The Chalice Harem

by Tehya Sky


Twinkling chalices brimming with
the full spectrum of a french kiss
bow to your hungry lips,
undress in your mouth, (drip
golden through your mmmmm),

teeter at the crest of all that you know
to be true,

’til you’re fastened to
remembrance, nothing more
but a star.

The Dervish

by Tehya Sky


the invisible within my chest is
open canyon, blown wide by the
meteor of your love, and where there
were both of us i now dance alone,
sufi whirling silken scarves about my

pushing weight upon my toes
as the movement takes over, looking to the sky
sun kissed and emptied,
filled to the brim by a grace
immaculate, ablaze, precise.

frightened to the point of
radiant absolution that there could ever
be anything else than all of this.

horrified to the point of dissolution,
to the point of realizing this as love.

the memory of your kisses hits me like
moonlight, teases itself upon my lips,
dashes this gorgeous, cratered space with the soft
sandstorm of mystery and here i am,

dancing alone in this round valley of
love unveiled, knowing the greatest parts of you
are watching on, holding me in reverence
as i pirouette and fly,

and die.

The Three Day Man

by Tehya Sky


you are the three day man,
appearing at this red door after
years of traversing all of space inside out,
arriving pure and easy with the next
breath of air and not leaving my side
for three days.

you are the three day man,
our kisses found each other straightaway
and melted into their own sort of something
by sunrise day two, and with each inch and bristle of the
paintbrush they became followed awakenings
of colored sounds from some other life, so long ago.

you are the three day man
and our hearts are wings of
untold feathers of chromatic,
harmonious magic, one big wing speciously
of two, speciously of trillions.

within the feather is the wing and within
the wing is the feather. together we jumped off
so many cliffs in these three days and in this
mystery spell of life the more i lose myself,
the more i find.

you are the three day man.

we know the form is irrelevant and
we know the tools of art we share are
everlasting and now i tell you in words
all we needed were these three days.

the painting made and complete and the
three feathers awoken in their entirety
to the life they are, stretching the wings
further open, letting the falls turn to flight,
letting the heart be the only thing it ever was,
open wings made to soar.

and we didn’t need forever in the way most
people understand the word,
because we had forever and this is already forever.

and you will soon know the clear language
of the wind, i have no doubt.

you are the three day man.

The Cantadora

by Tehya Sky


The church bells of my throat,
what of them? Of the way this
gusty love breathes out my fluid heart,
through my willing body, billows,
sounds them off in silence
while I share these luscious truths
with you.

And the quiet wind chimes
nestle their flirtatious rapture into
each whispered syllable. And the
birds and their angel wings. And your
lips, the beatific cantadora who is
weaving these moccasins.

And your face.

Eagle Wisdom

by Tehya Sky

Ever the wishing well, said the cat
to the dog, ever the doe-eyed kiss
monster, won’t you look at the red
robin up in the tree and stop looking at

But you, began the dog, you exude
a coniferous charm I’ve only ever seen
before in the moon, and she is far too far away for
me, or so it seems, or at least I’m not her
kinda guy.

Both of you, said the robin,
both of you sing songs of tapered dreams,
eyes quietly nestled in the wax of the soul.
Remember the wick, the heart’s bible therein.


You speak like the wind, murmured the cat,
while the dog, dumbstruck and silent,
moved a paw to her back.

You are the heart of the eagle, not
a different bird, it is so?

Dreambags & Violins

by Tehya Sky


day five hundred and nine.
dreambags and violins fly
together in a Z, scathe scraps of
crying sky; turn it to juice.
four days prior you were meat, eyes
epic stones of churning erotica unblinking,
steaming permission of the heart.
my legs inhaled, faltered like
baby deer, regrouped like woman.
deep in the potency of the jungle,
contained in that puissant silence,
around the sort of fire that protects
no one but Nirvana, open heart,
maybe John Lennon. day five hundred and nine,
within eight fractions of what you
call a “second,” atoms of crying sky
turn from sweat to chocolate milk
to soured daiquiri before that sweet
and systemic rasa. and our bellies,
(bless them), drink, bathe, savor, they
save none for the News.

Admissions, Gauzy

by Tehya Sky



crack me open.
my heart has burned a
hole through my back.
it’s the best day of my life.


crack me open.
i feel so alive, i
can’t take it.
my heart has burned a
hole through my back.
it’s the best day of my life,

Avocado Season

by Tehya Sky


tearing through shades
of feeling faster than a
speeding bullet, more
powerful than a locomotive,
able to leap tall buildings in
a single bound

tearing through shades of
feeling decades of minute by
decades of minute, day in and
day out, week in and week out,
avocado season in,
avocado season out,

tearing through shades of feeling like
a heart in a cocaine riddle: cavorting through
palatial this, palatial that, polarized this,
idolized that, breath for shining breath,
sea to shining sea,
buzzing about this fecund forest of drama of
monkey brains of fingerless beggars, of spineless kings,
toothless queens, of providence of providence!,
of divine providence while the

baby cries with fever alone and supine on
the steps, fists in air, boxing,
faith already beveled why why why
a toucan sings where’s the curtain call where’s the river?

the frog, idiot savant, sits nearby,
silent on a wooden log,