the deck of the heart
lies abandoned like
the wet mark of
a memory-wound
From the boat-house of desire
ancient eyes scan
a luminous past
Absorbed in the
memory of the beloved
face resting between palms
holding native desires
my palms become
her palms
Like shamed seasons
dreams lie in a corner
of the eye
in the sun's heat they smolder
and still life makes
new ones like
foreign friends
Alone in an alien land
memories tiptoe with temerity
darkness rains even on full-moon nights
like the intense meaning of sadness
Desires demand new leaves
so they may breathe
and new desires spring
when they set
in the mould of desire
Life comes closer to life
as held in the arms
of the paper
The pen is
eager to speak