Snowflakes roll calmly over the edge

of your amusement, drift down like shredded sky.

They are temporary and not serious,

placing their entire bodies upon the mouths

of the chrysanthemums and violets that fill

this field.  I am a blackness, and a melody,

and a serving of the universe’s curiosity

about  itself, watching the snow fall

and melt upon the tongue of my bare chest,

or fly into the curly black rhapsody

of cosmic forest lush beneath my naval,

leaving diamonds and blue to kindle my riddle.

My knees are at home resting on the earth’s shoulder

even as my spirit has been at home expanding

and exploring the energy and pulse of Sirius.

And a sunflower as tall as I wraps its leaves

around my waist as if it were all compassion

and nothing else.  We feed each other our personal

mythologies, weeping about the power of  shadows

and light over our past.  A seductive aroma

strokes the melanin inside my skin and we shudder

prophecies from one moon to the next.

The soft gray hair of dusk spreads outward,

joins with the  whirling dervish snow

to choreograph a jazz ballet of magnetic bliss.

There is an oak tree fond of telling the tale

of my origins and possible destinies.

There is a river singing ballads of miracles

I have yet to achieve.  This lion standing in

majestic silence is an undiluted sexuality

rooted in the gardens of infinity.

Looking up from the lush tapestry of this

nightfallen moment, every third star is a lover

with whom I have found neverending

enigma and uncontainable sweetness.  This snow

falling upon this hill melts down my spine as if I am

made of history and it is nothing less than revelation.

We absorb just enough of each other to discover

a thousand new ways to love and be loved.

My arms are the mountains that hold time in its place.

My tears are the atoms that give substance to space.

My blackness is the music eternity makes when singing itself as me.

Aberjhani

(© from I MADE MY BOY OUT OF POETRY)