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Surrounded by blue.

I am swept up into you, Infinite and patient, powerful love. I, soft clouds, wrapping and reshaping, Caressing your trunk, Leaves, And extremities. Space between to gaze upon the, Unyielding wonderment of you. You, Surrounded by blue. Excerpt from Between love poems and solitude.

Tangerine.

Tangerine tides, I lie down, Surrounded in the quiet, Of a wave, And its crash. You, in the room, A stroll back, Sleeping, Beautifully, With the side of your face, Showing a smile, While you dream. Rest, my Prince. From last night, Before orange rose, You decide, To get me drunk, On strawberry wine. Licking whip cream off, Key lime pie. With me held down, By the weight of yourself,

Té amo, from el gato.

I sit on the bed my human sleeps on… I like to wait, Sit and insist, She, Come to me, to, Hold me, tight, But not too close. It is 10 o’clock. Where is she? One day, I will be a ghost. She will wish I was here, but, I will be on the other side, Flip side of, This world and universe. She will be sad not to pet me anymore,

Tell ‘em Gerónimo sent you.

Gerónimo: Hey, psst… You Meira? You the one heading north. Me and my boys need you to do some work of an inconspicuous nature for us down here… We need you to frame, I mean courier some packages, sensitive photographs let’s say, back and forth. Understand? Me: I don’t really… Gerónimo: I ain’t asking… Look for Bugsy, he’ll take care of everything, and your accommodations. Me: I already have a…

The everyday.

I value powerful art, no matter difficulty to see, read. And despite sometimes disturbing nature, once understanding from other side. I see this scene with heavy heart. And I see in praised photography too many times. I think, what will one buy after leaving this animal? And what will one eat later in day, leaving this landscape? No being on earth has right to take life from other for self, enslave for self, to satiate self.

The Simona.

I met a flower-like figure of rare, unworldly traits, designed of mythological moods, shadows and soft, pink light. Aphrodite herself would want to pluck, and keep her for herself. I look even closer in the black and white, me unable to stop admiring her vintage effect, of old, magical places. Places from time travel and paper photographs. And a glow from within her, blinding me, so much so, I take steps back.

Time stops.

In moments, I love you, Purely love. In a moment, When heart and skin, Touch, Time stops. Only in that space, When happiness and, Existence meet. For you, Me, Brief. Love, Only love. Excerpt from Between buildings and boutiques.

Towards the end of the hall.

My unfurl in sun, Your stem, a jagged thick thorn. Rose red, open full. Is heat this way. Along, Incandescence’s path, Chasing my bare back, and, Undressing yourself as you, Walk down the hall, catching up to me. With your front to me. Walking straight, In the wall, Down the hall, With roses leading the way, and, You, Pressing me, Into the shadow’s umbra, outlined by, Where the sun hits last in the day.

Turquoise forest.

I wait for you sunrise to sunset, thinking about you on the Gaza Strip. If you are safe, if you still feel loved, or, has that all escaped from you by now. Will you still be able to love when you come home next, when we meet next at a secluded, scheduled spot. Deep inside you are with me, in a turquoise forest we saved as a place for you to call out “mami”.

Turquoise lips.

Turquoise with lips, crash. Your touch, and the creation of you are more powerful than my life, with more force than my own. You rise, You fall, You rise, Kissing air, and, My skin. I, Worship, You. A gift from Syrian Gods, as free as Atargatis tied to the Northern Assyrian seas. A mistress I am to you. You sirening for me to bend to only you, under blue, in slow motion.

Walk with me, ma.

“Walk with me, ma,” he says. Across rusty tracks, Carrying old souls from long ago. Memories and their reflection laced with, Deepest greens. Drenched in moss, Into the darkness of forest I go. “I need you, like, rain wanted, On the haziest summer day,” He continues on. And on, “I’ll explode if, My cloud cannot hover over you.” You, Prince, Vibrant, Lush, And eyes, Kissed by water’s moody-blue amber, Skin kissed by sun.

When Tootsie walks.

When Tootsie walks, She is me, I look to see. The sway in her tail, Taking her time, Side to side. She is sweet, She es la diabla. She is without a doubt, The finest, En la ciudad. Pero, Ella es dulce como el azúcar, and, (me tienes atado a tu corazón). También, She enjoys the finest music, Fado, jazz, classical. Brunch on the mezzanine. Nothing less, Than a foam firm pad,

When you wake.

I like to watch you, my King, Sleep. It’s when my lips, upper thighs, And throat are most free. Free from your hands, Arms, And legs. Free to imagine, How I’ll be consumed by you next. Next, when you wake, With your sweeter embrace, Shaping the line that’s my side, Grasping firmly, Softly, Molding against me like clay. Your skin, sienna and copper mixed with hints of mint. Leaning back I kiss.

Where the wildflowers grow.

Where the wildflowers grow, Towards the sunlight, In fleets of vibrant colors, Encapsulated in early evening dew. Within grasp, the late afternoon, Sun dropping off, Behind trees, We walk to the farmer’s stand, Holding hands, With night starting to move. Air is heard two seconds, Before caressing our skin. Among chirping insects, Kneel to worship, The canvas of pink, Warm yellows and greens, Violets, Grouped in couples of twos. Skies and clouds peeking through,

White bark tree.

I visit our haunt, In dreams. Running through, Yellow leaves. Barely night. Holding each other, Close to one another, We move. In our solitude, A moody nocturne, In the minor key, Of whispers and talks. When noise only, Becomes so lonely, This space, A trunk’s dark lines, Branch and air, You are home. My unfurling, Against a white poplar, Feeling between, The rough and soft, Towering tall. Kissing, touching, Bare skin raw,