Tuesday, July 4, 2017

sun tea of peppermint & licorice

There is a lawn mower mowing
a female cardinal chatting somewhere 

this July sky 
not blue
not white 
too bright 
to gaze at for any length of time 
air heavy with humidity and Baghdad's sorrow 
and 
the 
weight 
of 
forecasted 
rains 

the summer is 
wild 
fierce 
and vulnerable.  

I am dreaming of water 
not blue
not white
but too bright to look at for any length of time  
a boat … sunshine 
and those things associated with you that press against heart & bone 

the lawn mower is still mowing 
and now a wren is calling for her mate

and the rains will come

Monday, July 3, 2017

of two o'clock on the second day in July

the smooth perpendicular curve of the
tap tap tap
paper-white anthems of fireworks
pierced and petaled
staccato hour of day
tap tap tap
periwinkle comes the afternoon
resplendent in its smells of weariness & woodpeckers
the air feels perfect; azure crinoline brilliance
gleaning seeming
tap tap
will it rain later?
of green labyrinth stillness I become
pink aster's sun
awake
and
listening

Wednesday, June 28, 2017

salon #1

fingers graze
Ceres
coneflower
cotton-blue
echinacea tequila sure
robust elixir
sun / shade divine
turning turning spinning time
of more
sweet summer grass beaming
present leaning
to aster's bumble of  morrow's edge
delight of day to pierce the thread
Oh orange cherry blossom moon!
dazzle this dream
lengthen this hour
this everlasting June
gleaning
bewitched with light
spoon-flower bloom
to the edge of lonely
with dreams of autumn
knotted besotted
with dandelion's daughter
who comes to speak of winter here?
violet buttercup mouth of western wind?
olive tongues glancing dancing upon the white birch thigh's of midday?
no cloud lingers against this azure blue surety
turning turning spinning shine
constellations alter
of
blackberry wine


Wednesday, June 21, 2017

mid june

listen,
to that particle fullness
chirping beneath this ecru canvas
expansive
and
rolling, rolling
somedays nothing comes to the surface
but
the clouds of this storm
this rain
falling, falling
cycles & spirals
carousels of summer
thunder comes
once
again


Wednesday, June 14, 2017

dream at five o'clock in the morning

somewhere in the sculpted hole that is the moon
i fall
pressing hands against soil
feathered wet
from last night's thunderstorm
hail the size of apples pounds
lightening bright as lightening
downpour tempest water rising

i fall
grasping downpours melancholy
gasping fast to thunder booms
earth and feathers blue
hackberry's bark drips drips damp
from patchwork sky
grayest clouds and fireflies

drizzle
the rain abates
birds wake
except the great-horned owl
in the curly willow sighing
to light a comet tail burning
this night adjourning
somewhere in the sculpted hole that is the moon



Monday, June 12, 2017

strawberry moon

what is it that arises when you look around
to find yourself
discover yourself
.... in a meadow of emptiness
too busy watching your footsteps to notice the lack
too busy watching
listening
waiting
attending
too tied in knots to discover the void
suddenly
there you are
nothing pressing pressing in on
nothing pressing out
suspended jubilant molecules
pressing
down down to earth's fire
where is the water?
where is the moon?
where is love's surrender?
what is it that arises when you look around?
emptiness
vast blue-sky emptiness

advance
embrace
call it your name
grasp it
unfurl it
dissolve to it
become it
become emptiness
become vast
             and blue

allow it to unveil
unravel
stripped and tender
you are fire
you are water
you are surrender

you are the strawberry moon 

Thursday, June 8, 2017

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
be still

Sunday, June 4, 2017

in & of part one

timeless enfolding
syncopated rhythms of petaled tender
we turn inward while turning outward
to sun
to the violet edges of linen old
crinkled clasping of celadon hope to breast full-striving
for the sulfur spring
while doubt circles disguised as stardust
we loom fierceness with hands leaning in ....
how can we tender so to such persimmon fragility
while soothing our own feathered fear & bones?
holding in fractal spaces defined by
lips pressed to peach skin pressing protection white white
lean in
lean in
to love in all it's brilliance
to the cutting sorrow path
lean in

