Skin Deep

From adventofreason’s Xanga Archives . . .

The Kiss (detail)  Gustav Klimt~The Kiss

he never could discern just what the flower
was that curved delicately down her hip bone
to her upper thigh and then disappeared
somewhere behind her knee, trailing
tendrils of green and lavender
she had told him once-was it lilac?
or something else-wisteria?
she had not been a delicate girl
her hair a ruddy red and a spray
of freckles across her body
her jaw was a bit too square and her
eyes tried to be green, but were
grey and smoky
her arms told of her strength and
she could drink most men under
the table, telling dirty jokes to make
a sailor blush
but that traveling flower down her
leg, from hip to knee always made
him see her as something ethereal
and dainty; how he loved to kiss that
purple ink, leaving a trail of moisture
on her pale skin
he would lie awake at night
alone in his narrow bed and wish that
he had learned to love more than
just that tattoo

ceg 11.2.11


The Life she Led

From adventofreason’s Xanga Archives . . .


she probably had a boy who loved her, once upon a time
they may have held hands on the walk to school
or kissed under the fiery light of sunsets
i imagine that her lips were waiting many years to be kissed
the way they were meant to be kissed
and that her body ached to be held and loved by that boy
she was ordinary in the most extraordinary way
and would often be found writing fragments of verses
in book margins or envelopes even once on a sugar packet
she dreamed about songs and how words could be
woven into the strands of her hair, secrets for only his eyes
and she learned to wait and to be patient, drenching herself
in prayers and hopes and see the world with the sweetness
of lavender sachets hidden away in the deepest part of her heart

ceg 11.12.11

When the Sun Rises

From adventofreason’s Xanga Archives . . .



when you close your eyes
that is where you will find me
before dreams take you
you escape earth’s bonds
floating in and out of sleep
until you claim me
your nocturnal bride
bedecked in silvery stars
gliding on moonbeams
holding your heart dear
eyes filled with gentle longing
your name on my lips
no distance nor time
or the shackles of this earth
dare keep us apart
when the sun rises
we are drawn again earthward
spirits still entwined
ceg 7/21/11

At the Garden, by the Gate

From adventofreason’s Xanga Archives . . .


My dearest Johannes,

There is a chance that I shall be able to find you yet.  I leave the islands today and should be in your fair city soon.  I can only hope that you will find it in your heart to greet me with open arms and a smile.  It has been a lifetime since I last felt your kiss brush against my skin and your whispers in my ear.  When I think of it, I tremble like a silly school girl.

I do remember that night we spent on the rooftop with stars above us and the glimmering of the lights from the city below us.  You said that the light made my skin glow.  I believe it is you who made my skin glow that night.  I can almost feel your mouth on mine, plucking it like some ripe fruit and savoring it at your leisure.  You had to keep your mouth on mine to keep me silent, lest some nosy passerby thought I were being ravaged against my will.

Do you still have that book of poetry that I gave you?  It took so long to write all of my favorite verses down for you.  That bit of a lyric that you loved so much; I never could find it and place it in the book for you, though I tried so hard.  I remember it was about a  rare flower found in a valley by a knight for his fair lady.

I never did believe Madeline when she told me that you had left.  I knew that no power could keep you from me and that you must have been taken by force.  Conscripted into the army, no doubt.  Set sail on some loathsome ship with wretched captors.  Or perhaps it was a robbery gone wrong that found you in the hands of some foul misanthrope.  It makes me shudder.  The thought of you being held against your will; my name upon your lips as you fought to get away.

I dream of you every night and know that I have at last found a trace of you.  I am saddened that your ordeal has erased my memory from you, but I am confident when you see me again, you will once again embrace me with the same vigor you held me all those years ago.

Until then, I leave you with this

In spring’s fair winds you seek me
Trembling to behold thee
In white linen’s sheaths I wait
At the garden by the gate
And when beheld by your eyes
I shall be your bonny prize
Your treasured love hast returned
Upon my heart your name is burned
  Fetch me now, I pray
  And by your side I’ll stay

Your Trijntje

ceg 2.20.12

beginner’s misfortune


sometimes it rains
so hard and for so long
we forget what the sun looks like
or how it illuminates all
that the rain seeks to hide

sometimes the sun
is so brilliant
we forget to look away
and we are blinded to
what is obvious to everyone else

won’t be made again
only the naive can make
that still haunt

ceg  9.27.15