Monday, October 12, 2015

the smell of leaves burning

Can a hole become art ?
to become not a hole, but something transformed
full & complete ?
refashioned with found objects; that silver monopoly dog,
blue bandanas, the sharp cut of sorrow,
cornfields & meadowlarked loss
autumn hued & weaved with blood-orange thread
to shuttered gasps & ooo's of admiration
can a hole be not a hole
patched with time & tender & song to mend it's fibrous fragility
looming itself into Indian sunset ribbons of amber richness
who am I to love so well, yet so wrong ?
but not wrong
more like that hole
strangely, ironically
the startling realization that it has shifted
quickened & sharp
the forecasted boulder snow
self lies in the punched surrender to the puppet masters demand
listening & dancing to the bubbled needs of others
steadfastly refusing to howl at the moon & shine a light into the need
rake the leaves reverently into the
revolution is where ?
in the crumpled pages of secret whispers & timeless sureness
in the ability to recognize strength in weakness
and in the turquoise gleam of happy hanging in a thiefed reel
fighting for a heart-path is a wicked & quixotic endeavor
tempered by the accepted - righteous is not always so
loneliness carves it's own mask
as the struggle & pull of need creates red
welcome the rhythm of this night in
bits of story & stars
dance & celebrate the patched hole
gather up copper, bronze & scarlet-dragon leaves
fire it up
trust it's light
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Saturday, October 10, 2015

moonlight and the bees-knees

The day regret aligns with Mars
-- just an ordinary day;
the breeze from the west comes to unbuckle my heart
arrowing fiercely straight on through the dark
Alight in the wash of a tangerine sunrise
ripe with the harvest of fall
the sound of quiet is nothing if not ancient
the breeze in the maple tells all
No birds on this Saturday morning
no blue jay stealing my toast
just a tale and a ache a thousand years deep
and a flame that burns brighter than most
So untangle the honeysuckle nectar
smooth out the lines of regret
darkness brings the solace of moonlight
the tale is not over yet ....

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Wednesday, October 7, 2015

the space between

in the swollen space between crickets and cooling
comes the moment
of crystal presence
briefly glimpsed
we catch the flick of it's vanishing tail
like some humminbird-comet darting across the dome of day
then gone ...
such beautiful quiet 
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Monday, October 5, 2015

the edge of things ...

distance becomes blue 
seeping to bones of linen lost 
prism pressed in equations
exponentially greater than the speed of light
particles fractured into a thousand spinning suns 
ringing with the vibrations of whiskey & wait 
blue + linen becomes a softer blue 
content with the sun
these scattered dust motes 
of the far far away ... 

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hand print

objects have always emanated a particle presence :
warm to cool 
porcelain cup to weave of linen
hands that trace the curve of a wall 
wood & weather 
the rusted thin wires of a birdcage 
counters cracked with age and baking as 
heat & time 
wraps & welds 
fingertips roll across the corners of books 
dusty with captain kangaroo morning stillness 
tick tock tick tock 
the air we breathe
secrets locked ….
hold …

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0 degrees ( deux )

Mercury in retrograde
drained of everything but elementary desires
.... eat
drink me ...
my smallness intrigues me.
i am invisible
orphaned from the moon and you ....
untethered and unbalanced
drink ....
searching for definition
ANY definition !!
against the yellowed october leaves
of the
curly willow outside my glass walls ...
outside the definition of me
is it cold ? is it past ? are we there yet ?
this vacant inability to feel .
Mercury at 0 degrees .
pierce this numbness ; pull me closer ...
fill in the void with colored pencils, indigo and the scent of pumpkin ...
bounce me back to Jupiter
and the hope and
pinch of something true ....

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Saturday, October 3, 2015


spiny burr
clustered on the branch
tufted husk of pale armor
guarding the cream inner upholstered flesh
smooth softness
grooves adhered tight to pellicle
gentle pressure popping free
one, two, three
sweet fruits to hold
umber rich revealed
seed to ripeness
outside to in
spine to furrow
hard to smooth
captive youth

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