Tortured Worlds (working title)

Feels to me like every atom, every cell is a Universe...So many Circles inside Circles, all Touching each other,
at best,
caressing each other...
A separate Universe in your Eyes...
~~~~~~~~~~

Universe in my finger,

warms the Blood of my wine, while

Wildly mourn the scratchy vines, 

scream the disappearance! another group of children!!

into the shared ?  "Universe Human,"

a sad noisy joyful cacophony of Wilder World...

You beckon here  before me,

 in a glass, throaty whisper from DreamTime, 

Dawning crimson horizon

Ancient thirst -

Down...

gentle kisses wisp the Worlds of my Thoughts, 

as you dance around my Mind,

 soothe ached knee's pain, 

its Universe of sinew, bone and ache,

another Universe to navigate

in this Heated, 

sick wilting World, large lonesome land,

a long heavy lady, Nyx, 

smiles faraway up,  with her babies around her,

 Hypnos and Thanatos,

A three-prong-ed NightMare;

She laughs in her Universe on top of Time;

nearer they creep, beneath Night's painted blanket,

Become 

 a deeply quilted shroud 

for those cells, for those Souls,

 happily frozen, even below deepest Water...

Tortured Worlds.

All.

A cell sleeps in a stain of the sole

of an old painted boot from Guanajuato,

still softly damp -

his Soul backstrokes lazy inside Her Heated SkyBlanket,

Rooted yet to this place

He tries to  view his beloveds,

 to scream their burning Universe;

but they're blinded.

We cannot see him in the haze of Her son, Hypnos,

his sweltering gaze

has transported us… to unquiet Dreams.

Universe in my fingertip,

warms the Blood of my wine, while

Wildly mourn the scratchy vines, 

scream the disappearance! another group of children!!

into the shared ?  "Universe Human,"

a sad noisy joyful cacophony of Wilder World...

Universes inside each other,

Tiny Worlds grown large in my eyes,

Universes, all!

They collide in Her Heat;

 percussion waves, stomps.

Tiny teardrops,

Each crystal  holds sweet healing faeries,

dancing like  Moondolls in shaken paper snow

The flakes so Cold, so Real in the Globes of my tongue,

my World-

I’ve paid to be part,

survived to be here

in these frozen burning Worlds

My finger-tip Universe,

I cannot enter you, yet you live in me,

With  the Blood of the wine,  Alive!

 Warm pulsing sound of Her Heart, of mine

I see the Tear,

Sweet little round World

In my Lover’s eye.

His long, slender fingers fold the Mutli-Universed
Dissonant Symphony,

Into  delicate Origami Hearts,

Worlds inside Worlds,  safely quiet now-

Inside the World of  his embrace,

Hypnos may have me til Morn

incomplete August 4, 2010