forecast

empty, restless, hungry, tired, wanting, feeling .....
... the snow that waits outside these windows awakens me to
a desire for wine ....
a bold, deep cabernet with heavy bread
a want of books, of blogs, of leather boots with high heels, flannel sheets
& clean white socks with nakedness, of lectures & knowledge, of greys & blues, of smells.
i'm fucking hungry !!
i crave visions, revelations, magic, snow, dancing, language, poetry, thoughts that explode or linger, words that bleed, words that bruise, touch that heals.
i want to eat your laughter, the sound of your sighs
to consume the dust of your soul
happy hours of your silence & your semen
medium rare steak, underwear, wind, thunder-ale drowned in music.
music, music, music ....
i'll devour your salt-honeyed skin
i am obscenely starved i am ....
of touch, movement, snow, alice's looking glass, peace, sunshine, mountain breezes,
affordable health care
edible words like cunt & fuck & snow & linger & mango
give me cigar smoke, tribal dreams and new orleans
sweet smell of honeysuckle jazz
and your smell 
your smell
one, two, three ...
madly jonesing i am.
let me chew, gulp. lick, smell once again, kiss forever
lie in your arms forever .....
to lick every warm inch of skin, to have my mouth full of your
songs, strawberries, earth, joy.
wake up !!
turn off your cell phone- pull down your underwear- get wet-
- pour your mind into my hands
and
i
will
tenderly
hold ...... you.

let the light catch up with you …..

On this day
the sun is peeking over the roofs to the East--moving over the pillows of snow
drifted & frozen upon nearly everything.
the sky clear
forget-me-not blue
pale
clear
at 8:30, i realize it was one week ago around this time that sorrow landed
with the pop & chaos of catastrophic violence
in Sandy Hook

I stop
and breathe
watching the sun and its reflection upon the snow.
to remember loss--my own personal, deep-to-the-marrow-loss

and how
above all things
the wish
that
everyone
would just
stop
(truly everyone)
just fucking stop
for a moment
for one moment
realize the depth of loss, the world's loss
to notice my aching & tattered hole
to stop

and in stopping
I notice the light is moving closer to me--silently sure & bold
silently illuminating my place

in stopping
we let the light catch up

love in a grove of trees or what comes after .....

the smooth slip of the silver needle lies between fingers dry & uncertain
my 6th vain attempt of bulls-eyeing the vanilla thread is heavy & ringing
things will be alright if i can just sew this button on a pair of jeans she wants . .
things will be alright if i say the right thing, look full & compassionate
pointedly earnest & hanging
yet
not
too
much
concern defines chaos
outlining evenings buckled in grateful fear & mortality
things will be alright if i buy her a new skirt, complement her hair
hold that ancient precious memory close .... enough
feed her right & she will grow strong & resilient
show her the shores of the world & read her books of peter rabbit & frog & toad
let her choose her clothes & she becomes confident & free
define her poppy-sparrow-laughter
and
suddenly
there is the blue-red of
needle pricked flesh ...
leaving a scar ever-so-slight & insignificant
slight & insignificant
is there such a thing ?
ever ?
no one ever tells you what it's like to swim in paralyzing gratefulness
thick, blue & smothering
warm & murky
gratefulness is an insignificant word . .
it is more a mercy-steeped-grace
beating & throbbing with all things ....
all things alive and green & smelling of a ripe peach in sunshine .
no one tells you how to love inside out & lost to the
rhythm of a clock not your own
no control, except to press the wound gently & steadily until .....
things are alright

threshold

Everything is candy apple sophomoric and flat
Void of sensation and bite
Air chilled and strained of Mozart, honey & stars . . .
Pluto exposing our fire, our wise blue nakedness
I need to swing out higher than tree tops
To run alongside cars & mustangs
I need to plunge into water braced for a December night
To wear a gown of Edwardian lace : full & resplendent & tight
Carve out whatever magic-seed is meshed into my soul and roast it
With sage & lavender until my soft palate quivers with need
Tie me to the white aspen & allow the sparrow to tattoo it's name along my thigh
Fill my heart with gems of blue & azure . .
Hold it up to the moon & catch the scent of your archer self. . .
Hold it. . . just right and you will shine that sparkle
Into my marrow and
I will feel

calling moon to venus

violet-blue wash  . . .
a softness of dusk-pink defines the horizon
lift the brush
& carry the felted bird,
the pined branch
as
forgiveness lies thorned & dry upon the scarred skin of acceptance
run your hand down the sternum of this fairy apple-soul
to
light the way to love
in corners ash bold & sharp
thrumming to season's shift
and
winter's bite of frost & fragility gray
no more
no more
paint my path with the colors of this day

samadhi

what of the things that surround us. . .
textures of cotton or hemp, silks or stone
colors azure bold or softly veiled
scents timeless & traveled
tapped in, wired in
candles illuminating our path or
corners shadowed & unknown . .
what we see. . . we become
step to the side of the ordinary, touch the extraordinary
see what has lied there alone & covered by earth & leaves
kicked aside as if some gypsy's dream
blink
focus
shed those garments that weigh your shine down
pick up a scent of a new path . . and follow with trust & possibility
we become what we know . .
so know deeply
see differently
trust your steps
listen to all the shades of gray . .
and with your voice raised to the clouds :
risk

VI

this isn't about love
not about the tracing of maps upon skin-streets
not about needs
wants
60 days
kisses
or the shape i found you in
it is the feel
of my body - this body
striving to be all it can
bones of hand swollen and aching
reaching
struggling
learning
rebelling
skin becoming creped, freckled from age
not sun-kissed and peachy
as before ....
as before.
bones thinning
remembering
refusing to listen
heaviness
lingering
in hips, waist, thighs
heaviness
reckless youth
what i would trade for the effortless birthright of ease of movement
coltish awkwardness & strength
...... and joy.
i ache
from the grinding of bone upon bone
muscle against the gravity of the moon
and the space between where we are and where we want to be
held there by the tautness of your will

enough

it is
what I get from you . . .
unheralded & honeysuckled
this bridge of
enough . . .
spanning the place between cargo pants
and lacy underthings
sweet clove surrender
folding into a pink borealis of
feminine fire
decidedly belonging .
enough . . .
to fill the broken places & saddle the phoenix-rising
from tail to breast
snow white of bone-hollowed fullness
secrets carried close & wild
always enough . .