Sunday, April 29, 2012

sunday morning .... Day # 29

Poppy-maple-morning
seeking divine aspects
serendipitously
tasting my wild

Compelled to river's edge
pressed to earth's curve breathing
soul in blue water's blue
finding my child


Friday, April 27, 2012

to sail .... Day #27


Winken, Blynken and Nod one night
set sail in a cashmere boat
with oars made of pearls & a peppermint hull
and a captain in a turquoise coat

The moon rose up to capture the night
as the sails billowed & filled
carrying the ship across the sea
under stars from a diamond wind-mill

An opal deck stretched fore & aft
rainbowing under full-moon
with masts of ebony reaching up to the night
as the dish whirled about with the spoon

Upon the deck glowed a golden chest
with swirls of amber paisley
a latch made of porcelain, a handle of mint
with buckles of snow-drop daisies

It opened right up with a will of it's own
and there on a bergamot bed
nestled amongst deep-scarlet silk
was a clock with a dragon's head

A clock of the finest silver
knotted in the finest weave
tic-tocking & churning on wheels & cogs
tiny hands of an amethyst vive

The wee dragon's head shimmered & shone
with scales of deep forest green
it's eyes were of snow, with lashes of gold
the most mischievous smile ever seen

The dragon peered out of it's nest of silk
and yawned with might & sleep
the eyes did blink, the nostrils flared
with his wings unfurled he did sweep

Out from the clockworks !! out from the chest !!
the wings spread 30 feet wide
fluttered & moved with grace & aplomb
until he shifted the ocean's tide

Waves rolled up over stem & stern
the peppermint hull they pounded
shuttering & shaking with fury & force
as they captain stood there astounded . .

" Hang on me maties,
hang on me friends - bring those sails quick down,
batten them up & 'don your coat
and pray we all don't drown."

Winken, Blynken & Nod set to work
'astrapping the sails down tight
as the dragon beat his broad, gorgeous wings
raising the ship to moonlight . . .

The vessel set sail upon currents of wind
as the dragon his wings he did fold
he lowered his head, one small puff he then blew
this quest was long foretold . .

Of a ship, crew of four, a night & a song
and a dragon born of stars
to set off on a journey to circle the world
to learn the secrets of Mars

The crew did relax with a sigh of content
as the ship balanced & sped
the dragon at rest on his bed of silk
story born from twilight's thread

Winken, Blynken & Nod set out
humming a broadway tune
captain of turquiose at the helm
as a cow jumped over the moon . . .

The ship flew into deepest night
for coasts & planets unknown
as the crew peered up 'ore the starboard side
and the stars their pleasure shone

The clockwork-dragon rests peacefully
curled up in it's quiet, soft space
breathing & dreaming of far off delights
and the piece that fills a hollow place

A compass for travel, a compass to roam
a dragon of tic-tocking gifts
who appeared one day
at a quater to May
always willing to compass you home . .



Wednesday, April 25, 2012

Day # 25 …









Orange swirling flame of days,
sizzle like moth wings,
crackle after the blazing dies.
So much of any year is flammable,   
only the things I didn’t do 
transparent scarlet paper,
lists of vegetables, partial poems.   
Where there was something and suddenly isn’t,   
Notes friends tied to the doorknob,   
an absence shouts, celebrates, leaves a space.  
Letters swallow themselves in seconds.  
Quick dance, shuffle of losses and leaves,
I begin again with the smallest numbers.
so little is a stone.
marry the air.


constructed from :  Burning the Old Year
BY    NAOMI SHIHAB NYE


Tuesday, April 24, 2012

9th to the 5th

emotions crack the archer's fire mask
with a brutal halt
fluttered egos falling into the kiln
with a crackling spark of definition
iron & silver tempered .....
mercury cooling
we cull
weeds & vines
unworthy bonds
falling away under this intense gaze
guarded & secret
and
closer to summer ...
your knighted unwillingness
beguiling & messy
bold
movement & adventure holds surrender distant
you are safe
you are built of trust & clouds gray
steel
go deeper ... deeper still
incise & unfold into a home pined for, but never seen
but known. yes.
a wellness healed at the fire's edge wrapped in belief ...
you are safe
.... built of trust & clouds gray

Day #24 . . . lying under









i will write nothing  . .
mind full
of
storm's twigged debris
peppermint growing
wild
thyme rising
wild
thru chives & primrose of evening

quiet 
the rioting 
demons & gods of my quivered doubt 

fill me with
lemon iris … wild

ssshhhh ….

