Dirty Little Secrets

a fool tries to hide
in mist and clouds
new clothes, new name
face wide with a grin
thinking oneself hidden
from adepts and immortals

a fool has no honor
thinking oneself clever
one enters the sea
to count sand grains in vain
yet shallow waters are noisy
stupid ones, childish ones

a fool makes mistakes
stubbornly ignorant
not seeing the secret
that all Danaans know
and even Portugal
has it’s share of fools

secret tears, seeds of grief,
silent and starving,
or of love,
like rain,

to live or not live,
to be just one more stone,
or to be watered,
drop by drop,

tangled black roots,
wounds that mark you,
open your clenched soul
to the waters,

a sliver of sun,
the taste of fire,
a distant star sings to you
its ardent song,

a hushed sound,
the heart listens,
roots extend outward,
seeking nourishment.

the moon alone
extends herself beyond the breakers,
her breasts, delicately curved,
like spiral shells of equal fullness.
her white mantle, caressing,
enveloping my mortal form,
like a pair of wings after flight.
in the night i dance on the shore,
loving as hidden things are loved,
between self and silence.
and i, made drunk by the void,
earth’s fragrance, sea’s music,
turn circles in the sand.
my unseeing eyes,
the color of lost love,
fill with the moon’s light,
my solitude rolls out with the waves,
like a cobalt flower opening,
as i journey through waters and stars,
just to Love,
just to Be… loved.

in your presence,
in your absence,
something of you remains,
where i meet myself :
the color of distant love,
the lost domains
of a wandering fragrance,

and i, the smallest thing,
wait for my time
beyond men…
and you bed yourself,
suffocating,
to seal the silence
of my absence,

the night wind sings
under the infinite sky,
we, from that time,
bound each to the other,
kiss by kiss,
as true and as distant,
as the star-like silence.

i learned of love
in a single kiss
but i could teach no one
such tenderness
the silence of sand
that lifts the spray
a salty kiss that takes
my breathe away
and i will follow
the waters through time
and the winds shall weave
your fate with mine
to return to being
what I have not been
again and again
and again and again

when we were speaking,
i liked how your words
filled my head,
like that of a bottle of intelligent wine,
each drop sparkling,
like topaz or amber,
the warmth of fire,
illuminating my senses
from the abyss
of mourning,
where i was in eternal thirst
for life
and the infinite ache,
of speechlessness,

the light of your words then,
caressed me with flames,
filled my heart with fire,
my painful voice
became stained with the love of you,
i wanted you to hear me,
how i longed to fill you,
but my words, were like smoke,
drifting beyond the twilight,
carried away by winds,
underlined by solitude,

i awoke suddenly, and realized,
you had gone
before i ever spoke
the first word,
before my words ever touched
your soul,
having written thirty-nine poems now,
i see myself forgotten,
yet remembered,
i love what you do not have,
what you left behind,
this is the fire
that will never warm you.