Mavi (Turkish for 'blue') a collection of short poems

By Wrulf Gunkl · Apr 10, 2010 ·
  1. for The Beloved
    ___

    We love dreaming hallucinations
    of ivory towers out of fear
    of tumbling truly asleep into visions of
    doghouses and nightmares of
    Tinseltown-Princesses
    falling in love with the dog in the backyard…

    * * *

    Alexander… they called him Great,
    loved a beautiful soldier and a beautiful horse,
    kissed one
    and the riddle is: Did he kiss both?
    which one first and with the most ardor?…

    ___

    … pulsing…
    … our blood thick
    with us together
    oceans of each other
    in the salted mist,
    rapt, I hear your thunder and hiss
    am at sea in your siren call
    beckoning my shores
    cleansed of all else…
    … our anchor rocked
    in the umbilical rhythm
    washing through us
    ceasingly pulsing…

    * * *

    … my vision of you blinded me
    when you came to live
    in the irises of my eyes…
    … the ultimate,
    marriage of illumination and lustrous darkness…
    … perfection of vision – blind, yet
    still seeing…
    irises…

    * * *

    … there is a dark realm of every
    kiss as the kiss of death…

    * * *

    … I am dying even while I am living
    the death you handed me – music
    searching blindly for us in
    forsaken alleys,
    fractured, empty bottles of wine
    reflecting the winking of stars
    we hold in our hands…

    * * *

    … you send me artificial roses…
    … their spears mock my
    fingers,
    your ears hear my words, my voice,
    … are your guts listening to
    the inflection of mine
    trying to breathe life
    into the petals – and thorns?…

    * * *

    … I am spirit-Casanova
    a consecrated harlot of soul,
    boundless, my loves…
    … oceans envy my reach…

    * * *

    … ask and I’ll disrobe for
    the velvet storm of your eyes,
    barren but for your glance,
    not sleeping, reveling
    in velvet drunkenness to our core …
    … then again, you don’t have to ask…
    … I have been assailed beyond the
    illusion of my robe…

    * * *

    … in my
    drunkenness I don’t see double,
    I see the blurring of our shadows
    etched from above the clouds…
    … stumble…
    … fall with me…
    the floor is a place for us
    to lie
    inundated in stupor
    our stink rising from the floor as one…

    * * *

    … reach deeply into the quiver,
    your hand won’t get lost
    except in my flame…
    … come…
    … the arrows will follow…

    * * *

    … respiration…
    perspiring through
    the smudged
    windowpane that
    is us,
    indistinguishable from lost expulsions of the hidden sun,
    sacredotal robe,
    we hide in our nakedness
    unashamed to sweat raging
    pheromones of naked desire
    to live in, breathe one another
    until stricken by
    arrows of the
    moon and laid side by side…
    … who cares about the silly sun?…

    * * *

    … our love needs no tailoring,
    unclothed we wallow and play
    in the biting November rain
    tattering the warp and woof of our
    mother sea –
    - liquid muslin – too much clothing
    let us
    get more naked than naked,
    more than the earth
    the sky,
    all the tailoring we need in
    the ocean wind…
    … do you feel its sting
    shredding the veil of
    even the rain?…

    * * *

    … I felt my heart
    thundering in the grip
    of your satin-steel gloves
    lightning rods thrust inward
    to a bone-searing…
    … and still I am stunned,
    please let me sleep
    until the dawn of more thunder…

    * * *

    … I can’t mirror you,
    only hope to hold you in
    a reflection of myself, dagger
    of heaven
    through our pores screaming
    in a fever for a transcendent wound – alchemy…
    … madness…

    * * *

    … a chemical, my love
    enlivening the roots of you
    in the ash heap
    of all this…
    … and I encompassed by the
    reek, infusing myself
    with your incense incinerating all that is,
    with me firmly lashed to the acrid-smoking pyre…
    … our essence rising above the stench…

    * * *

    … when you leave
    there is no death
    no silence but
    soundless cries
    of chaos – living,
    nothing when you retrurn
    but heat raging between here
    and beyond,
    furnace-anthem struggling
    toward fusion …
    … my longing
    for a molten center …

