

The Midnight Call of Erato
I hear your call again
weaving its way
through the lonely silhouettes of night
like a shadow bringing words and song,
the winds of darkness,
a bird soaring with midnight wings.
You flutter through black forests
over moonlight rivers
beneath the twinkling stars,
sparking creativity
that cracks the hollow hours
with blazes of white lightning,
but I’m afraid you come and go
like the fleeting seasons
and now it’s silent white winter.
Persephone has retreated,
Orpheus sings his song to Hades,
and you’ve joined Eurydice in the darkness,
and I realize the hard truth:
there is no one for me but you
and you will never be mine.
The Shape of Music
Sounds fill the air
with circles of swirling sonic splendor,
spinning with barrages of notes
that send the heart into a frenzy,
numbing the mind with pleasure,
rhythm pulses passion
in squares and rectangles
of galloping thumping thuds,
parallel to the beats of the heart
sending the body into movement,
music engulfs the body
in the sideways eight of infinity,
vibrating and blanketing,
pounding and elevating
to the stars and ellipses
of orbit.
Out of Body
When you feel the music
slide into you
like a wave of warm air
on a frigid night
and your mind opens to the divine,
a splash of light and pleasure
that overwhelms you
and fills you with a blaze of energy,
when the drugs hit
and your mind leaves you alone
with waves of ecstasy
running through your numbed body
like electric fingers
caressing your back, your mind
and lighting an inner fire,
a flare of fiery life,
when the sex is amazing
with a beautiful woman
smile like a sunrise, hair like a waterfall,
ass like the sweetest candy,
and she knows all the tricks and can go all night
and you’re filled with blazing pleasure,
nuclear passion
that sends you into the stratosphere,
you leave your body
and join with the divine,
that collective pleasure,
universal light
that rains down from Heaven
in sunbeams and disco ball flashes,
sending your soul
back where it belongs.
Hidden
I can’t love.
My mind is a mess
of twisted thoughts
I’ve shaped over the years
to help me do
what I thought I was supposed to do,
to help me say
what I thought I was supposed to say.
Someone said hi,
I said hi back.
Someone said I love you,
I said I love you back
because I thought
that’s what I was supposed to do.
I always waited
for the woman to climax
because I thought that was
what I was supposed to do.
The polite thing to do.
But my heart
is this sunken hidden thing
I don’t think I have access to
underneath all these thoughts
twisted like a mess of spaghetti,
twisted by my need to fit in,
by my need to attempt
to be human.
The Birth of the Universe
In the beginning, there were two lovers
locked in eternal embrace
and they dreamed of stars and super novas
alone in the dark of space.
The male pulled away in order to see
his lover in full view,
but as he gazed upon her beauty,
the winds of darkness blew,
and death with his pure lack of mercy
struck with deadly haste,
stealing the male’s ever-living soul,
leaving his body to waste.
The universal mother,
struck with maddening grief,
gave birth to all that is
a universe beyond belief
with planets, stars, comets, suns,
expanding out away,
with gods and spirits, angels and demons,
and lords of night and day.
All the dreams she and her lover dreamed
became real and new,
as there she stayed, an unmoving center
from which everything grew,
and as the mother watched with sorrow
as her children drifted out,
always moving further from her,
closer to death and doubt,
her sadness, guilt, grief and suffering
encompassed everything
with death and darkness surrounding all
ever looming, ever waiting.