Tag Archives: requieted

Essence of You

My requirements on a rider
Are not very complex
A molasses shisha
Mint tea and a meditation carpet
And three sachets
Holding the very essence of you

Close to Me

Come be close to me
Others will glance
Envy their vice
They know im entranced
Sit next to me and see
All eyes upon us
Wondering how we are famous
Somewhere else
“Such beauty” they’ll say under their breath
Your bare shoulders
Ciao bella, que bonita
Graceful, uncommon
And precisely as expected
As i braid your hair sitting behind
In a clawfoot cast iron bath
Porcelain as white as your feet
Perched at the end
Languid arms, pouty red lips
We are dancers, visions, lovers
Its so obvious, even the Italians agree
Whisper in your ear
As you lean in towards
My mouth, my dear
I kiss your arching neck
Write sonnets for you
Discover constellations
To name for you
Craft a jazz ballad
A wine well-vinted
A Pinot Noir as we are lovers
At night
And in the light
But in the dark stateroom
Ship swaying
An illegal candle bright
Reflects your eyes
So deep, so blue
Translucent as you show entire soul
Except for the secrets you hide
I’ll discover in time
Whenever you are ready
Decadence well-requited
Candle behind the wine glass
Exotic bottles behind the sad barman
He wants to trade lives with
The singer from Napoli
He’s a cliche but brings
Down the house
Kissing hands of ladies
Long since affectioned
A ruse indeed to garner
Fast-tracked seduction from
The supple and impressionable
Who seek swarthy despite the height
We’re a black and white movie
You in pearls
Me in a grey plaid suit


Sequester me in constraints
The bounds broken, hang loose
Rules abused quickly
Comfort provided freely

Don’t trip over the rails
Be swallowed by the waves
Salty so close below
Yet offer scant respite

Rather curl and be close
Abandoned to all – without restraint
Held softly, still, firmly, longingly
This moment is yours to forget
As you drift from moment to instant

Leave past to aft
And future to stern
Relativity suggests
Your manifests are in order
And audited by officers
Executed by earnest, far below
By helmsmen safely submerged

I remain with you
Contained yet twisting
Almost unsafe, at least unwise
Holy in our downdrift
Content to be alone
No evidence of any dalliance
No windows to distract
The potential pirates of Aden
Putting we to rest

I remain with you
Holy in our downdraft
Content to be alone
No evidence of dalliance
No photographs on a grand foyer staircase
No windows to distract
Just the sway of waves
Putting we to rest

Nowhere to Call

Where am i supposed to find you?
have we waited past our penance?
satisfied society’s requirements of transitions
to avoid hushed voices?

I’ve no more canals to transit –
seas of each colour crossed
20 words in 30 languages
origami wallet with flotsam of currencies
bordering between souvenir and re-entry ease

Dusty rucksack with light wool suit, Arab robe, sleeping costume, swim pants
and another notebook…
full with soliloquies about you
and questions, for you

The ship to shore radio
but i’ve nowhere to call
rather, no one to call

Only wonder
“How will you find me here?”
as my location is unknown
though charted, i assume

How Shall We Fill This Vessel?

At Last!
The briny
(yet oddly palatable in its own way)
Tension of distance and absence
Of magnetic melancholy
Has remanded to a forgotten horizon
Now an archived newly ancient memory

Now, all is deliciously possible
A present to savor
A history to grow
A future to whittle
To any possible shape

How shall we fill this vessel?

Devoid of cynicism
And unnecessary ego
Jealousy or restraint
With rambunctious affection
In all possible forms
To manifest and articulate
Unabashed tactile Love?

Shall we fill with endless notes
Of spontaneous jazz and
DIstant gazes from close range?
Slow dances to quick songs
Languid mornings following
Smoldering nights?
Celebration of the commonplace
Anticipation of usual happenstance?
Easy banter about nuanced topics
On jungle verandahs and beachside gazebos
Replete with warm drinks
And cool touch?

