tied me to the bed. You told me, “You know… Maybe I’ll leave you like this for a while.” And I love you for the times you centered me in the bed, and held me in place for hours. When you turned church into Israel, and water into wine.