solstice

larked skipped
purple thistle blade
grass sworn
soil rain lemonade

tangerine pillows
pierced pony neigh
white bark swallow
thunder star-way

loves felted walnut
sweet cherry song
snow echoes holding
suns waiting arms 

out of the east it comes . . .(sounding like a rolling deep quiet--or a meadowlark)

There is a certain summer wind

that blows in

Nebraska 

balm of river & prairie  

sun rewinding self to young 

a summer wind

of 

rolled-down 

windows & strawberry boone’s farm wine 

midnight drives 

and

bike rides
high as 

fireflies 

legion ball & copper-tone sun on the wall 

deep purple nights driving the ones 

crickets 

shallow river

sandbars & love 

so much held in this certain summer wind 

   

waxing-crescent-in-leo-moon

evening falls

carrying upon it the barest chill & trace bird song

oh fleeting dusk! 

removes us from the coarse narrow existence of our day 

allow us to 

breathe

breathe

as the chill settles about the green-growing-things 

and the scarlet bruising of my knowing heart

wait for me ...

just beyond that curious twisted tree

as i am meant to hold that hand

& tender your worries 

slow your pace 

&

wait 

for me 

as i discovered the strength & ability to wait for you 

present

      it has been days that feel like years since i've written any words 

here 

from that folded cerebellum 

to hands that drip broken tea cups full of blossoming blue skies 

and space 

endless images drip behind my eyes inked--outlined 

clouds once white become the leaves of songs 

gifted offerings of birds & plastered dreams 

what chapter is this? 

what lies here with me--within this life? 

the bark of summer trees or the borrowed aspects of others 

i've gathered to my fragile flowered cups? 

delicate presence awakening towards the sun 

waiting

 i have been there  

in the space between barely breathing 

thistles & vervain cushion my steps 

     but they have been few 

always compassed towards you 

yet 

     the sun shines on me right here with all my sweat & heartache 

with all these scars i was told to keep out of the sun 

because they will darken & thicken 

yet

how thick they become with ignorance & disgust as well 

so stand in the Sun 

darken the scars 

point your thistle vervain compass towards your own heart 

towards your own Sky and Sun and Being 

moonshadow drawing #9

Stealing beside me
an ochre whisper
defines your phantom presence
     a whisper 
classically soft
slowly
erasing all negative space
blooming into darkness 

and 
the quiet burn of a million stars

"Make a strong line--don't sketch it out--
be sure when you draw", you told me that

once.

"be sure"

drawn then--
sure

held strong
on a kiss that carries the paisley weight
&
spin of this blue rock
exquiste 

containing the 1939 World's Fair
the soundtrack to Fantasia
& maybe The Monkees

calliope hummingbirds land on our tongues
flying into our stained-glass souls
as the 2:17 rolls thru town 

a kiss 
stealing all measure of wound & rumpled sorrow
pheasant feathers & words are weaved into
patchwork succulence
skin is diffused

scarred & forgiven--effervescent almost
inconsequential to the heart of the matter

bloom

and
hold
draw sure 
&
linger into this slumbered summer ghost kiss

sixty-six

each morning rising with an almost unexpected spark 

this wonderlife 

filled & emptied 

filled & emptied 

joy to sorrow to pain to stasis to sorrow to joy 

each breath a surprise 

scraping against the tide 

each movement a tender flight 

how can we hold such multitudes at once? 

our human magic a mystery 

unknown to some 

celebrated in the smaller things like the blues of a June morning 

the slumber of a dog 

the smell of a coming storm 

becoming lost & found to the empty & full 

becoming closer to our younger self . . . so wrapped in the velvet of tomorrows 

brushing tangibly viscerally against moments past 

(i can smell 1968) 

people past 

wonder & magic 

sorrow & pain past 

Oh how the veil thins 

Oh the slumber of a dog 

   and all that remains ...

let go 

hello morning . . .