Masquerade, Optimism No Comments

I shall give myself a pat
on the shoulder (after the wells cleared up
for unearthing in me some nobility—
that little pure droplet, like a dew, a baby spring.

Run then, to where you think you can find
your oasis;
fuss I shan’t.
A floating leaf instead I shall be,
while remembering the ripples
begun one drizzly August night—
the very same things which now tell me
how close I came to danger.

But I choose not venom, instead
with bowl-shaped hands scoop
from the freshest fountains I can find:
for you to quench your mortal thirst
and for me, to understand you and
cleanse myself.

That I did not know
it is something I possess brings
a smile: yet it is there,
flowing freely,
in some of the deepest sepulchers
of my heart.

25 February 2010, 3.17pm

skin swirlings

Masquerade, Windchimes No Comments

I was settled and then you come centripetal centrifugal you are delicious but our friction must just stop.

then1:25 am, 17 June 2009


Masquerade, Windchimes No Comments
ripples and waves come from that
—yet from there springs everything.


Masquerade No Comments


in me rest riches beyond compare; treasures that delight, or destroy. but you, only you, moon, make me radiate with such splendor, your beams revealing secrets of my skin.


i hold secrets, and intensify powers. i strengthen, and weaken. adored, praised, hated, despised i am, but by your grace, serene sea, i glance at my face on your glistening skin. and as i look, tears run down my cheeks as your waves, though in vain, desperately wipe them away.

(8 April 2009)

pic from

indecision’s decision

Masquerade 1 Comment

aside from loose rhymes

crawling naughtily on the

skin like kisses that never


everything else is, by now,

blown away by the wind.

so fear not the throbbings

of some other ends (if there

still are)—but of songs


we are, must be, our

own listening ear.

(8 March 2009)

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