Praise

I

My Center

From that first breath I inhaled,

when my mouth lingered near your neck, a hunger grew.

There is no better word for it, there is nothing closer to truth.

The desperate urge, the incessant longing

formed somewhere in my center.

The gaze we shared, the nervous glances,

Building cathedrals of painted glass between my throat, and chest.

We were constructing elaborate works of art.

Immaculate in detail, and such delicate design.

A glowing realization dawns an exhilaration of knowing

that you are the one that has shown 

me my sanctuary 

From the first breath I inhaled near your neck

You are the piece I was missing. You are the answer to my riddle,

You are the center of me you are my middle.

There is no other altar worthy of my worship.

There is no other’s praise I would sing.

 II                                                                           

 Jazz

        Consider this pitiful rhythm

hallelujah to you. You are hazel & evergreen.

I am gray & blue.

You are the best & most holy part of me,

You are the stars that have always inspired,

A muse moving words through me.

You are the sea without horizon that makes me

          breathe deeper,

because I believe

        

I am so insignificant, silent, & small. 

Jazz music doesn’t resolve.

It only circles rhythm & melody.

It is improvised free, always changing

what it should, & could be telling me.

 Question & answer,

Singing back breathlessly.

                 

You are music, you are meaning.

This is my philosophy: you confirm my being,

affirm my existence,

      such a small dimple to possess such power.

     No more dreaming

of rhythms I cannot create,

no more redundant words of metaphor or music.

 just like jazz

this cannot resolve,

& I can only improvise as it flows

I can only close my eyes & float.