Monday, November 30, 2015

on waiting ...

before the blue-glass wall of you
unrecognizable i become
perched upon a walnut branch
deemed muse
magician by your tongue, by your hand....
let's talk about your hands for a minute, shall we?
how they are all i see when i close my eyes
strong, oak-molasses thick
i shall miss them most of all
as i have grown weary of waiting
gather all my perched watchful minutes--
alchemy them into ten thousand sparrows
for a thousand years i have waited for you to see me here
waiting behind the glass
watching stars, dust & shadows shift
to dance, to alight, to spark, to fuck, to collide ...

snow falls heavy today ... and i will fly away from the blue-glass wall

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Friday, November 27, 2015

wrapped ,,,,

you tease me with your need, apples & emptiness
... struggling to hardwire
lounging in yellow silk boxers against
your fathers blueprint, aging without remorse or awareness.
i hate football
and struggle to understand my fragility
what is it that binds & stretches to accommodate our twisted, wounded selves
acceptance comes with the cost of
a kiss tasting of popcorn & fresh red peppers
a blizzard whorls beyond our walls ....
and if you would open just long enough, i would fall
into blue eyes 14 thousand feet deep
and rich with wisdom & words and muscles hard & willing ,,,,
our bones are old & know chasms of mirth & merit
replete with lovers, summers & wine ...
why the goodbye... why walls of blue-glass brick ....
only to find the hole again ...
altars of divine care & memory to what was & what could be ...
sparked by flannel warmth & distance spanned by
ultimately love ....
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Saturday, November 21, 2015


the cut of sorrow lies endless
azure tempered to the tilt of the sun
as it illuminates
grains & gravity
nothing is permanent
nothing is permanent
say it loud and forever long
the salt taste stills with water
water bright upon tongues too weary to speak of color
holding to songs rising , orange blooming in the west
love flowing unbridled by the tight harnessed tempest
yesterday's news
reborn in the soft turning of leaves
aureolin to gold to carmine to gone          
daylight tempts expectation
kinder tide
a gentle nudge to dreams of
thursdays and cellos
pushing past the simple friction of time & breath
to wrap oneself in the depths of
moonlight, melody
to remember 
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of nearly twilight

putting down the colored pencil
she took up the
cotton sock to darn a thousand years ago .... thread
falling between fingers alight
eager crisp persimmon possibility poured out of her folded
enfolded borrowed and stolen
she became the one holding the sock
the one holding the red thread
tendering the hole
counting the minutes until his return
forgetting the colored pencil
forgetting the open trees open sky smells of pine promise
pick up the saffron salmon pink
color this twilight
wait no more

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Monday, November 16, 2015

buffalo plaid

that dream again;
cowboy bonfires
under novemeber moon's lament
laced & lingered
twisting to tumbleweeds
sweep me into the ash of hope
soothe the whimper of winds cold cold
touch the wool wet from promised snow
I curl into the smoke from your dreams
always dancing to the song of stars

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2 / shoulder / transitive verb : to push or thrust, to place or bear, to assume the burden

place it here -
the weight of your saffron-ivory sorrow
upon women's bones made dense by the fire & ice of the turning
flight is made difficult by the threads of compassions justice
counter-balance to the tendered taste of
sprouting earth & azure sky burning
structure is footed in the quartz of days
rooted to the voice of you
omnipotent gods busy with hypocrisy & darkness
can't but fail to notice the buzzing of
springs reluctance to come
show herself raw & willing to
and open once again  . . .

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Friday, November 13, 2015

winter birds

the dismantled song of rusted broken things
standing solitary amidst the canary corn
bent, leaned and listening
to songs overhead
use swallowed by weather and worry
linger there awhile ...
until the November sun gleams
a bursting golden metallic promise
furrows of love
songs of birds
winter whispers such sweet undoing 
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