Monday, April 23, 2012

Day #23 . . . in hand

to what do I owe this pleasure ...
a posturing hand
holding line thin
soft black
possible ... and
willing
inked nightingale
silver fragile
strong of song
turn
speak to me
of time & truth
night's swollen moment
captured

Sunday, April 22, 2012

of indigo. . . day #22

carry my soul
beyond light
into holes forgotten
full sun planted
lapis

larked & violet-blue
indigo
my nostrils fill
with
beeswax

shadows
brand me
amethyst brands me
wild golden royal
indigo yours

Saturday, April 21, 2012

Day #21 . . azul











Somewhere
larks sing
blue sky released

Somewhere
love grows
fear released blue

Blue
fiercely pulls
winged possibility somewhere 

Thursday, April 19, 2012

No . . . Day #19









i can only be good for so long
i can pretend to tow-the-line . .
i wrote richard nixon back in 1972
then cut my hair & wore black eye-liner for 4 months
while listening to the ramones
i will not write what you say . . .
that is the truimph on 'opposites' day
fuck that
as i feel the gray-cloud needle's sweet-tart bite into skin
balanced on the precipice of constraint
i want to chase cars like a black mongrel
dressed in burlesque red ; feathered, shadowed
i will juggle balls of fire
and
spin planets of irish crytal
while
writing upon your skin of hope's desire
love deep & fierce
sucking at marrow & possibility
tighten
release
tighten
release
fuck that
it's cloudy today, and i like that  . . . 

Wednesday, April 18, 2012

Day #18 ..... to lullaby


white flannel of egypt worn soft & fine
wrapped in story's tender line
train & owl songs define this night
as stars pour down brilliance bright
goodnight the sun who rules our day
who lights our step, chasing all grey
goodnight to dogs & bears & horses
creatures who grace our daylight courses
goodnight to colors bold & bright
time now for stars & moon of night
goodnight to the weary
goodnight
goodnight
hold close to dreams
to awake at sun's light


Tuesday, April 17, 2012

Day #17 . . Dear . . .


Dear Glass Harlequin Heart,
your cool, verdant smoothness of sand & water transformed
by
fusing, slumping : manipulation cool
softness occurs at 1501 degrees ....
warmed to skin by holding & trust
molded for high-spectrum effect
reflective secrets trapped by shadows & sun
rudimentary Kemet surrenders to the efficient fused
roman rules of glassblowers & soul twisters
stacking, soaks
of green apple weight & bite
damn the dark, damn the light
1501 moon's
1501 metronomed beats to where you are
1501 songs trapped inside
1501 miles to the eleventh house
hold
and
melt
bring to the temperature of your skin
your skin
1501 degrees
your crystal secrets safe . . .
Love.

love .... just















that place, that space between
smelled of star-burst lilies & madagascar vanilla
air heavy
heavy with promise, rain & chance
my tall haight-asbury boots you hate heavy with the red mud
of this iridescent pursuit
sun-laden & verdant fronds brush against my freckled skin
waking me
waking me every few steps to your green-electric pulse of
need & indecision
sticky & pressing
hot
despite my baggy jungle clothes
earth scatters about me in
pink silver phosphorescence
as
i wrestle with the this tattered, aging ghost of you
arguing of crystal walls, politics & desire
darkly sentient as we traverse this illusive moment of truth
narrow & biting & wonderful
why didn't you tell me it would be like this ?
why can't i find my way back to the before ?
is there not some hansel & gretel trail of if-crumbs i can follow ?
my heart beats ...
open & biting & wonderful
my pace slows
to accommodate your grace & reluctance
to become whole
come
 .... or not.
the path remains the same
and 
i remain strongly anchored to the between
& this viridian chaos....