The Wine Press

the purple-pink grape

one in a forest of such

bursting at the seams

popping under the weight

giving and releasing

an offering of fruit

in sacred sacrifice

to the inexorable force

of the heaving wood

a machine of a man,

young and ready

his first and final taste

of the fruit of the vine

yet sated with hunger

and filled with a thirst

the press is filled

once more, to the brim

fruit fresh and ripe

the machine, pressing on

crushing the virgin harvest

for that dark enjoyment

red wine, going down

into the pit, where it burns

through the walls and floor —

the acid of demons

called forth by that craving

with which he was born


Flight Of The Angel

fly, winged messenger of light

to the farthest gateway in space

there, at the center

of the most ancient galaxy,

spinning at a distance so remote

you…even you…would taste of Time

before you’d reach its borders

having taken flight from the earth

at quasi-infinite velocities


fly to that portal in the void

to that doorway in the darkness

a cyclone which spins about

inside a gulf of space and time

and there, enter into its mouth

and be swallowed up whole

into the universe next door

wholly apart from ours

and fly from there, quickly now

to the most distant wormhole

within that neighboring reality

and enter that cosmic gateway in turn

into yet another realm

a universe all its own

and continue on, proceeding thus

with each jump you make

delivering ever greater majesties

exotic glories that even you

have yet to see


and if you keep going on

far enough out on this journey

you will come to an abode

the last and final abode

out of which there is no escape

for beings made of matter

entities of the corporeal kind

and arriving, initiate your search

scanning the surface of the worlds

for she is out there, somewhere

trapped within a gilded cage

crying within the sunlit gardens

of crystal palaces glowing with the light

of twin stars shining in her sky


and when your quest is ended

deliver unto her this message:

that I will wait for her,

though she know me not,

until the end of time

until the shores of Eternity

are suddenly upon us,

when her chains, torn asunder

free her to fly up and away

upward, from realm into realm

past my own, where I weep now

into regions of supernal gravity


here is where we’ll be

finally, at the end of it all

where that divine force,

drawing in substances unseen,

presses them together, into one

into a single point, infinitesimal

making them not close, not closer

but of one composition

she and I, though one and the same,

still holding onto selfhood

a paradox, a mystery

only God may resolve


Of A Gilded Glory

is it not a fullness within

erupting with life

bursting at the seams

pressing outward in giving?


an orbed majesty

an offering displayed

for every eye to see

yet not to feel

sheets of silk to the touch

they rise, looming

like towers gilded

over a plain of bronze

­­for not even Troy

arrayed in walls of white

ramparts stacked to heights

of impenetrable stone,

even she did not own it

this measure of expression

but her own child, Helen

who is every woman

commanding the eyes of men

armies, legions who adore

worship those twin fonts

flowing springs that feed

myriads of men-to-be


by force their lips are parted

whether they be two days

or twenty years

for age matters not

as the strength of the male

reduced to naught

at the sight of her shores

and to less than nothing

in the moment of landfall

and so he, held wholly in thrall

obeys her word

whether yea or nay

if or until

and when and where

she may please


This Mystical Thronging

a world to choose from —

those who’d be the one,

lover or spouse…

only one you’ll choose

the rest you lose

clinging to the one

means running from the rest

embracing the one

means you let go of the many

and their own precious glories

a lone man, every day

he’s got the winning ticket

a single woman, each day

holds the treasure map

what’s taboo in the flesh

is allowed in the spirit

an ethereal intercourse,

some call it communion,

taking place each moment

tasted by so few…so few

a minority secret:

many a husband and wife

boyfriend, girlfriend —

they’re secret partners

soul mates locked in union

with souls unseen, unknown

in ways too deep, though

they may not want it

likely don’t know it

they play in the orgy

not bodily, forbidden

but bodiless, limitless

thus free of darkness

never undesirable

but will they accept it?

only one day they’ll know

we say “spirit”, and write it down

without really knowing what it is

it’s really just a weapon

it can do some real damage

but it can save a life

from the hell of solitude

like the loners, the rejected

not knowing how to climb out

out of that dark burning pit

having tasted little if any

of the honey of love

yes, they exist

the virgins, the lepers

pariahs of passion

walking on the path

the path of solitude

but the path of total union

is for every soul, everyone

no one is an outcast

but the outcast need it most

those cast out

from the ways of human love

but do they understand it?

do they understand this?

