Reverent hesitating gestures

Reverent hesitating gestures
of delicate fragility play on our mutual fingertips.
Reciprocal gravity drives unending inward spiral
Into unlikely intersection of whole persons.

Attrition is the time and place of our union,
The present instance of our love.
Touching is symmetrical, shared
A single act of touching – two in one touch.

Looking in each other’s eyes
                                       Is touching
As the surface of your thought becomes
The surface of my thought

Kissing is a special form of touching
Where we renounce speaking –
Bodies become Words
And speak themselves

As the surface of your silence becomes
The surface of my silence

---

Untouching is done carefully,
With solemn pause.

we incorrectly feel small and     lost

The bustle in a house

(by Emily Dickinson)

The bustle in a house
The morning after death
Is solemnest of industries
Enacted upon earth, –

The sweeping up the heart,
And putting love away
We shall not want to use again
Until eternity.

Today your body sparkles

Today your body sparkles
With a thousand languages
Some archaic and mysterious
Some disturbing and new

Here your body irradiates
With a thousand atoms
All pregnant with bearing
The wholeness of you

Always your body listens
With a thousand gestures
Some giving, some taking
Bonding in two

Together your body blossoms
With a thousand gifts
And an ocean of glory
Seems to shine through

Prima Nocte

I discover senses can be just as inebriating
when they come alive
As when they close down.

How can you be so full of meaning while asleep?
How can I have such a strong conscience of you
when you have none of me?

I discover your nights are so beautiful.
How many nights you must have spent like this,
beautifully, unwatched.

How well you fit inside yourself just now,
While I am overwhelmed by the responsibility
Of tending the full weight of ‘us’ for the moment.

But let me just wait for your next
delayed, shallow, beautiful breath.
Syncopated, innocent, all-filling absence.

Patient synonym of life.

(   delicate balance of promise fulfilled

And from now on perpetually in-the-making

‘I’ll love you forever’, I lied

‘I’ll love you forever’, I lied,
(unintentionally of course)
‘You are my everything’, I lied again,
but it was true at the moment,
‘I love you too’, you lied back,
and damn it if I didn’t believe you,
‘We’ll never be apart’, we lied,
and today is never,
‘This is the best day of my life’, I lied,
in fact it was just the day we lied together.

somewhere i have never travelled

(by e. e. cummings)

somewhere i have never travelled, gladly beyond
any experience,your eyes have their silence:
in your most frail gesture are things which enclose me,
or which i cannot touch because they are too near

your slightest look will easily unclose me
though i have closed myself as fingers,
you open always petal by petal myself as Spring opens
(touching skilfully,mysteriously)her first rose

or if your wish be to close me, i and
my life will shut very beautifully ,suddenly,
as when the heart of this flower imagines
the snow carefully everywhere descending;
nothing which we are to perceive in this world equals
the power of your intense fragility:whose texture
compels me with the color of its countries,
rendering death and forever with each breathing

(i do not know what it is about you that closes
and opens;only something in me understands
the voice of your eyes is deeper than all roses)
nobody,not even the rain,has such small hands

It is as silly as love

It is as silly as love
that I should be hurt
by seeing a picture of you but
with your back turned

as if

Fatal as time love
will not stay the same
and many times a love-that-has-grown
will appear diminished;

as if

as gentle as that breeze
I’d swear there’s a window-open-somewhere -
pregnant like a hope delayed
the answer is held until I ask fewer questions -

if I turned around now I think
I would be surprised not to see the past.

I never knew space could hurt

I never knew space could hurt
until I found even touching
there was too much distance from me to you-

And time walks across my heart,
coming and going with that
precise patience it keeps all for itself-

Under the naïf look of a smile
Love-Gently-Bleeds
from the wounds of this soul pierced by your otherness-

To dissolve in living red the mere
pleasing of the senses
that ever-urgently warned me of your beauty
(which they never knew)

and drench away in thick flowing substance
that simple wishing you well
which safely keeps you for contemplation

Love bleeds from pains easily forgotten
as I give myself to you

There goes another piece of me but

There goes another piece of me but
go merrily, piece, you were spent

on love

so I guess it’s ok as long as - well
ok, go on,

take some more

I sing the abyss in my soul

I sing the abyss in my soul
and chant the depth of the division
and the black hole that sucks being
this darkness, nonsense, coldness, nothing

Firmly set in the heart of me.

I kiss the unreachable hollow
and gaze the obscurity of sin
Then return to me from far away
and bravely open wide the void that is

The space for the redemption of me.

A painting of a blind man

A painting of a blind man looks at the numb art-lover
who faithfully hesitates to speak of that silence
that lies about belief

and hopeful of yesterday he works out the laziness
that moves him to stillness doubts truth
and boldly fears love

gathering his dispersion he embodies a thought of
smiling his pain inhabiting his wandering
Then blesses the denial of soul

never now says the blind man

No tengo nada contra ti Mujer

(by José Miguel Ibañez Langlois)

No tengo nada contra ti Mujer
Me pareces sagrada y misteriosa
Y más próxima al Cielo que a la Tierra
No tengo nada contra ti...
Si no es...
Que un dia te caerán los dientes
Que no eres Dios
Que engordas
Que te mueres

You know you’re destined to make love with death, So

You know you’re destined to make love with death, So

will you be raped by a violent stranger
a camouflaged hunter of implacable cunning
an eye-averting soul-stealing chaser?

or will you choose the tender mutual all-giving
of that ever-promised, ever-faithful
veil-faced truly virginal bride?

