...stares...16jun19...

There is no regalia in the sun light, but pomp
As you may see me
Yet I may see differently in my stare

Fantastic things
Star fields of brilliant color
That paint the vivid fields of night
Aback the costumed trees that seemingly dance
Stretching up, undulating to the rhythmic wind

Creatures that bray and chortle
in musical choir
a chorus you've yet to hear
(but even now you may delight to think what it may be)
Night birds in ancient song
lull us to simplest pleasures

By the shore
of painted waters
perhaps you are there
with languid line
your voluminous hair
and soft nape
drape to a soft arm
that, with lighted touch,
upon the merry streams
as if keys
or chords

Forgive my stare then
It may not what you think it be

Forgive want
As it may be just a memory
that can only be
in reverie

Mistake it not
for anything that
may be truth
as what a
heart's beat
may only be.

[short/rough]: Poorer Offerings the Wiser

laid at your feet

All that I had...all of what I could be
my heart, for what it's worth, may hold some value
to anyone other
could be brave, take my gaze, tell me what it amounts
even as a mere acquaintance I should feel more value than 

an abjected ally now
am I so easily cast, after all?

was it age, or time, or unintended me 

which detracted that first entrancing gleam
where I did my best to prove, that it was love (the best of what I could)
no small offerings here
just say the word
any one will do
and proof will be given

but being met in silence
or fear
or the mild misunderstanding that creates derisiveness
the light snarl of the lip
the flippancy of action
and it cuts me to the core
and I'll admit it
I'll tell you I wish it weren't so

but here it is

and how, or, by what means do you weigh an offered love?
impossible measures never met?
impassable climes of situational perfection?
unfathomable riches you'll heed in anyone else but me?
where I'm encumbered in admirable stones
aglow with the bright tones, respect and love
sigils of what is best, perhaps misplaced
assuredly
but where I could assure is that
if you simply accept them
hesitancy would fall away for you would see them true and not to harm

but in hailing, providing clarity
without no other desire than acceptance
all given
no one thing in return

where your lips would only be happily met in eager warmth
eyes that ignore the passing pleasures of the age to stare at you
and revel in the the darker hues when you look at mine
I sense subtlety
and done what i could to embrace yours
yet here we are
impassable, unfortuitous
lost.

[rhyme] la femme dangereuse

SHE collects their attention, steals any modicum of silence
or solace yet claims nothing
as if each glance were but a breath
taken but unremembered
where the fancy and object of desire is calm as silk
the fancier is brutalized
hungering for that which will only escape him
clamor in want
that will never, ever come
the animus fills
and the sheets soak in fitful, quiet rage
leading each time, every time, to hate
HER name
Soir de Paris in lace that was begged for as consolation
the feel of her skin, where one would swear it never touched before
and the reaction, the moment where the entire frame could be felt
and almost yours
and, as fleeting as it was,
the next instant the distance
insurmountable and cold

the eyes lost from you
not as if forgotten, even in a loss of memory, in the least there is a thread
that could be pulled
but not here

you are kept alive for some time
to extract what is needed to keep Guerlain upon those lips
Balenciaga on her shoulder
Lightly playing with langoustines a la vapeur at Hostellerie Jerome
After riding a young man from Brussels since lunch

Perhaps it's us
What does the hunt for the elusive
in the end
gain?