A sultry hum from a mountain sea,
A bleached sun rocking in shore-bound currents.
On the marshy bank a black swan is looking,
Meditatively, at its own shivering reflection,
Ashen wings burning golden in the sea
Like a fallen angel encountering its honesty.
The soft sigh of the willows
Seep through the shadowland
Where weeping ferrymen
Steer their canoes through morning dew.
Wild ducks, with sea salted wings,
Migrate through dawn
Shedding golden leaves like syrup fingers
Attaching their palms to the ground.
Cuts in the night sky deepen and
Bleed honey onto the horizon
Herding nightbirds and dreaming children
I swam through the forest
With sunshine in my hands
My thoughts nailed to trees
Like satin veils
Obscuring the world in lavender pale.
The waves brought me further
Into a field of wrecked sails
Where ropes were withered
By sea and salt.
Eventually I arrived to a shore
Where only the bodiless could port
And I threw my skinny tethers
And I was reborn.
And the stars in the sky…
Like cracks in old china
No longer afraid to get burned
By trembling rays of sun
Bursting through the quiet
And you…despite your age
Have not solved a single mystery
Dipped in the stardom
Of summer nights.
The twilight is stumbling
In too much sun,
Getting lost behind tree trunks
Searching for the night
In long desperate shadows
It can can no longer cover its radiance
in the austerity of pious
The evenings are soft in June.
Blue and pink mist rippling through
Sleepless lilac-scented nights.
The silvery shadows of seabirds
Gliding over a quiet carpet of sea.
Contours are blurred, but never dissolved.
Even at midnight you can hear
the eerie cry of terns hunting low in the sky.
Dreams can be waved freely from
Sail-less ship masts on evenings like this,
Even if you find yourself in the middle
Of a port-less sea.