    * * *

    … snarling beneath the despairing numbness
    shuddering trap of my teeth caressing your veins
    trying to strain you back into my recesses..
    … hissing silence,
    blood-cadence, smoke and
    seething ice beneath
    the emptiness…
    … only a trash can to catch and love the debris…

    * * *

    … moon-stripped void of mine
    staring into the pre-time howling of wolves
    and sand through your hair
    spinning requiem
    - ours – in a cauldron of void,
    moon-watched, staring… unashamed…

    * * *

    … I beg your indulgence in rough,
    uneven
    rhythms, for my best refuge
    is me – with the door open to you,
    Come, jitterbug in gratitude, in that
    a stuttering heart is a heart alive…
    … stutter with me…

    * * *

    … how brutal!… I
    said ‘I love you’
    and deepened was the pool
    of our blood-touched union opening
    to the most beautiful of poisonous flowers;
    we drank deeply, drugged
    we slept wide-eyed in each others arms…

    * * *

    … deeply
    where unfurl the petals
    burn the jarring-jagged points, the
    flourishes
    of our labyrinth beyond
    unraveling…
    … unsolvable riddle, primal,
    priceless, profanely scorching…

    * * *

    … trembling echoes – smoldering -
    our lava boils upward
    to singe away the scars…
    … ashes of newness…
    … the wind has never been more lost…
    … demons of joy are on the loose…

    * * *

    … love is blasphemy inherent,
    scripture…

    * * *

    … the distance between us – scorned
    by the glance of your eyes possessed
    by our nights
    flittering before the mocking dawn of your eyelashes…
    … sunrise disheviling darkness has
    never been more replete,
    as close as
    our clutching fingernails
    eyelash to eyelash, skin-of-skin…

    * * *

    … a bright shadow casts our darkness -
    never more luminous…

    * * *

    … suspended, I languish in the wantonness of
    your shadow,
    breathless, watching you kick it around…
    … lost… found … lost…
    … I don’t live on the edge,
    we are the edge, you and I…
    … the exit is the way in…

    * * *

    … give me your cheek
    and I’ll slap your
    blood to your roots,
    stunning them, shouting them awake,
    the dance thereof will never die
    and resurrection never sleep
    except to dream…
    … us…

    * * *

    … you came down from Mt. Olympus
    and my head suddenly spun
    with your olive scent,
    craning my neck to
    look up at your tangled hair
    searching to fathom our connection
    crowning the summit
    holding our olive branch
    torn from your sacred grove…
    … anointed snare of our depths,
    dirt-scented vine of Olympus…

    * * *

    … shards of laughter
    strew some alleys,
    shattered grace of bridges,
    haunted sacrifice of cathedrals, hovels, our temple…
    … strewn… stinging grace of laughter
    aching to remove the shards…

    * * *

    … no wound is deeper
    than that laid open
    by your eyes and I bathe
    in the salt sweat to immersion,
    never crying out
    for a ceasing
    of the flood
    riding mercilessly
    toward our immolation…

    * * *

    … I once was prenatally afraid
    of your eyes, now luxuriating
    in the exquisite excruciation of terror
    renewing the womb of my being…
    … I can only beg
    for bliss of the nightmare evermore…

    * * *

    … the raven spoke: ”Nevermore!”
    and I wandered into the raven-soul of night
    casting about for wings…
    … my face was smitten by the feathers of
    yours soaring through the musky dark,
    and it rained!
    ”nevermore!”
    … our wings are locked together…

    * * *

    … numb satin intoxication arising
    to awakening epiphany of anguish,
    expectant grind of waiting,
    ecstasy of desperation to fall unleashed
    for flight…
    … let me see into your eyes and
    I shall lose my grip,
    … linger for my plunge…

    * * *

    … before you pull the trigger
    ask yourself if there is any love
    at the point of a gun…
    … or anything but…

    ___

    … staggering,
    I fell on my face
    in The Ineffable One
    hidden rawly in the smell of your feet lifting me back to mine,
    staggering, still, but
    wrapped in the musky perfume of
    Ineffable Oneness…
    … forever – lost – ecstatic…

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