Tuesday, March 29, 2016

to return



in the doldrums of late winter 
there are no words
tricky illusive basterds .... 
they are nowhere
well, of course ... 
they're somewhere 
but not 
here
.... falling from these fingertips 
in a threaded tumble 
fluid & tangible 
as breath 
or rain
no 
there is no stream of tale or poem 
no manic observation 
or sensation to document 
upon a back of a magazine or captured whiteness 
my words have taken a holiday 
caught the two in the morning train 
hopped a flight 
to a secluded island off the Scottish coast 
of sea & cliff
heather &  heath 
here .... 
they are at peace 
in a quaint white cottage with a good fire, tea & cozy beds 
night skies are domed with the stars of a thousand songs 
and the sun teases warmth 
but delivers ease away from my hubristic juggled use 
away from the liquid pour & crafted will of my ordinary hours 
but ...
Spring is waking 
bringing green to the red bark of the japanese maple 
as hyancynith & crocus peek up from 
the dried straw-colored winter debris 
cranes are returning to the river 
today in the garden, 
Raised beds were cleaned 
dust & whiteness raked across the earth 
tidying & bending 
reaching & striving 
as the sun shone 
bright & brilliant upon my face 




Saturday, March 26, 2016

the road

funny how things come on
the opalescent compartment of soul suddenly shifting to amber
against the concrete dashboard
omnipresent darkness falling
soft rain falling
time collapsing
surrounded in the unmistakable scent of you
warmth
strength
pressing pressing
falling
into
fireflies
clouded moons and no tomorrows

just
this spot of twilight gleaning
you.are. here.

with ....

Wednesday, March 23, 2016

invisible

i am ghost
transparent to all but a few
(seers or fools all)
replete with tambourine & crinoline
moving thru the alley lives of friends and strangers
unknown
pierced with perspective
upon the turning of seasons
unknown
little do they realize how vast my craft, how wild ....
little do they know the sweep of my blue illumination
carried here on wings tucked--hidden
to all
but a few....(seers & fools)
when words glaze my bones
find my feathered home
: seeing
i gasp
  discovered
  uncovered
in the elixir'd
warmth
of
a Sun
i barely recall the name of:
Sun!
: seen
this golden nest light




Monday, March 21, 2016

gaoth

these days when wind becomes blood
coursing
bursting
thru the indigo
to bloom
blossom cherry'd and
petaled to September
of welt and frost's threat
Sun turns fear to vastness blue
dimmed not by darkness
or
feathered weight
of
love and all its fire
brimming
becoming
Spring 

of wind








recycled words from sorrow's lips
replete with thundersnow & wine
darken the corners of this trip
no trace of trumpet vine …
ride the north wind
as long as you dare ….
lashed tight - eyes closed to the chill
push the luck to the shadowlands
and
fist raised to gravity's spill
flying - always the art of kings,
poets & gypsies blue
land ye soft upon fields of gold
escape lies north of you


Saturday, March 19, 2016

remember that time at the river

wake at the first crack of sun
call the crows and cranes
sip the whiskey and
pour the earl gray as
you
paint my body with your words
balm comes to those who chase the line
between
the thunder and the rain
damn these feathers and wind
damn the morning light
lifting me away

contentment tucked against cerulean slumber
dreams and dancing to the scent
of bonfires and love
piercing sweet temperance hollowed
as this storm reaches the river just as cranes
land to water and grassland wine
innocence disguised as complacency
in a rising time, waking line
separations torment
come back thru lightening
clouds black rolling east
lifting me away

wake at the first crack of sun
calling to cranes and crows
of a morning parting
from the slumbered
knowing
of you ....
lift me away






Thursday, March 17, 2016

light … dark ….gray









The wounded and the grappling ones
Meet upon fields of scar tissue
Weary & recognizable
Our fractures form equations of perfection
Balanced in Aquarian algorithms
With holes burned in the fabric of our masks . . .
We twitch with a sensitivity to
the sun and the salt
Awareness numbed into compliance & assumption
Collective memories collide & are quieted by
the touch of a hand,
The twinkled depth of eyes sure & fired by
blood & snow
As one, we catch the beat of a thousand spring wings
Turning our truth up to the
blueness and the feathered gray
We catch the scent of earth & passion . . .and
Step closer to the knowing 

Tuesday, March 15, 2016

March 14th

















... of a day blue--cloud thick
gray--bird thick
stacked in rows across fields waking
calling calling to choir
               and plains
what silent pull alights them?
to water the color of vastness
waiting
easily lost in the river's tongue
ripple after ripple to shore
wait
consumed by sky and pressing thunder far comes the night
lightening
drops
        to illuminate eagle nest and night falling falling
circling t
hey come
straight and arrowed to land
one after one after sun sinks into brilliance
the sun
this night
as sound carries across the glass to bend the hearts
waiting ....
forged of winter and water's rhyme
danced in crimson shimmering
we become
as vast as gray birds
landed
in this spot
of day's last breath



Tuesday, March 8, 2016

lamb to lion, moon to light, wrong to right


Upon a time . .
She was darkness tethered
unaware long ago she'd alchemized the chains
locked
bowed
and
spinning
on an isle of truth
mazed by a field of wrong choices
lying to save something sane

porcelain broke
sorrowful circles
glimpses of light
treading life
ballast sought
grounded from flight
cement the cracks
and search for right


hunted as a fox to rabbits
desperation clings to bone & breath
lost to the grace
and
the grateful
living inside her head

rescue rides a dragon
awareness wakened by touch
surrender paid with contented cost
golden thread tenders much

recognition is directed
                  'til compassion for self is taught

so just saying;
the stones are heavy
throwing
bleeds out the cut
acknowledge
and
grieve
with each tender toss
and
know that love
unlocks

Friday, March 4, 2016

of a march morning

paint me alabaster if you dare ....
feathered in grasses golden
i will stand solitary
and naked
in
fields laid smooth by northerly winds & tall white birds
add to me your meridian scars
cobalt
         and raised to the sun
arms outstretched for crows & demons
paint me alabaster if you dare ....
far from crowds & circuses
far from pressed tenderness
as i hold tenderness between felt & fold
enough for a thousand lifetimes
noble patience comes the day
knowing rains & midnight to bind
paint me alabaster
i will wait for you
here ...

Tuesday, March 1, 2016

march wind. . . .


walls flat-line to ivory sails
winter's ghost trailing
love stories defined in black sharpie
against the azure day
shifting
shifting ....
dimensions blending into ripe copper moments
shifting
a single desire to feel your skin against my back
breaking the fall
into
the turning ...
the
opening
of
spring
the north wind shifts suddenly to the left of you
at 30 mph
and
I
smell
the river
and all those copperline moments
sparked
&
full
distinctly riding upon the backs of sandhill cranes
skin to feathers
wind to home . . . .