beloved

every move
for me is like riding
the crest of some oscillation

ringing around you
in endless orbit

at each moment approaching
never reaching

this movement is what i am
i have been falling so long
that doing so defines me
and sets the edges of my days

to say that i long to be near you
is really missing the point
this longing is what i am
as long as you are in the bounds of my perception

somewhere in the fabric of my design
you name is etched
within the substance
that fills me

all of my wanderings
in search of you
are merely the execution
of instructions

the inscriptions
that chart the path between us
the scripture of devotion
which seems to have no end

now
this is the verse
i am sending you
so you may guess
why you always see me
stumbling
whirling
falling

treading all around the tracks
you leave
like a wake
in my ocean

(copyright Peter Watts 12.08.2010)

lux

before my eyelids separate
i see you

an imprint
of your face
inked with golden fire

it is hard to shake it
like an afterimage
of the sun

anything i see afterword
is outshined
and it seems a weak, pale shadow

my days are framed
as i try and chart your passage
here and there

they start and end with waiting
for you to cross the shortest line
between infinity and I

my waking and dreaming
find you in my eye

alabaster,
gold
and rose

and the limitless blue of vast seas beyond measure

i call you up from my memory
by the force of lionging
and gather your likeness
out of motes drfiting
in a shaft of light

you speak to me in echoes
fractal transformations
in untold repetitions

octaves in consonance
older than time

all my days spent remembering
in fragments
what you told me long ago

without words
in the medium of numbers
scattered rings of particle coalescence

like the ridges of sand beneath the waves

and all the work of human scribes
is merely a cypher
mapping the trail of your scattered shards

as you break
and skid around every boundary
and fan out in ripples

all these years i have follwed you
without knowing

making verse
from the fevered patterns
of the search

at this moment
i have given up
trying to trace your tracks
with words
or tones
or numbers
with any kind of signs

i am leaving
this imprint
as a marker

i have lost your trail
your prints have been
trampled beneath my own

motionless
till my thoughts
slow
then still completely

then dream till dawn.


. . .

copyright Peter A. Watts 2011

conjunct

twine
as vines
around again

embracing,
stitch up
what time rends:

the space between
the flesh and bone

with whispered words
like spells intoned

their purpose
all discord to mend

with heat-loosed limbs
and melting minds
 adrift from all the ports of time

eternal instant
while we grasp

what slips away
now into past

but here and now
we are just one

without a veil 
all unison
. . .

Copyright Peter Watts 2010