Friday, December 5, 2014

to sail . . .













Winken, Blynken and Nod one night
set sail in a cashmere boat
with oars made of pearls
and a peppermint hull
and a captain in a turquoise coat
the moon rose up
and captured the night
as the sails billowed & filled
carrying the ship
across the sea
under stars from a diamond-quartz mill
an opal deck stretched fore & aft
rainbowing under full-moon
with masts of ebony
reaching up to the night
as the dish whirled about with the spoon
upon the deck
glowed a golden chest
with swirls of amber paisley
a latch made of porcelain
a handle of mint
with buckles of snow-drop daisies
it opened right up
with a will of it's own
and there on a bergamot bed
nestled amongst deep-scarlet silk
was a clock with a dragon's head
a clock of the finest silver
knotted in the finest weave
tic-tocking & churning on wheels & cogs
tiny hands of an amethyst vive
the wee dragon's head
shimmered & shone
with scales of deep forest green
it's eyes were of snow, with lashes of gold
the most mischievous smile ere' seen
then the dragon peered out of it's nest of silk
and yawned with might & sleep
the eyes did blink
the nostrils flared
with his wings unfurled he did sweep
out from the clockworks !!
out from the chest !!
the wings spread 30 feet wide
fluttered & moved
with grace & aplomb
until he shifted the ocean's tide
waves rolled up
over stem & stern
the peppermint hull they pounded
shuttering - shaking with fury & force
as they captain stood there astounded . .
" hang on me maties, hang on me friends
and bring those sails quick down
batten them up & 'don your coat
and pray we all don't drown "
winken, blynken & nod set to work
'astrapping the sails down tight
as the dragon beat his broad, gorgeous wings
raising the ship to moonlight . . .
the vessel set sail upon currents of wind
as the dragon his wings he did fold
he lowered his head,
one small puff he then blew
this quest was long foretold . .
of a ship, crew of four, a night & a song
and a dragon born of stars
to set off on a journey to circle the world
to learn the secrets of Mars
the crew did relax with a sigh of content
as the ship balanced & sped
the dragon at rest on his bed of silk
story born from twilight's thread
winken, blynken & nod set out
humming a broadway tune
captain of turquiose at the helm
as a cow jumped over the moon . . .
the ship flew into deepest night
for coasts & planets unknown
as the crew peered up 'ore the starboard side
and the stars their pleasure shone
the clockwork-dragon rests peacefully
curled up in it's quiet, soft space
breathing & dreaming of far off delights
and the piece that fills a hollow place . .
a compass for travel
a compass to roam
a dragon of tic-tocking gifts
who appeared one day at a quater to May
always able to compass you home . .
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looking out ...


I was born awake in moonlight
upon the sill
of
a bedroom window in December 
poised & still 
listening to the breath of stars 

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Thursday, November 20, 2014

eclipse into me


you
are why I sleep
you are why I sleep
rolled upon the blue
oh you are why I sleep

floral boots upon the floor
sun seeks corners more
choice bred of wired wait
time stands still and takes me away. .

pursuit
journeyed water falls
tempest of storms thundered call
secrets lie in waters white
as we run across the stars at night

time furrows story-lines wide
dreams take us close beside
warmth comes to those who seek
you are why I sleep
oh . . .
you are why I sleep
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Thursday, November 6, 2014

the bittersweet notion


bare feet to gray concrete
motionless upon the sidewalk 
I stand 
waiting 
on 
this
November morning 
outlines defined 
by the slight tremble of 
yellow leaves remaining upon somnolent trees 
waiting ....
in this startingly-crisp-spot-of-sun-upon-gray 
I can no longer remember for what ....
but I can imagine 
the who 

come find me 

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Wednesday, November 5, 2014

white noise of an afternoon


perhaps it is the fly buzzing in the next room
against the dimpled glass
or
the echoing
buzz of the speedway 3.7 miles to the south
undercurrent becomes the undertow
distraction to pause;
pause in the paisley steps of the day
pause in the presence of breaths
pause in the wonder of gravity
lucky is the lost
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morning

seems I awoke on the left side of lonely
lines pressed to dreams folded tight
to respite's black night 
discarded wool socks hold shed traces of hope 
there against scuffed floorboards
painted in shades of spring-green 
once put on ...
expectancy warms a good 20 degrees 
rising this morning 
....  to the left of lonely



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Tuesday, November 4, 2014

11-4-14

most days I ignore it
shrug it off 
remain wrapped in detached presence
able to push it back into the darkened corners :
that veiled punch to the southern cross
that leaves me smiling in some slightly wistful electric want
of all things hungry & driven
most days . . .
today
and I am fully aware that you are indeed no ghost pressed against my back
flicking open that spark
fully aware
and yet . . .
you are this golden reflection today
grabbing my attention & hurtling me into "going there"
causing my too feel beyond the borders of my skin
grasping that haunting shadow & submitting to
the golden weight of you
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