This title is from the new e-book VISIONS OF A SKYLARK DRESSED IN BLACK. To download an extended free sampler of the book please click here .

I am a sloppy lover

that much I will confess.

My kiss has swollen rivers

into torrents of night

and reduced continents
to bashful stuttering islands.

But my eagerness is sincere

and my passion never arid.

Oh behold sweet darling Earth:

the nine billion silver drops

of my fingertips

poised like a species

of liquid birds

suspended

above the hills

and mountains

and deserts

and valleys

of your lush cosmic beauty—

Waiting for you to  say “Yes,”

to say “Touch,”

to say “Come inside my love,”

to say “Annihilate,”

and “Resurrect,”

and “Where sweet love are you?”

Recall please the fury

of our innocence:

my shy gaze of melting hurricanes

dissolving

in the landslide

of your breath rushing forth like tigers,

recall, please

my fever dropping from the sky

and filling your belly

with sapphires

and rubies

and mysteries neither revealed nor forsaken.

To what did our tremblings give birth?

To oceans of green

and to air

with a knowledge of itself,

to the very lightning

that severed our coupling

with the sad roar

of its jealousy and hunger.

And what was that like

for you?

Lovely Earth of passion

            nailing Jesus to the cross of mankind’s ignorance,

Earth of nations wolfing at each others’ throats,

Earth of moonlight and crushed hearts

            and days dizzy with beauty,

what was that like for you

seeing my arms turn

suddenly to ghosts

and watching my face

float backward into

the heat’s cruel laughter?

I feared the sun

had murdered you

thus I flooded heaven

with a thousand galaxies
of unrelenting vengeance
until my tears
gathered blessings
to fall once more upon your breasts
so sweet there upon your breasts
how lovely there upon your breasts
and it has been
that way ever since:
me spiraling downward
stormy and luscious inside of you
then snatched back into sorrow
by the sun’s bitter teeth.

I am rain and thou art the element of my desires,

spread soft the holy garden,

and with this thunder soothe your weeping fire.

Aberjhani

© 2/6/2005