Zodiac Series Vol. 9-2



Your dark blue angles twist my vision,

flesh out the invisible motions like travel pangs.

Another couple might sleep through a night of iron chills

in peace as though God breathed the same air.

With a similar sigh your thumbs wake us like wadded blankets

as they shift gentle strategies of touch.

In dreams you teach us a mode of love

in which to seize the night. 


Outside, beyond our bodies lie the unseen

Pagan shimmers and Lunar shadows barely passing,

waiting up for couples with a promise of Limousines.


We turn while boundless galaxies fall like frozen stones,

the atmosphere claiming more than itís shared eternity. 

Only you could sense that night is where we really are,

forced to shut our eyes to things, to set ourselves aside,

power up the natural magic and search for an emptiness.


You test our poetic moments because the sun is without

and you are within ... or the opposite, for all it matters.

Without days you would still claim to exist, to love life,

to cling to night's true character, yet be wistful about the day.


You would note by moonlight on tiptoed rounds those

half-dressed remnants of ourselves, the misplaced fears,

the heart of angular momentum where uncertainties linger,

naked against your throat and never let you sleep. 


You like to stand guard while I dream,

you, alone on a garden wall or a parapet. 

Are there stones below? Will you go beyond them?

Does love protect the creatures of the dark?

What's left after dawn, after the beautiful sunrise

for me, is not sunlight, and the days are mere debris.


Your heart is racing and you are correct to point out

that man is something nervous, reminiscent of a shrew,

an idiot who still needs the paradise he outgrew.


Getting from place to place is all heaped up,

a dumping ground for courageous effort, lost and longed for. 

Love and longing are like thirst, stronger than greed,

guiding us through ever darker and darker spaces.


©Jimmy Warner Design, 2016