Such Deliberate Loveliness: Collected Love Poems of Paul Hina 1997-2006

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Such Deliberate Loveliness: Collected Love Poems of Paul Hina 1997-2006 Page 9

by Paul Hina

truth

  in this home where your many delicate

  cartoons will twinkle in such ageless

  crystal that will sparkle as sweet

  and similar as your eyes like the

  windows to the heaven that surrounds

  this place where from within you give

  so good a sky to inspire wishes never

  ending

  and those miracles that grow from

  inside these palace walls will become

  little lives to bounce from the love

  that hides in your hands and will soon

  become lights bursting out everywhere

  to shine for you

  and all over the world these gorgeous

  glowing births of yours will become

  starlight people off somewhere making

  angels into snow

  9

  when i look into the ice a blur

  quickly wets my eye so that pictures

  collect in every crack of cold water

  freezing ever more still to make

  quiet all the world around a sequence

  as romantic as playing cold noses

  with a girl so warmly new as could

  only be a little faded you

  and a fade of you is still a woman

  cracked lovely whitened by the cold

  of this icy portrait holding some

  snow so delicately like a fever were

  to melt it away if your frail hands

  could not remain silent from touching

  or placing hesitated palms to a face

  for comfort giving

  and as warm as you are when you

  collect, all of you, together i

  can not imagine how anything as

  golden as your smile doesn’t tend

  to light up all the night for those

  who sleep so far away as to never

  know that the snow falls heavy when

  you are away not lightening it with

  your dancing fingers counting how

  many colds you will warm in between

  the breath of your kiss and the taste

  of your inner flesh coming once again

  together like being born again inside

  your thousand mouth flowers not ever

  dreaming of a possibly cold while

  pressed against your lips slightly

  open for a soft murdering of my

  mind-every time

  every time

  10

  there are ghosts that creep in the

  dusty places of the heart where each

  sound echoes and falls endless in

  the many depths of new you pushing

  always me to fall again and again

  many times over to build islands in

  your dream waters where a thousand

  fictions get trapped in the countless

  romantic webs of tangled music i try

  to consume in the near perfect country

  you are

  within your delicate skin there is a

  wet that drips in melody like a bubbling

  breath of life emerging to count every

  lonely that ever grew around me during

  the many wrecks of hopeful kiss approaching

  a few stolen moments here or there in

  your sleek throat when it caresses the

  lips of the memory songs have in a mouth

  that tastes like a unique sweet woman

  haunting a crowd with her ballad

  but from each ghost sound leaks a new

  heart body that rains more dust struggling

  to drink from the stream of the place you

  are ever so quietly building when you

  softly descend on them with the ease of

  thieves pulling blankets not to wake them

  and when the heart rests we will trail

  off like a puncture gaining ground to fill

  the new planet with piles of endless birdsong

  that will touch us as deep as we touch when

  no one is looking

  11

  in the crystal clean air of coldest

  winter are snow clouds swirling around

  me like a vision of dreaming you into

  motion moving with a silken silence

  that cracks open the stillness of the

  night into a speaking that collapses

  beneath your steps climbing a world

  towards god with the stealth of your

  quick quiet feet warming a dance

  under your twirling toes

  it is a shiver so white that surrounds

  me when this huddled christmas whispers

  your name with a crispness reserved for

  the mouths of angels that only your lips

  can lay on top of me

  and if ever i can not recall the scent

  of your air, the wisp of your kiss, then

  i know that you are always a grace to

  save my freezing life from breathing

  anything but a heat like your face when

  it unwraps a smile

  me making moons for you

  1

  and we make music when we run

  like tickling bed fingers chasing

  the belly breath of our beautiful

  squirming voice speaking softly

  from lips blowing into the hand birds

  that fly from the flutes in our throats

  this laughing we find will tie us up

  in crazy shapes where dreams play

  funhouses on our life walls like cartoon

  castles spilling out of our coming together

  hands when we trip fall a kiss surrounded

  by arms

  this little child we chase will one day

  catch us running knee deep through

  the greenest grass(so green its blue)

  that it will want to wrestle lovely dogs

  tangling a play in domestic yards

  called home where our music is made

  to wait no more and plays loud and

  long-

  after we're gone

  off somewhere chasing children

  2

  i remember springtime whenever i follow

  your beautiful walking like a rain rhythm

  so softly full of noise that it holds echoes

  as tremendously moving as the sound of

  you curving that ceramic flesh of legs

  that fly around me a twist of wind and

  wet

  i find faith in your blue sky eyes like a

  stem had warmed you with its wetness

  propelling water flowers on your face

  where that flimsy flesh floats across your

  bones to wrap a soft birth around my bliss

  and i wish i could sing as clear as christmas

  to convey the summer of a breeze so breathly

  aware as you blowing me away every time i

  watch you walk in from the rain of a clumsy

  world that can't properly hear how beautiful

  you move me

  3

  I

  when you look at me with those grace

  filled blue eyes that turn over great pink

  hills of cheeks falling over face corners

  like water cars pouring another delicate

  crash on me

  i lay outstretched and sprayed waiting

  for another rainy bucketful of kisses

  where your damp lips like fingers twist

  my skin dry with vibrations of goosebumps

  racing the length of my arms around your

  body warm and muddy white

  II

  there are songs jumping from under us

  when we squeeze all those lovely noises

  out of our hearts with the crimson fingers

&n
bsp; of thieves stealing roses from a house on

  a cloud by the sun where we lick those

  crazy clothes off our bodies and soar with

  chalky stomp feet all the way across the

  sky painting a faster feeling on the fur

  outside the stars that come together when

  we sink into the sky of your eyes and

  bury our breath in the muddy moments

  of me making moons for you

  my lovely

  my blue

  4

  somewhere someplace is a real

  life that happens again and again

  like an endless strand of memory

  playing that look you loved, or that

  kiss you dreamed

  and in this place dreams are not

  sleepy and kisses are neverending

  but they glow shine with the shape

  of starbodies caught in the fire of

  a million warm light blankets that

  smell like that smell you remember

  when you first tasted the snow or

  that explosion a body makes when

  someone falls inside you for the first

  time true

  somewhere someplace this happen

  every time i look at you

  every time i touch you

  5

  your hair falls all the way down

  a sliding crook called neck on

  the velvet arms of a thousand

  sleeves that stroke my imperfect

  hands flowing down the countryside

  of your back speckled by the color

  of flesh and spine that whispers a

  tremble on my fingers to drink the

  quick air of your breath, to fly

  through the glare of your hair

  and when my fingers trickle a

  bounce like water drops rolling

  from the rain of my hands onto

  the hills of your hips then i will

  sway a bent lip wet on the bone

  until it speaks and screams the

  sound of a river bursting open

  the walls of the places you hide

  when you sleep

  and when you quiver and breathe

  like a lung fresh out of water then

  i will grab your hand and the places

  you call dreams will swim us both

  to the great young grass where

  first kisses come to remember

  and lovers go to forget

  6

  sarah songs asleeping

  i have watched the stories of her throat

  open doors to dreams that could come

  true simply from the breath she blows

  from those lovely pink lumps she calls lips

  that turn pages like sleeping on a whisper

  and there is a melody in her mouth, a music

  that eases down the stairs of her hair to

  tell a kiss to crawl out like a cunning little

  kingdom that swells with hands and fingers

  that squeeze thighs and knees with the big

  music of her magical mumbling

  and out comes a pretty noise from her nose

  where i can hear her travel to rooms where

  she hides more stories in a box held loosely

  together by the hands of every paper heart

  i give her when she lets me hear the stories

  that pour from her belly onto that sleepy

  curve she calls body

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