Revisiting

or
Conversations my brain has with itself when I convince myself I’m falling in love

How hard do I have to try to make you think I’m not crazy?
How many times do I have to spell your name before it sounds like my own?
How many keys in this trap door until one snaps?
How many strings strung broke on my guitar until this song about you is in tune?

Monday Monday Sunday Tuesday
When’s the next day of the rest of my life?

Key: C minor
accidental fourth step
below the night we met
in a church, that sanctuary
that day
where we meditated on the scent of indigo
and the sound of lavender ringing
hearts and telling cold
stories that end with goodbye
Good night, good night

Do you believe me, good God?
Have I convinced you?
I’m not crazy, just disturbed
My story ends,

Hello,

and strikes a chord
and hollows out the insides of my brain
What do you think my thoughts taste like?

Oh, and do you know what they told me in art school?
Sometimes
It’s all about the negative space.

EJZ 02.18.2016

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I hold your book in my hands –
weightless.
The edges become my fingertips;
The binding, my tendons,
The creases in pages,
the riverbeds of my palms.
I imagine your eyes
when they read these words before,
processed language to thought to meaning
to discover what I have yet to see.
I smell the coffee-stained pages, you
become part of my lungs.
I feel you wrap around me, warm,
tracing marks left on pages
left for me.
Separated only by a space we call distance,
bound together by what are now my tendons,
touching pages,
whispering words
you’ve written on my hands
for me to see
and remember,
with this book
I am never alone.

EJZ 05.09.2015

Haikus of 2015

Here are some haikus I wrote 2015 strung together into a multi-ku.

Love creates all things;
The tips of fingers, filling
the space between time.

Early June evening –
Summer heat graces my cheek
with beads of sweat

I’m trying to find
a reason to love you but
you just really suck.

Drunk people are not
patient, especially when
waiting for pastries.

Wine-bottle window –
Seems better than looking through
Rose-colored glasses

Justice is best served
with a glass of sangria
and ironic prose

I’m remembering.
How difficult it is, but
worth remembering.

I am in distress
but not your fucking damsel –
Princess saved herself

I’m tired of fighting.
I’m resigning my army.
Take the guilt with you.

The grass grows up to
meet my nose and fill it with
freshly watered scent

I’ve loved you before.
I will love you tomorrow.
I love you today.

EJZ

Evening Meditation

The laughter of brook
scrambling over brambles
through the brush of wood in morning –
Cool to touch,
wet,
still,
with dew and dark,
blinking at the sun

As fingertips run over,
it does not splinter.

Its bare flesh against the winter pale
blinding in the dawn-light
Pristine at sunrise
Innocence still kept
harbored in its hollows

I can smell you,
dare not press you to my lips,
a whisper stead of kiss,
a promise –

Wait
’til springtime,
Keep me tender
’til summer heat will dry your skin
and crisp beneath the autumn wither
when Earth takes back
her endless minutes,
slowly
fading
and silence
fills the winter air
with just
the sound of laughter

EJZ 10.14.2015

Water washes coin to sea
down leg, drips patient
tracing lines
longing for fingertip kisses
and time wasted,
enjoyed
is not wasted time.

Ask me about what I left behind.

I can taste your voice,
cool breath sighing to sleep.
Sing one more time so I can remember
danger in your eyes, begging,
first step in leap of faith over sky
knowing no motion but flo
at
no question but why
not
now?
Time wasted, enjoyed,
is not wasted time.

EJZ 08.03.2015

Essence

Five Haiku

IMG_20140507_104406

Cool mist lagoon
Traipsing stone and flower bud
Daffodil laughter

Length of fingertips
I could reach out and touch God
If I wanted heaven

I would just stop here
Press lips against cheek, drip down
Sweat leaving outline

Connecting the dots
Past to present to pleasure
Leaving me misty

Look, we missed lagoon
Exchanging telepathic
Did we create it?

In essence, it’s ours
Lost hearts promise innocence
Let’s waste some more time

EJZ 08.13.2015

On Serenity

You asked me how to describe this scene,
twinkling candlelight salted sea
we found later on
skin on skin,
harmonic floating
was just as serene as the moon,
blue and full
(not up for debate this time).

How often does this happen?
Two souls meet –
serendipity –
and the moon stays full for nights on endless end?
You told me,
“The moon is always full –
we just don’t always
see it that way”.

So what does that mean for our souls?
Are they tandem swimming
but we don’t always feel them
until we see it happen and
when we do, is it just
serene as the moon
because now we remember what full means?

EJZ 08.04.2015

Sea Poem IV

image001

I lie here, still,
in the sand
and am washed over
by thoughts of your touch.

I feel the ocean move toward me
Hear it, longing to enter the depths of my heart,
my body
my soul.

I see your face in the salt of the sea.

You move close enough to tickle my feet
and tease me with an ebb and flow of your tide.

Consume me in waters,
my restless one,
my sea-struck song,
my uncrossed bridge.

I long to taste you on my lips
and be washed away
by the crashing sounds of your love
and my bliss.

When you look with the depths of your dark ocean eyes,
you’ll find me,
waiting,
still,
in the sand.

EJZ 05.04.2015

*Photo by Laura Farrell

Love Poem for my Piano

I long to feel you under my fingertips.

Oh how long it’s been
since I stroked sweet music from your keys ,

your pearly whites
and ebonies
swirling together under my hands,
the feeling seething through my veins
and into you.

You echo back in harmony
and we dance this symphony together,

trading secrets surrounded by the scent of auburn timber.

A love affair of eighty-eight hammers and strings
and ten fingertips caressing
smooth figures and souls
to blend melody and rhythm with time.

Oh for even just ten minutes,
to feel you beneath me,
I wouldn’t mind
ever-lasting orgastic connection between a spirit meeting its being
in the rapture, the
music made
with its soulmate.

EJZ 04.22.2015

Seduction

I want your hand on mine,
fingers softly stroking between the lines left bare and open,
running down and lightly grabbing,
holding me as your own.

I want your arms around my waist,
asking with laughter
for me to become a part of you.

I want to feel your lips brush against my skin
and paint me with touch.

I want to feel you sing on my body,
moving it to tremble and shake.

I want your palms, on my breasts
to caress,
to grip and reveal
the heart beneath them,

to control the core of my being
as I surrender to the power of your touch.

I want the pressure of your soul to crack my exterior,
the shell I’ve created in my stead.

I have an emptiness within me only you can fill.

Fill me
Fill me
Fill me with the warmth
of the character I left behind
on pages crumpled in the dust,
hidden among the leaves,
faded by falling rain and
buried beneath snow.

Do to me what springtime does to flower bulbs,
what hummingbirds do to the breeze.

EJZ 05.20.2015

 

[And lest we forget a haiku by the same name:
Come inside of me.
Please,  I want you in my mouth.
I love you, bacon.]