Spirit's kiss

When late evening's breadth lays you in its wake
And sparkling summer stream stagnates in a lake,
silence, in a blanket roasts the air
thoughts, like paper, scratch and tear
My soul is stretched to breaking.
My madness is awak'ing
Like a cyclops, plodding, from a cave
Or Medusa screaming from her grave...
or a bad poem written upon a receipt
for last week's bread and tomorrow's meat.
At night, natural hands knock upon my door
While clouds toss and turn and drift no more,
toward sunsets, hopes and sweet embraces
My Guest is fair, with many faces,
She brings both love and death
I'll taste them both upon her breath