no, but they can turn the key

if only they’ll look

they’d find it, lying around

somewhere in their house

inside, where the doors are

where the one door is

leading to heaven

the only heaven, the real one

we’ve all read about in that book

speaking to the heart

in a thousand riddles

like cryptograms

needing to be deciphered

Crowned With Her Thorns

there is this girl

who I’ve never met

yet I know her face

read the book

of her life’s story

it tells of tears

in the forecast

falling both now

and in days to come

a little present pain

mixed with a chance

of a flash flood deluge

downpours of suffering

a disease, inherited

the kind which

the grim reaper will cure

and she hides

crying in corners

for whatever may come

and my heart is pierced

right clean through

rending even my soul

so I said to God,

“give me the thorns

that open her flesh

and make her bleed”

to bear her cross

and leave her free

from her chains

dragging those irons

across desert sands

without water to drink

where mirages of hope

tease and mock

yes I said, give me this pain

and let her be free

free to fly and smile

like even the lowest of angels

and I think it’s working

because days grow dark

people’s tongues are barbed

and forked, razor sharp

hisses, not kisses

words that slay

making night of the day

a hell of heaven on earth

and I hope I have the strength

heaven give me the strength

to carry this rood

to my resting place

if I must, I will do it

I will do it, for her

I will do it for her

until my bones are dust

in the dust of the ground

blown by the wind

on the Last Day

of this sick earth



The Apotheosis Of A Kiss

let me plant a thousand kisses

there, in your garden meadow

on the flower petal of your face

a thousand kisses of the Sun

tell me your favorite one

and I’ll clone it in my lab

reproduce it, in number

in number like the stars

stars going nova

explosions and eruptions

wavefronts of passion

you can’t escape…

just try to….but I want to…

touch you…with my thoughts

’cause the flesh is shackled

my hands are cuffed

my lips are sealed

my tongue is tied

not my body, but what moves it

only that is free

free to give infinity

to reproduce heaven

omnipotent lover, making

anything and everything

God’s lips here on earth



Starlight Odyssey

I was standing at the edge

on the bow of the ship

looking out into the nothing

into the darkness below

bottomless liquid expanse

mirrored by the starry sky

the stars above like candles

their lights like embers

dying lights in the night

and I was casting about

seeking and searching

for the perfect star

my guiding light

nowhere to be found

nowhere in sight

a star to be mine

mine and mine alone

to take me home

home, where I’d never been

a place I longed to know

and looking up that night

on a sudden I saw you

your luminous face

after forty years at sea

I found you, perfect star

Star of the North

sweet Polaris

the light to guide me home

to take me home

to that distant place

one I finally know

and tacking into the wind

the whitecaps breaking like iron

against this wooden vessel

I set out, your silver glow

pointing the way forward

and I saw those shores there

the white sands, bluest waves

winds that swept me away

swept me off my feet

and marooned my heart

having landed, with you

alone with you

all alone with you now, forever

ever to be with you

my perfect star


Tears Of The Untouched

this is my world,

where to chase after love

is like a walk to the moon

a lifetime of baby steps

yet not an inch closer

to taking in my hands

my heart’s desire

footfalls to nowhere

trying to get close to someone

to drink just one drop

in a sea of love interests

but the waters spat me out

every time, like clockwork

and I was thrown back ashore

beached on this island

the only island

I’ve ever known

I’ve become the island

uncharted on any map

am I still human

or a rat on the wheel

making circles, running

out of breath and time

its strength almost spent

but you know what?

they do ask me sometimes,

a consolation prize:

why aren’t you married yet?

they embrace the question,

but would flee from the answer

from any advance from me

running for their lives

to save their skin

because it’s okay,

as they say,

because you deserve love…

just not from me

you know I have this dream

that love will come to me

having shed the skin

of my physical reality

but what can I hope for

and what is allowed?

what and where is love?

it’s a hideous thing

my image in the mirror

there’s nothing wrong with you

only they all stay away

the length of a ten-foot pole

but again, there’s nothing wrong

nothing wrong with me

because it’s all in my head

this constructed world of gloom

where storm clouds form in my eyes

raindrops pouring down

onto the blackened street below

down which I lurch and wail

and gorge and drink —

draining the bottle dry —

all alone in the shadows


The Lovemaking

on a California King

waterbed kissed by the sun

through the skylight above

rose petals strewn

on that sun-dappled garden

french doors open to the sea

the walls of white

and airs of lavender

the candles almost spent

through the doors

her cries take wing

flying out over the dunes

and beyond the waves

into the infinite blue

her tears welling up

there in her eyes

as he holds her from behind

his four-fold embrace

tentacles wrapping around

two above, two below

throbbing with love

an adoration of her form

upon the altar of her skin

plunging clean through

deeper and deeper he goes

exploring the depths

blind, but feeling

through the narrow way

a contracting tunnel

his life he wholly funnels

into her own

as her head falls back

crashing with the waves

onto his chest, her hair

of golden silk

those streams of pure honey

gliding over his skin

and then the moment comes

their bodies dissolve

and their energies fuse

as waterfalls of feeling

come crashing down

the two breaths merged

into one exhalation

spiraling upward to heaven

and met with throngs of joy

as personhood is drowned

taking one form alone

a single life force

pounding with pain

glorious pain, and sugared

more than honey

the honey of her hair

and there, in the stillness

nothing moves or speaks

just the sea breezes, wafting

a silence held in thrall

a day, utterly spent

yet pulsing with power

bottomless, borderless,


and perfectly eternal