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Vistas of Love

When I imagine my iconic vistas of love,
I watch a sunset
red and yellow,
purple and pink,
bruised lavendar and darkening grey
until pointing jagged mountain peaks
turn to black understoried landscape
plunging against gravity
toward slowly emerging sea
of glittering stars
strobeless yet twinkling pinpoints
of light’s long poignant memories.

When I imagine this vista
I also see
through my velvet brown-skinned manchild’s deep autumnal eyes
starting back and forth,
side to side,
without capacity or need for language
to absorb Earth’s dusky light and pine-soaked scent
turning up toward dancing brights,
’til dawn’s epiphany of grey,
then nearly violent, love.

When I imagine iconic eros vistas
and feel internal agape
conjoining philos,
appearing nowhere
except together,
like Yang strong bright
and Yin flow night.

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