Saturday, August 13, 2016

pieces of June stirring . .

Take :
The shattered right femur of a girl
and add to that a green wool beret,
funny pages from the sunday paper, scrambled eggs, and paper dolls ...
the taste of snow on your tongue,
rosary beads of tulsi kapoor, a velvet Elvis painting,
and your tucked away watercolor.
Then add rain,
rain :
the sound of rain and the smell of rain.
Add heaps & heaps of
Dr. Zhivago snow : sparkling-blue-sequined-in-the-moonlight-snow
high-altitude-earth, horse-stable-earth.
Plus rainbow trout, apples & New Orleans.
Finally stir in the flume of diesel & cigar smoke on a London street
and the bite of whiskey & jazz
along with the opalescent thrumming of a hummingbird.
Slice it smoothly deep & narrow - during the shine of this blue-green corn moon
... threaded with indigo & owl tears.
Thunder rumbles & rolls
Rain comes ...
Once long ago, I rode with my mother
as we searched for autumn leaves down a tree-lined country road.
I wore a purple coat
and my mother was so very present & the leaves were the color of her heart :
soft deer-brown, crimson with the lightest orange
When do we know that we are the same ? That we will yearn & bleed ?
When is the sky more blue than ever before and how often is a lifetime traversed
in a kiss ?
Surrender lies there
where skin meets the sun
and the day's fresh mown grass melts into evening's cool cotton sheets.
Sureness shines in your dark eyes and
forgiveness is found in the pause between seasons
in the heaviness of our bones.
Love is all.
And I will wake & i will remember
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Thursday, August 4, 2016


use to
have to

trim & fold
tiny pieces of fabric
press hold mold
moved from mind to page
and back again

white on white

boiling rising unfurling
in waterfall torrents
to tame
that wild
hollow marigold
where does she reside on the quiet days?
... the unanswered days?
where is the spark of divinity's calling?
in what corner does she rest?
on what branch does she lay stretched to sun & gods gravity?

i will be surprised.

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Monday, August 1, 2016

come with me ...

we scramble most days
to attach our wings of weighted feathers:
glistening violet under the sun
not awake, not yet asleep
somewhere in-between
dazed by days unremarkable
dumbstruck by the outline of the others rich & carouseled
how we stand in the in-between with love & grace is the test
how we shoulder those warrior feathers
in spite of
because of
tempest & frost
wind, welter & stillness
hush little baby don't you cry 
we rise
most days to vastness
to find our solace in midnight's

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Sunday, July 31, 2016

requiem #845

if today my spark should cease
these motes of movement settle
then i would leave upon this blue
my fractal fists of being
small parcels of crimson-saffron
to nudge against your shinbones in summer's sky
echoing with the pulse of fireflies

if today my willing should dim
this gypsy contradance to gentle
find me tucked against the wild iris
at nine thousand three hundred and five feet
riding the sound of water over stones over mountain
as pine sharp sticks to tongue
arms wide open to sun

if today all blaze & briar rests
this blood smoothes to heart's rebel
yearning shadows the cottaged cage
of fragility's equation written
as comets flicker to remind
the tender weight of the honeysuckle
... will be all that you can find

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Friday, July 29, 2016


paced precision
bangs that need cutting
clothes too baggy
skin saggy
what do we measure?
when do we care     enough
to braid that crimson thread
hitch a ride on a blackbird bed
pluck the feathers from skin pink from solitude
unraveling the tempest
touching love's conquest
love's conquest?
ah! AH! more likely a draw, a tie, a balanced coin
no triumph, no parade today
just simple breath drawing
heart thawing
under the haze & heat of this July sun

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Thursday, July 21, 2016

48% ... pressure @ 29.98" ✑

to rest astride the hope
not fix
not decide
allow the collide

the gray to blue to green
common hours separate the pulse
waking to want to wait
licorice root & peppermint tea
beneath blue sky & gamma rays
hope shimmers in the trail of luna moths

allow the rise

the rest
is found

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Wednesday, July 20, 2016

100ยบ at nine twenty-five

cicadas sing  
bone rubbed against dreams flutter
heat rising from soil
pressed between green plains
waves of light and shadows long
cicadas song
wings folded to twilight's azure
night deepens
allowing the violet to come 
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