“…Gold as anything needed to be
to and to find its form
Somehow, somewhere but where?
The keys cross: to open to close
The bonfire sparkles as she dances:
As she spits, stares and lures
The light reflects upon the flesh
of the whole complexion of the night.
Here is where the men and the women
Find light in this lightless sanctuary
Their voices that become; poetic –
Poetry opposing the eyes attachment
….deep and dark the salted ambiance
Olive skinned red and green
The liquidity of the grape
Telling tales: telling – telling
The soul is here: alone
Against the night: the two become one”’
“I was there, was it a dream?
…or life or a dream of life
Romanticism and classicism are lost
They were not needed
as we did not need anything,
We are dancing with the flames
Long long into the night….”
The dawn drew up and away
from the nights fire dream state.
As we awoke in amnesia.
Smelling only cinders and ash.