I am a dream entering a room Whose walls are thoughts.

I am a skein drawn taut across the face of a hollow dream.

I am a desire smoldering at the roots of your hair, the skein of your sex.

I am a light over fermenting wine Held in chalices of seasons and desires.

I am a cylinder of glass, a doorway Though which a blue light enters to illuminate,

These entwined words and worlds!

You cast a gaze, a naked hook, Around which my fish mouth flails As it interrogates the iron for clues Of a passage into you, an imperious fort.

Finding no ledge or point to jab my lips Into, to hold on when a line might have Pulled it up and over fire lined walls, It rapidly beats out so many words: These, all of which are useless.

after Pablo Neruda

At the hour of midnight your voice, reads of mists and memories and shadows. But do you know how you draw me out?

You, Red Souled Woman rythmically haul the lines out of the foam flecked sea, your voice hums to a ancient beat and my mouth gasps on your hooks.

I dig my nails into your clay, the Time wheel rotates and spins, my hands rapidly stretch, shape and undress you as my hungry mouth peels your skin.

You arose from nothingness and soon become everything, the way I smell, the way I see, even the way I die. Yet now Mist Woman you crystallize into dew and vanish.

I understood you before I even began to comprehend you, your cool eyes capture everything before I see them, Captive sunsets, blooming moon and hungry bare trees.

Your deep blue dress falls as hulls split the waves, My eyes tense in their sockets, my swords splinter like glass, you hold my hand and I step into you.

Red sea,blue wine, white shadow and vanish.