AMATORY QUARTET (from Twilight of the Fog, Book I ).



Love holds me captive again

And I tremble with bittersweet longing



The love that knots us hurts us…

-Pablo Neruda








One burnt star is enough for a child

What blood can hold all the dead stars?


He searched through the morning haze

The stout rocks breathe fear

He anointed his eyes in the sun

In shroud pictures of rain


That brood like a smile paralyzed.

What shall I sing you secret maiden

When you call flowering in a dream’s



Across the stream we are only two:

I will write my flesh on your bare body

That sinks the debris in the dumb-cry of flowers

In a dawn full of outcast grass…




July Rain


A raindrop leaps on my tongue,

Bursts and swims between my lips

With  soothing taste of 1st July.


Thirsts swell out of this tiny water

Thirsts roar in rushes of wraths…


Ah! my tongue, trough of toppled waters

Ah! My heart, imbibe and  hoard

This noon’s liquid crossings

In lyric’s intercourse with intercourses-


Treeing in my tongue like a green river.

Let this green hour feed the air

With poetry that returns

Rains to the pregnant flower

Song  to the inhuman hour.


<<Previous Page    Next Page>>

SENTINEL POETRY #29, Online Magazine Monthly,  April 2005, ISSN 1479-425X