Wednesday, June 25, 2014

this late june morning










in the still, quiet thrum of morning . . .
it feels as if all the words have been written
there is no more cathartic revelation
no eureka-thesaurus moment where words & time roll into the place of always . .
nothing but the early thrum of the day
morning
stillness
a breeze barely rocking the curly willow
a dog curled against my back - pressing
a sky carousel-blue, unreal in it's hand-dipped perfection
but when the sunshine strikes my face
my eyes close ....
and we are laying upon a quilt of weathered-dried-in-the-sun
cotton patchwork
in a field of green-summer-golden
early
morning
stillness ....
a breeze barely rocking the curly willow
a distant thrum from a river wide & rushing eastward
pressing
it feels as if all the words have been written
there is no more than this ...
a meadowlark sings it's warrior song
claiming this piece of carousel-blue always
for it's own

Tuesday, June 24, 2014

of stasis & steps ...













i am moved by rainfall
and
courted by lilacs
discussed by leathered gypsies around campfires
fired up at dusk amongst aspen & age
embers burning the silk of our resistance
distance lies only in the disconnect
dormant is the dream in direct proportion to wakefulness
ease into this summer fire
ease into allowing the possible
love is only as small as your container :
dance with the morning
taste the rain on your tongue
and be still with me ….

Saturday, June 7, 2014

19 days
















these voilet-ringed hours
fierce & far-flung
missing becomes thunderous
needle
spinning
in direct proportion to the tangerine yearn
lines erase
the love remains the same ...


Monday, June 2, 2014

june 2 at 8 o'clock











sometimes it is hard to write from the flat places . . .
this braided morning of songbirds & coffee
light aligned with contentedness oaked & amber-mine
no lingering dream of surrendered cotton smoothness
no peaked & inescapable yearning
merely a leaning into a shadowed new morning
sure in the knowing
sure of the curve of the flat places
sure in the damp-dove-calling of these minutes
shining  . .


roundabout














playground ....
merry-go-round
spinning red, blue, yellow, green
cool to the touch
wobbling above
uneven ground
thrumming 'round
as this traveling window spins ,,,,
spins
twirls and
spins again
green-leafed trees, brown-dry earth
zoom past
faces, movement, heart-rate fast
hold on ...
don't look down
just
gaze upon this sparkling june night ,,,,
gaze & breathe & hold on tight
lean into the whirl or resist the curve
you are the force behind the spin
able to slow or push again
this tattered earth toy
this wheel of childhood
listen ?
feel that pull ?
that circle dance ?
you are the reason this tale is told
now hold on tight 
and don't let go   . . 

eclipse of the 3rd & 9th








it is but a fable,
a story told . .
of coyotes & jesters
thieves & killers
moss-agate paths not taken & turquoise held captive ....
ageless
the opposition of force & desire struggling across distance & the expected
sparks of jupiter leave their scar-trail in some long-forgotten map of home
while currents of air circle & blaze 
circle & blaze . . 
upon waking :  there is suddenly no sideways struggle
merely a cooling willow wind and
a knowing peace that rests with things you can not see
warrior-love exists there in the quiet places now
a bridge upon which worlds rest & spin
knowing chiron & the sharp pain of loss will find you
breathless & waiting & content
scents of olive & thunder linger in the air . .
fire - air - water
a fable
a story told under mercury's stars ....
a colliding dance down a topaz trail, deeply wooded-green & lined with a swan's feathers  . . .
no pressing of time now that the shadow of the sun has lingered here
breathe deeply of marigold & amethyst
hold fast
accept &
know you are exactly where you need to be
and where you are ....
is love