Poems of Sweat from the Tropical Eye by Barry Stepe

Hope

2010-08-31T17:13:00.000-07:00

Seeing or no seeing / the orange tree blossoms / regardless

2008-08-10T09:52:00.001-07:00

The Morning After

The earth remains

spinning on its axis

and I am alone,

unmoved by this.

The stains on my sheets

are worth more than words.

Your glass of wine

Half empty.

2008-08-09T13:38:00.001-07:00

Un Beso Del Fuego

Walking softly through the streets of reflection,

I find you everywhere

like the noonday sun

that squeezes itself

into every dusty, darkened corner,

bathing everything in glorious light.

I taste you

in the fleshy fruit of the guayaba

that melts as slowly

as your kisses

in my mouth –

your eyes that explode in sunlight,

your humid, fluid voice,

the soft oceanic touch of your fingertips.

2008-08-09T13:36:00.000-07:00

Only In Your Eyes

Your eyes are fragile enough

to catch heaven half undressed,

blessed with the scent of sugar cane,

your body melts around mine

as quickly as sea spray

glazing sweaty rocks.

What music could capture

our own mysterious melody

that drops like rain

and shines as powerful

as the green surrounding us now?

Our lips meet violently

in ferocious waves

and your frantic kisses

burn skin like the heat

reflected in the eye

of the tropic sun.

As I throw myself to your parting shores,

my soul rests in you

as confident as the lone sea bird

returning from blue wonders

of oceanic depth.

2008-08-09T13:35:00.000-07:00

Mother’s Day

The night slowly closes its eyes

and dreams only of the moon

and forgets the sun

that gave it life.

2008-08-09T13:33:00.000-07:00

The Sun in a Wheelchair

I went to a nursing home to visit her.

Once the pride of the summer sky,

now collapsed in a heap of formless fire.

Body barely contained in a wheelchair,

flames of fire slipping down the spine of her chair,

catching fire to her orthopedic shoes.

She gripped my hand whispered that she was tired.

“I want you to forget me,” she said,

“go tell the rest of the world that I sleep.”

Knowing her words were poison,

I ran to the mountain

and spat venomous joy at the foot of her fountain.

“The sun is dying!” I screamed to no-one

and quickly ran away to join in the false security

of the rest of the land.

My voice buried in the crags of the mountain.

Speech robbed from the sweat of the sun.

I no longer live to speak.

My words a gurgle of thought in the throat.

And now as I lie

under the pregnant rind of the summer moon,

life shuts her shallow eyes,

closes her curtains

and I wink! Goodbye!

2008-08-09T13:32:00.001-07:00

Eyes of Chance

I am waiting

waiting with bulging eyes

that want to devour the human race

to drive my dagger deep

into the eyes of chance.

Her eyes once met mine

and were sealed in a solid bond of trust.

The crystallization of the world

Revealed in those sweet eyes

Left me blushing

In the floodlights of her gaze.

Naturally,

her kisses soon flew

from the balcony

on the crowds below

as they marched on

confident pigeons

on nameless streets

glazed with rain.

With one eye relaxed on the window,

the other fixed on the door,

I am still waiting…

waiting to drive my dagger deep

into the eyes of chance.

2008-08-09T13:30:00.000-07:00

Lost Forever

I want to get lost forever

in your tangle of jungle hair

black as the Cuban night,

soft as the clouds

that bring cool rain

to this wandering island.

Watching you glide by

carried by crisp, oceanic breezes,

the rustling of coconut leaves

flirt with your gaze

and touch with slippery, soft fingers.

Past the stark, white doorways

where the beat of merengue

tickles your ears

with sensual pulsations

and tempts your papaya red lips

to bloom into

an incredibly contagious smile.

To the coast,

where the sea motions you forward

with foamy white kisses

to a liquefied passionate embrace.

I will stay with you

until the sunset dips itself

into the mouth of the red waters

and I can no longer see your features,

your scent washed away, foreign.

2008-08-09T13:28:00.000-07:00

Rain

In my struggle to find a feast of fire

beneath the hazy smog of city flowers,

I found a voice

floating on wings of the wind,

thrusting itself into my throat

it captured the strings

and played with the pitch of my cries

as effortlessly as a toy.

Her memory clings relentlessly

like marrow to the bones.

We both shared the same pair of eyes,

the same lusty blood

pumping through our veins.

When she left,

the sun darted behind secure clouds of blindness

and the thundering rain

returned again to play.

But now and then,

I catch a view of her features

scattered across the mirror

or a note from her discovered,

hidden, forgotten

or a woman’s soft voice

that reminds me of her

and the sun skips through the wind

and extends its surgical rays,

the rainwaters vapor up

and the once forgotten memories

still remain.

2008-08-09T13:26:00.001-07:00

Los Peces

My blood swells with the rhythm of your song.

Sweet, flowing spanish words

dancing and swirling in my head.

I become drunk with language

as each word spoken

is a wet kiss to the ear.

Your words invade

like a moist tongue

thrust deep inside

causing my words in English

to slide out

impossible to hold

slippery fish.

Nothing By Barry Stepe

2008-08-09T13:21:00.000-07:00

Nothing

Nothing touches your skin of sweat

(meltdown of oceanic kisses)

when the purple light

whispers to the moon

in silent, moonlit clarity.

Nothing touches the bronze of your neck

even the storm clouds kneel down

and kiss the halos

circling your ten toes

of red rosaries.

But the sun still glares at your skin,

always looking but never touching.

You have nothing

and everything surrounds you.

Voices in the mountains,

rice in the valleys.

Grapes of Sensuality By Barry Stepe

2008-08-09T13:13:00.000-07:00

Grapes of Sensuality

Your skin of sweaty seduction

stirs up the night

with the delicious fragrance

of ripe juices,

the sun burning in your eyes,

I lying deep inside you

with the lemon sky hung over us

in tender embrace.

You, my love,

who causes earthquakes across the world

to sporadically open up,

hoping to catch your sweet body

in teeth of jagged earth.

I kiss the grapes of sensuality

hidden in your mouth

as your warm hands stroke my body

as calm as the sea foam

caresses the brittle sand,

waves of pleasure crashing

against my thighs.

Like the wild rhythms of a salsa,

you take control of the pulse of my heart

Driven into excess

and molded by your flowering hair.

I will die clutching to your body

as the Christians to the cross.

Your hands of wheat,

eyes of plum,

and hair of crystal golden dawn.

Our Last Breath By Barry Stepe

2008-08-09T13:07:00.000-07:00

Our Last Breath

My arms cry out to grasp you

like two towering coconut palms

stretched towards the blazing sun,

because you are an unspoiled island

floating independently as we walk

mano en mano

among the bodies of the crowd

who circle your beauty

inhaling your warmth, joy

and the scent de las frutas

of endless desire.

Your whispers of love

tremble, vibrating

towards the beating drums

of my hungry ears.

Your eyes light up las calles

like two volcanic candles.

Clenched in absorbing embrace,

we listen to the crashing

of distant waves,

breathe in the humidity

of our own bodies

crashing against each other

and forget ourselves

in jungles of tropical green.