Seven poems by the Texas-based poet, who has has published several poetry collections, including Salt and Sorrow, Knows No End, and A Matter of Degrees, a short story collection, The Madman and Fu, and a novella, Be Not Afraid of What You May Find, as part of World Poetry/Prose Portfolio, curated by Sudeep Sen
Fear and Trembling
Why my love do you draw the darkness from me?
Whose hand is being held in this tempestuous flight?
Two wings are not unknown to each other
and you are already aware of my smile.
O clever, the rain will lead us to sleep —
you holding my hand, and I bearing wounds.
So what of it?
Tell me who is in control of our flighty doom?
What penetrates our fears?
Having each other we have no need of fear and trembling.
The Heart Does Not Speak
(I have waited
breathless and silent
on this bedside,
not knowing, not hearing.)
(Lord, that I hear not
Your voice,
so simple and weighted
are my thoughts.)
(Nothingness is the abyss
between this moment and myself.
Let the young boy survive
to smile again.)
(And angel, please breathe,
and visit me again…
speak kind words,
surrender to this silence.)
Break My Heart Again
Break my heart again, my dear One
who fears the false world.
Uproot my tree and trek my angel wings.
My solitude, you flutter now,
on my wings —
the heart stutters to shed tears.
Jealousy, wrath, Da, and the life
I have lived
malodorously in the forest’s shadows.
What are your thoughts, playful One?
My envy strikes like lightning
and soon I am playing with fire.
Do you miss the smiles I gave
and does the wind
still hold my kiss?
Was my letter mailed with dark wish
mysterious?
Why do Poets know all, bear all?
o Beauty, stop:
rid me of myself.
I am feckless in the streets, yearning.
My heart sinks, floats, rises in the poem.
Yearning, a kiss of fires malcontent,
gave my All the absence of wings.
Hymn to Solitude: An Invocation (I.)
Entangled with eternal ecstasy,
I plan a flight into adult’rous shame.
My word I shear of all desired fame
for fear of peril to my honesty.
What virtue grants, I sing in Poetry.
I withdraw to solitude begging frame
of my own fragile heart in love’s meek game.
All decried chance is foreign frivolity.
I am free at once of youthful dreaming.
My muses o’ercome the angsty noise
of rapport, snobbery, and gossip’s fruit.
Silence is my late return to Being.
For now I sleep only in beguiled choice.
What is distance from the usual suit?
Trinity
The heart is silent
but the mind will speak —
vapidly yet timidly
it asks for release —
The Spirit sorts through
tangles and asks for redress —
not heart nor mind
will mediate the mess.
The Trinity together
harness a lie
Hidden and unconscious
let loose and fly
Untitled
a beautiful scream
of lust, circumference breaking.
it doesn’t announce itself.
and she walks wounded,
skirting the trees of humility.
fallen torch, a thought
in sanctimonious shroud.
the world loves her charms
and sweet sophistication,
but in humility —
she is only doing God’s work.
Untitled
I want the world to be infinite
for you
so that your heart will live for love:
within your spiritual complexion
rest roses of beatitude.
A fire of fury never lounges to escape —
only you tend to the garden
before you, an angel lush with crimson.
I seek your love like a phantom
of splendor —
growth comes with our sheltering.
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