Her Fruits of Majesty

Your songs are like  An angel's harp  One thousand horns  Blown by Israfel Your dance is like  A water drop  Naiads on water lilies Exalted by the daffodilies Your bust be like  Two moons  Cosmic sculptors Chiseled thee And your eyes  Shine divine  Minerva's light  With Athena's likeness Casting shadows on your lips  Which hold... Continue Reading →

The Way

The language of the benevolent  And the movement of the merciful Laws of Motion  Producing poetry  Raining down from  Forms so heavenly And the rain can Erode anything  Making streams  And rivers out of  States and cities  Yes, the rain  Can erode anything  What fish can  Swim against  The stream? What wave  Disobey the tide?... Continue Reading →

Her Night of Majesty

Beneath the veil of Kiara  Lie one thousand mysteries  The wonders of the earth  And those sagely epiphanies And her eyes are a miracle: Virgins giving birth  Psalms becoming lyrical Does she hide beneath her veil The Night of Majesty? More holy than one thousand months  A pair of crescent moons In shape of rosy... Continue Reading →

Heart of The Goddess

In your psyche More wisdom be Then the bust Of Pallas In your soul More honesty Than the prophets,  In their Ivory Palace And your heart, The beauty that it holds The realm in which It reside Be that cherub’s smile In paradise It’s rhythm,  The ode to joy That ushered in The universe That... Continue Reading →

Beauty’s Kiss

To get at The beautiful To grasp it As it slips Through your hands Like a fine sand The further You pursue The further She will run And so beauty Be like a woman? Forever the opposite Of what she appears? Her meaning, In contrary  To what she says? And is beauty, truth? Then is... Continue Reading →

Body of The Goddess

I worship you Every bone  Every tendon  And joint  That grounds Your structure  And your  Heavenly form  That floats above  The curve of Your bosom  Is the  Progenitor  Of my existence  My fountain in  A desert land  Your hair is  Like a fine stroke  Of calligraphy  Flowing and black  And most of all  Beautiful  Like... Continue Reading →

Pavane pour Emile

What is art? An artist who does not wrestle with this question has yet to be born as an artist, and one who has stopped, has died. A ceaseless search for the truth. Each poem a reflection, each painting a mirror, all held up to man, so that he might see his own face. Tonight,... Continue Reading →

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