With fond hellos and
Infrequent goodbyes
As I seek nowhere to go
Desire no escape
In darkness and rain
All my yearning were sent away

My marrow and soul
Now have a purpose, a place
A place to dwell
With you, always
As together we fill
This vessel


Perched on your purple velvet chair
I come as your supplicant
Not in meekness
But to negotiate for what I want

Simply put my terms are me
With you, in all your forms
On every day
From kingdom mountain tops
Deep down to sinking island

I’ll kiss your ring to begin with
Then work towards a thorough investigation
Till I find your beauty
Your beating heart deep within

Reaching ocean swells
Breaching established protocols
I’ll request permission to untangle your paradoxes
Paint portraits of we together
To adorn your secret chamber walls

My only condition is your honesty
If you choose another
Not ready to surrender to an affection we both understand
You will explain by courier
With your optional sympathy

Feigned or real
You may skip the courtly rhetoric
No matter your vaunted statue
You remain a woman
Of flesh and passion
With only a single life allowed

Ready at Last

I am ready at last for the unrelenting savagery or call to your actions, seductions, or even rampant affection, genuine for the time at present.

I require not a guarantee, only unequivocal intensity by and for soft strong fingers and supple form

Slay me, command me, instruct me, mark me as yours when your commands drift to my ears, will pretend i allow you to dominate me but in reality, i possess no choice.

I am supple in flesh and mind – long surrendered to your charms.

Your letters sent in secret, your annotations, my replies, bundled in brown manila, i assume secreted to a trusted friend in a Balkan enclave with suspect postal service.

The cancellations – round and particular, glue melts to tempt prying eyes. I do not mind if someone knows our deepest fondest codes. While they can set the letters to words to prose, they cannot comprehend the sweet honey you mix with Turkish coffee cooled only by the same ice cube i run along your sustaining bosom, – providing a life i could never know before.

Night Lake Diving, 2004 (typed)

Night Lake Diving, 2004
Night Lake Diving, 2004, typed 2017

The original poem was written in 2004… I was in my last program for my long-fought bachelors degree attending Evergreen State College out of Olympia Washington (keep in mind, it took 17 years and four or five colleges)… my final course was a multi-day retreat called “poets and philosophers discuss love and war“ held at Lake Crescent on the Olympic Peninsula. Sounds idyllic, and for the most part it was… Was a group of mostly diligent students but a few goofballs as well including a fella who brought his speed boat, and several firearms to the workshop, inexplicably. Turns out this was the third time he’s taking this program, Sort of like the Matthew McConaughey character in Dazed and Confused I suppose.

Anyway, one night i boarded his boat with a few other drunken carousers, and in the middle of the glacier lake, stripped down and dove into the cool water, over and over again. I suppose while I was pleased to be graduating, I also realized it didn’t really mean *anything*, just that I had to do something else now. So, I tried to shake the blues by diving as deep into the endless lake as I could.

Back on the boat, the little gang headed for the far rocky shore, cold from the lake water in a bout of stupidity, decided to try to light a fire with some assembled sticks of driftwood. Alas, without proper technique/supplies, this is nigh impossible so the chief knucklehead was determined to take apart a bullet to remove the gunpowder to act as “tinder“ to start the fire. I realized this was a ridiculous proposition but it’s hard to work forward momentum of fools.

I did my best to explain this while I was shivering and my mind was elsewhere, but I realized it was a useless task.

They eventually realized this as well avoiding potential calamity. So piled back on the boat, back to “camp“ with significant reprimand the next day from the operators of the usually quiet and serene retreat.

As an aside, during this program, I wrote a work of epistolary literature called “Letters from Russia“… Each “letter“ was written by hand, most accompanied by some sort of sketch or drawing, all in the character of a cobbler with Napoleon’s army on the ill-fated march into Russia and 1812. (I’ll share this work with you forthwith to assuage your possible curiosity).

As it goes, this original poem “fermented” in a notebook until around 2008 but it was quickly transcribed and stuck up on a blog, which was eventually migrated to a new fancier blog, and then typed out in Sri Lanka last year (2017) on a battered machine picked up and abandoned.


Solarium inducing
Rest without remorse

Do I change when the moon comes?


Sapphire Beside Me

Sapphire beside me
Horizon flat ahead
Punctually delayed
Allowing movements
And moments in time to gaze

The fulcrum point
between existence and mysterious
Too foggy for memory

We can reframe an unfilling past
To charge a refreshing future
Devoid of expectations or itineraries

These hours are only for us
Curled between Egyptian cotton
Woven in Sudan
Purchased at an Muscat souk

These hours are only for us
To stimulate senses
Of tactility and grace