(so may pains in the heart

(so may pains in the heart
never made it stop until now)
as life rudely flees from me
as my legs give way
to the abrupt weight of the body
which starts to fall helplessly
impolitely with noise to the ground
(and in a few days it will break through
the ground, silently, politely)

and my falling brain spins slightly
on top of a carelessly relaxed neck
(in a few days resolutely stiff,
and then disintegrated)
and my eyes roll up to show me
that shelf I must fix some day
(but there’s so much on my mind,
and so little time)

as my knees hit the floor
sideways, painlessly,
(there is only one pain now,
only one problem)
I realise there will be no return
from this inopportune descent
(I had never noticed it,
but my life is complete)

a moment inside stops the hasty day

a moment inside stops the hasty day
eyes closed look around to find
everyday companions and common occupations;
in quick succession come recollection, regret, resolution
as heart rises and grows
and sucks a tremendous amount of life into this tiny moment,
(apparently nothing happened,
proving that appearances can often fool you)

To make the universe come true

To make the universe come true
With commitment strong as creation

To make the world boil from its bowels
With passion strong as redemption

(oh I truly believe so much happens in people’s minds)

Soft but devastating blows

Soft but devastating blows
on my lack of generosity
struck constantly with precision
from the stubborn excess of your love,
the inclement unsatisfaction of your giving,
the ever-expanding tightness of your embrace;

And though from one so delicate,
so pure in the ways of the heart,
I would expect some more polite
and respecting loving,
you teach me this new form of jealousy
rendered unselfish by mere conviction,

and with the calculated determination
of a noble breaking of a rule,
you pay me the highest compliment
of proving my love incomplete,
my response stammered, my declaration timid,
my giving-more a simple prelude of a new request.

Again

Again
Beauty will set before me for
contemplation
every small, futile, fugitive
spark and reflection of itself;

Repeatedly
after every fly has buzzed around my heart
and caught my attention and was waved away
without conviction,
(leaving a pain only just felt)

Stubbornly
as a pretendent Beauty will have me choose her
from all those sparks and
above every sleepish humming;
(shaping my heart to her image)

In passive astonishment I contemplate

In passive astonishment I contemplate
some part of you that lies in the past
like a strange colour seen once and never again;

And every once in a while it will seem to show,
but only to find the present you so overwhelming,
so totally absorbed my mind in your life;

From a glimpse of truth I set myself to
not mind this forced giving away of your past
which unmistakably states you are alive in me.

“Coming!” I would have said promptly,

“Coming!” I would have said
promptly, had I not
been called so long ago, years away in a precise day

Had I not
wandered off or
rather strayed without leaving the house;

Many times, many times or
rather
once I denied.

But always
years ahead and every day
with smiles from blows and thanks for tears:
I have with stable voice
and clear pronouncing lips
in simple words of unknown strength

“Yes!” I said promptly
ever asserting more than I gathered was being asked –

“Let it be” I said and
it was not my voice.

Which of us two?

(by Peter Viereck)

when both are strong with tenderness, too wild
with oneness to be severance-reconciled;
when even the touch of fingertips can shock
both to such seesaw mutuality
of hot-pressed opposites as smelts a tree
tighter to its dryad than to its own tight bark;
when neither jokes or mopes or hates alone
or wakes untangled from the other; when
more-warm-than-soul, more-deep-than-flesh are one
in marriage of very skeleton:
when, then, soil peels mere flesh off half this love
and locks it from the unstripped half above,
who’s ever sure which side of soil he’s on?
have I lain seconds here, or years like this?
I’m sure of nothing else but loneliness
and darkness, here’s such black as stuffs a tomb,
or merely midnight in an unshared room.
holding my breath for fear my breath is gone,
unmoving and afraid to try to move,
knowing only you have somehow left my side,

I lie here, wondering, which of us has died.

I leaned forward to kiss your lips

I leaned forward to kiss your lips,
but you surprisingly hastened to kiss mine
and as we both stood staring seriously
into each others eyes

I considered that gesture as a challenge;
You always loved me like that:
never allowing me to question your love,
always waiting on my move
only to move before me

"I could love you even more", I thought
(and I had no idea what you were thinking)

Strange when I complete

Strange when I complete
pledge forever entrust
myself totally placing
me, my life and body and
wholly on your hands and seal it with a kiss

The surprise that you
will take me bit by bit
yesterday and now and now you
will ask me again, confirm my love
and every once in a while not be there to be kissed)

Without ever denying my pledge or
dropping me from your hand you will
see to it that every other is displayed to me and within reach

