Monday, August 10, 2015

Sturgeon Moon



storms of earth
and
blue-heron seekers
what fractal fragility lies under
this sultry haze of August nights
here on the prairie grass
where
softness
drips
from thunder
and
the dust of bees
dreams rise from
fire
ice
and
the dance of the moonshine warriors, peacemakers
and
beekeepers
we paint ourselves naked
and
frolic with the monkey-wrenching tight-rope walkers
shifting into love activists
thick & plush in woolen kilts
mighty our rose tongues
and sharp the bite
with softness
secretly tucked
between the blood folds
and
below freckled skin imprinted by sailing ships
and ink trails
replete with sorrow

sorrow

buoyant and lucky
the cursed ones
squeeze that misshapen fractal along the palm-heart-line
and tender it's story
with a circle of stones
and
wild birds

1 comment:

  1. Oh this has a Burning Man flare to it...so wish I was painting my face and dancing in the circle... Ha!

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