The Moments Between

September 25, 2010

” The cave you fear to enter holds the treasure you seek. ”
-Joseph Campbell

My Dearest Love,

I cannot lie.
I’ve raced through my life
as I’ve had through a novel,
anxious for its sweet ending.
Mad sprints through the tall
grasses,
heaving lungs, arms
thrusted
through the thinned atmosphere
to touch the light of sacred
stars
in the indigo night.
This is how I breathed you.

I’ve traced your face in the
air with my fingers
across knowing
fields
and waking mountains,
felt it real as the
scripture of trees,
the living water
and the days of March
you wore in your eyes.
This is how I lived you.

Yet, what we know,
what we know the world does not,
is not the brilliance of
dreams
in distant universes.
The freedom we seek,
the love we’ve found,
is in uncovering
the infinite beauty
that lies
in the moments
between the seconds
of our life.

This is how we love.

Copyright (c) 2010 Paul Matsumoto. All Rights Reserved
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We Stilled The Hours

July 3, 2010

I want to tell you my stories
whispered secret into your ear,
and feel your struggling lips go soft
with our conspiracy.

I want our eyes to
dance past the cynics
(who have bet their forgotten
innocence against us),
and peer beyond this anxious world of
toothless fear
and swallow deeply
outward
all
space
completely until

we feel
our lungs rise as the tides
and its singular pull
with the heroic moonlight
throbbing in my heart

as we found home

and stilled
the hours.

Copyright (c) 2010 Paul Matsumoto. All Rights Reserved
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Resuscitation

May 29, 2010

Resuscitation

I fell from the sky
hard

Mouth to mouth,
you kissed my mouth open.

Life screamed back
into my lungs,
through my vessels
from within my heart.

My eyes opened
to no one there.
Who were you?
Where did you go?
The unseen hand
laughed openly
with what twist of plot?

Am I coming home
to a place I’ve
never been?
Were your comforting words
during our trips
to the sun
dreamed into a unsung
mind?

I will fly again.

I will fly
as the match head
struck alit
starved for oxygen.
searching madly.
to find this tender soul
who came back to me
under the fragile sky.

And should my wax
wings melt
before
our arms shall wrap
our spirits again,
pray that I
may quickly unclutch
to the
unforgiving
winds
the
scribbled note:

“In case of
Emergency,
please do

not
resuscitate”.

Copyright (c) 2010 Paul Matsumoto. All Rights Reserved
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You Were Gold

April 24, 2010

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You were gold
I was silver

We drank moonlight
from rooftops
in drunken glee
and kissed with
the taste of promise
We were

light chasing light
over evening wave tips
I’ve inhaled your sky
and sand and water as

I walked into your ocean
and failed to walk out.

Copyright (c) 2010 Paul Matsumoto. All Rights Reserved.
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Let Us Go Then

April 4, 2010

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Let us go then, you and I
and wade into the sea
where the shifting sands beneath our feet
no longer question our souls’ intent
and the swirling salt water washes
through our fragile longing
like the stars that rush
through our bodies
and disappear
toward an unknown
destination.

My fingers will always know
the details of your
spine in the small
of your back,
and the feel of your hair
my hand sifts though
and without knowing all
the colored
details of your life,
I will recite the song of your eyes
with the depth of its
wisdom.

Yet they hold so many stories
I have yet learned to read.

And want to.

Copyright (c) 2010 Paul Matsumoto. All Rights Reserved.
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In My Heart

March 14, 2010

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In the stillest moment of the evening
you fire through the aether and
the rush of chaotic atmosphere
and slide through a crack in my perimeter,
past the guards and monsters,
and with silent feet
slip under my skin,
swim up the currents of
my capillaries and vessels,
climb up the trees and
up the furthest branches
to where you will rest.

And in the morning
I will awaken
to the cathedral bells outside
and with you
in my heart.

I See You in Colors

September 19, 2009

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I am pretending you did not exist.
Ink nightly washes black
over my consciousness
and abandons me as morning seaweed
upon a foreign beach.

I am pretending we were simply
the sparkling imagination of some higher being,
our life together set below a singular epic sky
unrepeated
in future histories

I am pretending I cannot taste you
each day as I do the sea air in my breath
when I am running,
my heart tied upon one foot,
ancient melancholy tied upon the other,
anxiously racing,
madly racing through lifetimes,
to find our brightened souls.

I see you in colors that don’t exist.

It is all that I see clearly.
and why I run.

Copyright (c) 2009 Paul Matsumoto. All Rights Reserved.
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Unraveled

July 18, 2009

I lingered silent over the geography
of your spirit,
and inhaled its saffron valleys,
sunlit with lissome lilies,
as I drunk deep from its coaxing wells
of cool electricity.

I have tasted the Spring’s first blooms
in your glance and wondered
of the half life of our words
and the extraordinary struggle
of their anxious disorder.

I stopped cold with your slight
“hey mister” and all I could think was
of the fate of crowned angels
in the silvered milky way
watching over,
washing over
my desire to be lured
and unraveled
and…
did you really call me
“mister”?

We shall run away far from all
that is familiar,
toothy fear and excitement our fuel,
until the burdened chatter of others
becomes inaudible,
until all that is unspeakable
is spoken,
and our voice,
clear and charmed in its
undressed debut,
sings.

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“Love is the only rational act.”
— Rainer Maria Rilke

If we don’t breathe to speak of love
then we are wasting our breath.
If we aren’t eating to have the energy to love
then we are still hungry.
If we aren’t moving to love,
then we are moving in the wrong direction.
If our every action, movement, thought, word
does not lead to love
then we have failed as we may have before
and if we do not pick ourselves up
and love ourselves and others even more
then we have declared the ultimate
war upon humanity.
The only true war on war
is to express love
and to share it with everyone
even in the most unlikeliest of moments,
especially in the most unlikeliest of moments,
we must share love
and reach others with it,
teach it, preach it
from the rooftops,
from the mountaintops
to surround every ounce of our being with love
no matter the consequences,
past and future,
for herein lies
the present
and future
for us
all.

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On This Splendid Day

July 4, 2009

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As if blown over hot embers
a drowsy wind blew soulless
over the zoo that lined the Boulevard.
There was no redemption
found for those on the 181
as it jerked toward its destiny.

Highland. Vine. Western.
The bus lurched forward,
its captives silent with a lifetime of
guilt and indignity,
their endless untold stories
already forgotten.

In Little Armenia an elderly man
boarded in his Sunday best.
No one noticed the music
that twinkled unashamedly
from his eyes.
Vermont. Los Feliz. Central.

At the Galleria,
I stared out from the bus,
now in disrepair and half emptied,
at the old man
meeting
his loved one,
their imperfect bodies
suddenly perfect,
their arms wrapped around each other
like silk ribbons around a gift,
as they kissed
and kissed,
and kissed for what seemed like
an infinity of moments,
each moment intense and delicate,
soft and unbroken,
with an urgency deep with patience,
I watched
as others soon did

and I soon
discovered too,
unashamedly,
on this splendid day,
how
the broken song
can find its notes
and live
forever.

Poetry copyright (c) 2009 Paul Matsumoto. All rights reserved.
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