: you will lovingly ask bits of love from me
today and now and now

the most important things in life happen inside parenthesis

the most important things in life happen inside parenthesis
for life is immensely cool and coolness demands discretion
in the way it calls attention

and parenthesis are so beautifully read out in a suspended
tone of voice that indicates the main idea will continue
right after the interlude

(the left parenthesis opens a whole new field of thought
and expression and softly unbinds itself from what comes
before and is therefore free

the right parenthesis pronounces the end of that most
important bit which said it all yet ended and had a conclusion
and is rich with accomplishment)

a declaration of love in parenthesis is no display of timidity
because words are not the essence of love so love boldly
(and put words in parenthesis)

Hugging lovers struggle in vain

Hugging lovers struggle in vain to occupy the same space –
kiss in a failed attempt to speak each other as a word –
Unsuccessfully strive to stop time by filling each other’s present –
Eyes shut in an effort to renounce the world for each other –

Only apparently on the verge of becoming the other
Inspired by love to explore the limits of personhood
To risk that mysterious affair of shattering them
And live in that impossible point of self-denial
Where no one is safe, nor confident, nor comfortable
- just immensely peaceful, just immense,
just finally eternal, eternal at last,

- And thus the universe shivers truly, unnoticeably
When two come boldly forth and boldly experiment
That utter-proximity-of-persons
Which makes them so small and lost and strangely free and

whispered slow exclamations

whispered slow exclamations in the dullest tone expressing
absolute confidence in the exclaimed content to live beyond
mere conventions of speech

paused phrases pronounced slowly as to not disturb the truths
they contain which are incompatible with pronunciation
due to the irreverent softness of words

strong definitive ideas stated humbly in the face of disbelief
to glorify positive powerful realities which would live on
even if no one listened

thoughts uttered with feigned detachment restrain
once more that unmanageable desire that somehow
you would just listen)

All things are one-piece puzzles

All things are one-piece puzzles, and love matters)
All people are sincere mysteries) and truth prompts
All words are pregnant with multiple meanings, and good muses)

Assembly: units of beautiful crystallize
soft elements of revelation into reverent
apprehension of presence of spirit

From somewhere between the will and the heart

From somewhere between the will and the heart
comes softly and with majesty the precise determination
to love you today with the faithfulness of one
who has been for fifty years faithful;
(though the years haven’t been half as many)

And halfway into not thinking I will find
the rush to gather all the love of a lifetime
and press it together into these times we have shared
until the future seems unnecessary;
(though tenderly expected like a gift)

But from which patience gladly forgotten
will I nourish the strength to once again
spread the love in me over the years
and give up the urge of stealing it all into this instant?
(for only tomorrow will I be able to give you my tomorrow)

it may not always be so; and i say

(by e.e.cummings)

it may not always be so; and i say
that if your lips, which i have loved, should touch
another's, and your dear strong fingers clutch
his heart, as mine in time not far away;
if on another's face your sweet hair lay
in such silence as i know, or such
great writhing words as, uttering overmuch,
stand helplessly before the spirit at bay;

if this should be, i say if this should be—
you of my heart, send me a little word;
that i may go unto him, and take his hands,
saying, Accept all happiness from me.
Then shall i turn my face and hear one bird
sing terribly afar in the lost lands

stamp your feet on the way

stamp your feet on the way
but gather all your debt today
then

kiss with lips of sin
- fear not: for many kisses will
wipe


the sin from the lips tears
wash

the feet of the way.

When I speak to you

(by Fernando Pessoa)

When I speak to you, it hurts you should reply
to what I say, not to my love.

Casually checking his hair

Did you ever wonder what’s inside that keeps us together?
Did you ever want to take a knife and discover?
(Tindersticks)

Casually checking his hair
on the elevator mirror
the bearer of the deep secret of his me
presses the correct button without even looking
and
starts to
      desc-
end.

Then looks bravely into his soul
While nailing some        leftover        from between his teeth
Totally failing the grasp the deep truth of his me
And, mildly astonished by this fact,(probably the mirror
wasn’t working properly

with painfully open eyes the poet

with painfully open eyes the poet
listens for that delicate but colossal sound
rising to become eloquent as silence;

with an uncomfortable still alertness
watches out for an image as revealing
as that darkness which ends distractions

and gathers his courage to step naked
into the mysteries of things only worth
his voice for their impossible pronunciation

for knowing poems may speak of arriving,
all poems are merely on their way;
and the poet stretches to cover the distance.

Vertigo of Now

This is not really a blog; it's simply a collection of poems.

As the header description says, some almost-poetry that's been in my drawer for too long. I don't hold it in any sort of high regard... I'll just admit I kind of like small bits of some of my poems, even though there are many obvious flaws to them.

Feel free to comment if there's anything you find interesting.

I also plan to include some poetry written by other people, i.e., some of the poems that inspire me and, well, humiliate me by their perfection and their supernatural qualities...

I called it Vertigo of Now because 'Now' is the moment where our life kisses reality - sometimes thrillingly, sometimes solemnly,... it is the only moment for freedom and therefore the only moment for love. I like poems that are a sort of photography of the soul: they capture one instant for contemplation. And the contemplation of souls inspires awe.