Thursday, July 21, 2016

48% ... pressure @ 29.98" ✑

to rest astride the hope
not fix
not decide
allow the collide

the gray to blue to green
common hours separate the pulse
waking to want to wait
licorice root & peppermint tea
beneath blue sky & gamma rays
hope shimmers in the trail of luna moths

allow the rise

the rest
is found

Wednesday, July 20, 2016

100º at nine twenty-five

cicadas sing  
bone rubbed against dreams flutter
heat rising from soil
pressed between green plains
waves of light and shadows long
cicadas song
wings folded to twilight's azure
night deepens
allowing the violet to come 


violet plumes of leaning
tapped & tempered by thunderheads rising in the west
air lies electric upon the backs of cicadas
rain impacts breathing as the land rises in a steamed goldenrod collide
harder it falls
the sound & the sensation & the smell
fill every break & crack & hole
we are this violet-shifting morning sky ...

Monday, July 18, 2016


blue was the final color we learned to see
wild--startling that discovery ....
pressed there against the vast white sky
allowed to unfurl
tempered try
the color of truth
(the secret color of love )
the petaled nuanced hope we speak of
coned and gathered
color only exists as it is perceived by the individual
texture felt by the fierce and mystical
what place do we hold after
four thousand five hundred years?
how viscous the scar, how warm the tears
where is the sovereign sun to warm our stars?
tempest darkness
harbored rising
light of words and tongues opalizing
Oh midnight ,,,
deep hollow gleams
embrace the night
delphinium dreams

Saturday, July 9, 2016

kwee low

it is one of those times ......
kept awake at night-times
the flutter of everything ..... churning, questioning ......
the hum of the fan overhead,
the slight, slow metronome drip from the bathtub down the hall, 
the silence -
the bone-bending aching silence of 3 o'clock in the morning .
the echo of loneliness and
a reconciliation of the parts as they spill into the grey
as sleep fails to take me ....
and i run blindly thru some cerebral stormy labyrinth searching out something true & whole .....
the green walls & dim light enclose me as some earthy bower
yet i am restless & struggling against this chained fabric ....
i know how i would hold you if you were mine.
i want a sleep that is painless & clean, as you lie pressed against my back
the soft hardness of you

sleep fails to take me
.... and i am left in wakeful-moon- dreams

Wednesday, July 6, 2016

the moon's epistle

how tight this blossomed mask of illusion fits
how deep the thorns of loneliness cut
barely breathing
yearning blue & folded
the long, twisted knot hits bone
needing nothing
puppet to master
stone to velvet-soft
wind to sail
fearless yet weary of pretense & discord
struggling to keep sacred
that opal light
that lies along the chesnut-cord of tenderness
a reciprocated knowing intimacy
locked within the pandora's box called 'there'
in all that is you . . . is me
both light & fire
gather the plumage of peacock-gold & scarlet-blue feathers that