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Does Chaos Count as an Emotion?

Does chaos count as an emotion?
Or is it just another lie
we tell ourselves to hide
the fact of holes in our understanding
of the workings of the mind?

I look at you and all I feel is chaos –
a mingling of what is and was,
what could be had and lost
and what I truly feel hides there behind –
an answer that my mind won’t let me find.

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Enmeshed

Enmeshed in thoughts of black and gold
of amber and of careful skill,
and drawn towards these almond pools
whose sparkles drain my will

Enmeshed and tangled into strength
which carries weakness in it too,
caught up in thoughts uncertain of
the whereabouts of (always!) you

Outside my window stands a tree
with leaves unfolded, clad in green,
and on my window sill is set
an ashtray, cigarette butts within

But in my head I only see
those smiles, those tears, those memories
who with your disappearance ought,
yes ought!, but never quite do, cease

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Golden Leaf

Those golden autumn leaves –
I think of you –
your life a leaf of time itself
and sharing hue –

Your golden skin, angular bones –
a withered leaf –
the dewdrops on the leafs; your tears
that’s bound to cease

Your eyes that glitter amber-brown –
vitality is here –
development still going on;
there’s beauty there

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You, My Poem

How concentrate when you are here?
It’s difficult for sure.
And when you’ve left, still more
than while you still were here.

How can I write a poem
with an exquisite poem by my side;
what could I say that isn’t tried
about you? My heart’s poem.

How concentrate? I fail, you see,
much rather than write I wish
to study your features, and with a kiss
sign you, my poem: “by Me.”

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When You Smile

Those wonderful, curious ridges
and valleys adorning your face
that speak simultaneously to me
of agelessness and bygone age;

Those shadows and highlights; treasures
of wisdom both old and new
contained in your smile and your wrinkles
ceaselessly draw me to you;

What good is simple beauty
that knows very little of time?
No, tempered by time and struggles,
such polished it’s made sublime;

And through your beautiful wisdom,
which smiles bring to your face,
I sense an ocean of vital strength
transgressing the passage of time, and age.

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Who Are You?

you stirred the water of my soul,
a new beginning could you mold –
who are you? I don’t know.

what power could stillwater free,
turn a wasteland into a sanctuary?
what power lies in you that I can’t see?

not see, but feel it’s effects; feel
the tidal force when round you wheel
in circles around me. who are you?

I don’t know, and I don’t care
as long as you are here
I need not to hear named a thing
which cannot really be explained.

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Iconostasis 2.

The touch of your hand and the sound of your voice –
the smile and the movement of lips and of tongue –
the flicker of eyes and of eyelids, your breath,
the turn of your head and your shoulders, your warmth –

The tightening of sinews, your delicate fingers,
the ironic glimpse in your flicker of smiles –
the picturesque shape of your bones and your features,
the dignified shyness of poise and of gait –

The worries that furrowed your brow and your cheeks,
the wisdom that rests behind smiles, behind tears –
the knowledge you’ve gained, the illusions you’ve lost,
the marks left behind by your loves, hopes and fears –

The distant remoteness you try to preserve,
the closeness you need and the substitutes for it;
leave that in the past, and let’s see for the future
if not my embrace could prove much better fit.

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Interlude

A plane unfolding a cloud is the only
sign of other life we have in sight
while under this, the sky of the earliest
of the early days of Spring’s reluctant light
we tread a path through last year’s
withered stems
and talk about all else than what we want.

And then a silence long and rarely broken
before we see it all again.

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Lee Shores

While I was tossed about by waves
and couldn’t make it home a-shore
I never thought that I should live
to see the daylight anymore

As wave by wave came crashing in
I thought that I should breathe my last
and I prepared myself to face
whatever end earned by my past

I then an unexpected foothold got
when waves diminished and my boat
instead of being tossed about
now suddenly with ease could float

These lee shores I have found and what’s to do
but feeling restful when this way upheld
by gentle currents coming out from you
who withhold storms from being by me felt

I’ve dreamt of waves, and drowning too,
each nightmare followed by the next,
a long succession of them so
at last I thought that I was cursed

But when I sense your hand and voice
I’m sent back instantly to sail
in the smooth waters of your arms,
your breath the only wind to fill my sail

Your chest, your arms my lee shores when afraid,
your eyes, your voice my comfort when alarmed –
the ocean of my mind can do no harm;
when you are here my darker thoughts abate