Even the roots of the maple red
sing all your edges into apple.

Your laugh is dragons’ thread
aware of yielding.

We are a double tail
with our delirium of fire.

You exhale, sprung through starlit glass,
thirsting to open my wing—

unhoused afterwards—
then you pause patiently spinning,

as the white crease unfolds among the curve
and breath makes its amethyst

on your side, warm as our droplet
erasing tension end to end;

at the pore, where the barb tangles its holster,
you are the color of ravishment

meant to lift me out of this
damp blade in the cooling hymnology;

you repeat yourself growing blue
preparatives of fate,

while over us the swallows skim
and all is hushed in pink—

Rise then out of love into love
love’s as the love is; love rearms and prepares to love;

the love of lovers returns.
With you, it obliterates all consideration.

It cannot be matured by law and precept,
but by sensation & watchfulness in itself.

As usual, I have been occupied with nothing but you….
Love is a crystal conscience—

I wish I was either in your arms
full of faith or that a thunderbolt

would strike me.
New-faceted hands meridian with blue…

the world is reduced into a meadow
for our four eyes’ astonishment.

I shall find you.
Your hair smells like marble noon & laurel dome.

Your eyes are the olive hornets surrounding
the explosion of water-rose—

to glance unhitching a spot of breath
beneath the burnt ruby of your memory

is the broiling naked script of your light
around us we open the pearl of sweat

weaving its lingering threshold  
walking down, I found you around me

phosphorescent like a presence,
among the trees.