Milky Way

It's the unassuming way

He holds his cigarette.

Peers sideways from his eyebrows. 

Burning blue.  Liquid voice.

Reined in like a well-bred stallion.

Or is it the way she clings?

Hands open and tactile. 

Golden proportion.

Looking for certainty in his eyes.

She seems brash next to him.

Easy.  Not overpowering.

Smiling diamond in Pegasus. 

Riding velvet. 

We worship the contrast.

Hold on to the backs of our seats.

Weightless.  Milky.

Compelling nebula.

Soft and hard shooting stars.

Constellation too good to be true.
Exotic smear in the galaxy. 

tk/June 2015


Delicious read by R.A.D. ...

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Heroic Pink

There is a brave new shade;
coming flush of innocence 
made complete. Color 
stretched globally, wielded 
with a twist; juicy mix 
of wicked and meek.

Archetype hues conquer 
celebrated softness, embody 
giving and release. Rampant
sunset, blush without apology; 
semi-divine pink 
of Amazons and queens.


tk/December 2014


Excellent read by R.A.D. Stainforth...in a slightly different venue...

Minestrone

Madonna With the Milk Soup, 1510, Gerard David

The orchestration that captures me

is composed on album covers,

scribbled at night in the margins of cookbooks,

moonless on junk mail.

Steamy bowls wait in the windowsill

until morning, when they have cooled

enough to be spooned and sipped,

the tang that comes with my heightening.

The ladle is filled to overflowing;

take care with rustling, everything might spill.

You have something of mine, maestro―

the close rhythm of this sigh.

tk/December 2013


A delicious read by R.A.D. Stainforth...

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Ephemera

It would be foolish to stash it,
unlocked, under a rug or mattress.

I take it out often, inhale the fragrance,
alphabetize it, 
count and double-check it,
like foreign currency.

When my time comes,
I'll listen to Shostakovich,
and bury it beneath the tree
I long to be pressed against and kissed. 

Seeds of passion will sprout roots,
and bloom, uninhibited.

tk/June 2012


R.A.D. with Dmitri looking on...

*Still Life, 1670, detail by Jean François de Le Motte

new poetical venue

The talented Ronaldo Antonio Dent Stainforth, better known as R.A.D. Stainforth, of Manchester, U.K., has been kind enough to audio record my poems, and post them to YouTube. I send him the weekly text, and his velvety-voiced interpretation is flawlessly spot on every time.   He recently suggested the exciting notion of making video clips of my poetry, taking my words to a new dramatic level.  Stay tuned for various and sundry poetical venues, dear readers. Thank you, R.A.D.

Cull

I sunburn

under your

late-summer eyes,

our tongues hinge,

then come apart

like two rakes,

side by side.

We cull essence,

swallow brine

with the tang

of Russian vodka

in your mouth,

the silvery-cold taste

of well water in mine.

tk/March 2012

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image: Uzengia Aleksander Nedic