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