Tuesday, December 27, 2011

pluto in capricorn. . .

This must be the afterglow of intent . .
ringed-rosy & flooded soft
against the fading light of day
soft
yielding to a voice
a pull
lessons learned . . .
outlined in the hallucination of a jet-stream-wish
somnolent in the cooling,
warm in wrapped surrender
light softens yet further to earth & plain
pierced fire a prerequisite to understanding
as the soul reflects
tyrian purple, vermillion & alice blue frailty
softly, softly . . .
become the afterglow . . .


birth . . .

baby boom daughter of a movie queen and a medicine show
juggling moons and carnival masks
between the blue waters ....
tonight ...
snow comes on
heavy & thick as black as a walnut's thigh
turning this lament into a great horns cry
the sharp daggered pierce
of a cut to the core
bruises & wounds
each intake of breath
every mistake and regret
as i live with the pain
yet there.
move that picture of dragons & orbs
yes...
there
move it
to reflect even more upon the veiled faces
veiled with secrets accomplished
and golden beauty stolen with whimsies hand
sparkling & golden .....
rain melts all regret .

ohh holy wonderful listeners . .

HeLLo . . !! Along with writing & posting new stuff dear readers, I will be re-posting some older pieces that are some of my favorite . . Deepest apologies if you find this silly, boorish & irrelevant. I kinda like to take them out, shake off the dust & see what echoes still . . thank you for being out there & coming along for the ride. .
best wishes in the coming new year to you all. . .

Thursday, December 22, 2011

I wouldn't know. . .

( this comes from a notebook dated 9/77. . . an example of when I first started writing words down, recapping, observing & listening. . . )

How sad it must be to grow up and realize it is not important anymore :
How many marbles you have,
How bright the stars are,
What time you all are to meet to play Cowboys & Indians,
And how much it will snow. . .
What is important is how much money you have in the bank
How sad it must to grow up and realize you no longer rise
Every morning sparkly & new, to run outside
To catch butterflies & grasshoppers, play in the sunshine and
Eat flowers for breakfast
Thatnyou must rise for a job you hate with a hangover from too much,
To eat carnation breakfast squares between the backdoor and the driveway to
A car that will never be a Jaguar
How sad it must be to grow up and realize that all people are not from Atlantis
And no one lives down the alley from a graceful old lady
With a fossilized Mermaid in her basement
No,
When you grow up you have pool tables, bars & tv's in your basement
How sad it is to grow up and realize you are gown up
Of course, I wouldn't know !!!!

Friday, December 9, 2011

gemini moon

folded & feather-hollowed
still . . .
pressed & slumbered golden
awakened to the crystal of the amber surrender
rising open & poured-warm
across forgiveness & scar tissue
to
discover a warriors heart & a cinnamon quest
awake now
kneeling to the edge :
ivory-pink & needing lingering whispers of truth & fragility
and the take & give of a crimson thread knotted & held
hold & linger in the sharpness until sharpness fades to soft
pressed & open-golden
softly captive
In your hands . . .
there is no risk
there is only breath and tame presence
life & skin illuminated
by
surrender
winged & willing