Thursday, May 28, 2015

notes for pieces

There is this fragment
that wants torn love in this house
clapboards birch bone bare
shuttered windows of flag and fabric

cinatown cadillac
beeswax vapors
be gentle
show mercy

table of chance and crackers
pop pop popping
felted dreams and stories 
drawn from old quilts and trolls
wonderland lined
weighted with want and hours
pop pop popping
light upon black need

ease joy bliss

sometimes the sounds that call us home are not melodious


note











once dreamt of arms sure of the embrace of arms
sure of self shining fast
down hallways varnished with peonies
brair'd in spring's promise unfolding
in
this
blue
day
is winter's prose of farewell
find
me
in
full light 

Wednesday, May 27, 2015

gray

Sitting
looking out the front windows to the south
 tossing words carelessly around as I try and come up with something worthy. 
Worthy of myself, worthy of your time & attention. 
You.
My interior landscape is bleak, not cooperating in the least ... words pinball thru mind;
carnal love, familia love, intimacy, knowing, trust, ease ... truth.
Outside, 
The wind shifts
suddenly lifts one of the dark motley gray branches of the oak tree,
raising it from its resting place into a patchwork section of the sky's palest blue, 
and I see it.
 There. 
In the contrast of this smooth alice-blue sky against the tattered & mottled feldgrau of the oak.
electric alchemy of two things:
the colliding line where energy brings like energy
cosmic ouroboros completed
humans believe in their whole & their true
when myth & grace teach us blue
fragmented little beasties 
the shiny ones break 
glass upon stone 
together 
as lovers
as intimate pirates
 ... and when the chains & pulsing tributaries of our soul recognize a smell, a song, a taste of another ... to 'sing the body electric' is home, where kisses taste of mandarin oranges & lavender and sex smells of smoke & lightening .... well. 
Then. 
Contrast. Alchemy. 
There is no inch of skin too sacred, no word too tender or too wicked. It is the narration of a very individual story, told in the contrast & collide of open hands upon warm waiting skin, 
it is the give & take, 
the surrender of self to take in, 
to fuck stars and dazzle your own soul with peace and presence and the unchartered understanding of another exhausted transcendence follows as one steps back to self, to earth, where separation can be another set of contrasts; full to empty, happy to void, fractured to circled wholeness the closer to the fire one stands, the more insane the remainder feels ... 
Oh! 
and that becomes a rub 
...to pull the alchemy into your soul
allow it to shift awareness 
to lean towards life with more of everything, 
Ah ...  that thread .... becomes the axis. 
Holding the thread becomes your being ...  
to carry the connection thru to the ordinary hours becomes your religion. 
If you falter, let go ... 
(which surely happens)
well that is a dark companion that is hard to fight, hard to quell its stench and temper. 
So hold on. 
Let the silver and mercury 
mix with sulfur and gold ... allow the richness of knowing to temper against the dark
guard against the cold 
staunch the flow of blood from the gaping wound 
of 
the collide. 
That rugged line of gray against the smooth alice-blue .... Alchemy love. 

Heavy black heart

Tuesday, May 26, 2015

after



thin blue line 
upon a yellow field 
aimless 
enchanted 
sorrow 
tucked 
deep 
pain's resonating rhythm 
tethered to the bending 
thin 
blue 
line 
pulsing joy 
traced in the rise 
of 
birdsong
pressed 
to 
morning 



Thursday, May 14, 2015

cooling



Come
turn me younger
paint the inside of
my mouth with ink clementines & diamonds
drip sunshine blonde upon these lips 
come
sit it down
in morning's sweet marigold mist 
viola velvet sorrow'd taste 
come 
turn me inside out 
abide beside me fluid and awake 
allow the cut of joy's remembrance 
to close the wound 
halt the spin 
staunch the blood 
turn 
me 
to 
June 

Monday, May 11, 2015

passenger

saw grass leaned south-east from
north-westerly winds unrelenting 
gray clouds thunder swollen 
smell of rain rising 
storm pending 


Tuesday, May 5, 2015

patchouli room





laying in wait
for the potion to take 
a light tender hold of your heart 

at six thousand feet 
the atmosphere's weak 
and the lover abandons his part  

all this grey morning gloom 
all the pain in this room 
all this high country fragile fresh start 

patchouli room 
ghosts autumn tomb 
the fire fails to spark
love, please come to bed 
get naked instead
of eviscerating our fractured cold stars 
masks are just futile 
but 
the surrender is beautiful 
this room will treasure our scars 

what should have been ours 
dissolved to salt stars 
no embers spark to fire

on tongues sharp with dust
our demons breathe rust
expectations brier

thru iced windows glaze
deer come out to graze 
and 
we surrender all bricked desire 

patchouli room 
'neath silvered frost moon
trust tumbles & falls to bed 
fear slips to the side 
solace abides
the potion was ours for the taking

golden day dawns
intimacy bonds
pine wraps around crisp bones
stolen locket of time
partings solitary rhymes
with words 
... the spell is breaking 





chrysos anthos melting . .











i can hear the slight
electric-buzz-rumbling of blood pulsing steadily past the
the petrified tautness of whatever the hell that muscle is called ...
ears thrumming
thrumming
in this black quiet train-whistle-of-a-night
40% chance of something coming down ....
while
 i

stand          here

desiring

melt
an all-system-shut-down-melt
an isabella chrysanthemum melt
puddled there beneath these mock legs
petaling out towards light & rest
tendrils of something smelling of rain & destiny sweep past my focus
as
i
dream
of
melt
surrendered acceptance
if your arms encircled me now, would my body respond ?
is this calling weariness but a memory of you
riding the storm cusp
closing eyes ....
breathing slows and time wavers in lines of mint amethyst
pulse slows
and
i
require
melt ::

magic-fingers-motel-bed-melt cotton-mouthed-wet-orgasic-gasping-melt
holding your hand melt sunshine-melt blazing fire & jamieson melt
a moonlight-knowing-melt

yes
there is no such thing as mistake
there is no control here, only release & forgiveness
untie the bandage & open wide arms . .
melt into story ...
flowered blossom thunder
and
a 40% chance of something coming down

Friday, May 1, 2015

Lament to the passing cow






cattle truck passing
on a late afternoon
east of somewhere 
one brief silver moment passing
eye to eye with a bovine soul
whose fate is sealed with in a midwest tomb 
fortunes casting
knowing lies in those brown windows patches
knowing captivity & pain
solace laces across the divide
empathy waves thru the grain
go with my knowing kindred beast
go with Spring's warmth easing your bones
your eyes are a kind & gentle reminder
that Gaia's love will see you to home