Saturday, June 3, 2017

birthdays












I have never been comfortable with birthdays.  Very sharp memories roll across my personal
super-screen of sherbet-tight ruche'd dresses, bobbie socks and birthday hats.  It is when the singing begins, that ballad to birthdays, that I would bolt from the room inexplicably overcome with--something.
Birthdays make me squirm … make me long for quiet, solitary moments near water or mountains or sky.  Recognition became intangible, uneasy, emotional.  Somewhere along the timeline, my psyche determined that to celebrate birthdays--to celebrate myself--with abandon and delight, somehow appeared wanting. I was afraid of the emotion of joy.
But, something is happening. Over the last few years, I am learning how to bend into the receiving, allow room for the gathering of things given: parties, cakes, trinkets, artistry and Love.
I am learning how to make room for not only joy, but for myself.
In receiving, I am softening & leaning into the grace of openness.
It is an expansive and grand thing to be recognized, to be celebrated--to be seen.
To those with the patience and skill to 'teach' me … to love me enough to really know me - thank you.
We should never be afraid of being seen
 ,,,, just don't sing that damn birthday song. 

Friday, June 2, 2017

hide and seek

Larkspur blue clementine sky
cotton crimson ache to sorrow's sigh
respite, repair wounded love's flight
to tie, to bind, to await the coming night

sing to me of linen loose--raw
a song unleashed upon prairie's devils claw
summer heat bears down to corn and furrowed row
rising smoke rings of river's solitary willow

raise ye up upon shoulders brown with rain
raise up the land, raise up the voices tame
fight the dirge,  the weariness left to bind
come the night and sleep is what we find

what we seek becomes not the treasure found
where we place our hearts ties fast and sound
to bone, to marrow this land cries out for one
the moon holds us captive there beyond the sun


when you are sitting in a dark room gazing

when you are sitting in a dark room gazing out into the black night
and one lone firefly lights itself up like the fourth of july over the potomac all belief is suspended all doubts fade and there is a hanging possibility as it moves darting higher and i gasp as it is
beautiful and solitary and perfectly totally oblivious to the rain about to fall the thunder and lightening gpsing its way here to this small wee house on this small wee spot on this enormous big blue marble and all things become mighty apparent like the soul of horses the sureness of you the layered delicate task of parenting how fucking amazing books are
and the ridiculous over-simplification of wicked things like justice water poverty illness camping and lemon meringue pie--ALL become parts of the whole and parts of the something more requiring trust and love and that firefly sparks again and now there is thunder and the thrumming in my heart echoes into that place reserved for you delighting in that contrast of near and far suddenly the WHOLE sky lights up like one BIG firefly promising a crack, a passage a thread of electric brilliance linking time and wonder and all things true and well  this crack this passage is waiting waiting waiting for completion for action and contentment to stay and risk movement
suddenly the firefly has vanished and as the thunder rumbles closer i am ready for a hot bath a good book and to dream of parts of the whole

Wednesday, May 31, 2017

3 o'clock on the last day in march

blue sky gives way
to gray
swelling
blueing jay feathers dark
storm coming
green wavers in threads of morning's glaze
gleaming
steaming summer awaits
from sidewalks paved with broken wonder
thunder calls
to that lunar moth that flickers & dives
against a pearled breastbone
tight
tighter
higher we raise our eyes against the constant sun
shining
rhyming
in cadence of ten thousand sparrows
alight amongst the maple trees branches
now
damp with afternoon rain
vermillion poppies tremble in electric fragility
come  . .
be still with me

blue sky gives way
to
day


tucked










there is this fugitive quality to my hours
tracked
hunted
pursued
stilled
thru webs of mortal fiber & prism fire
scent raw
wet upon the palate of creatures buzzed with steel'd will & death
fate sealed in a chinese-cherry-puzzle-box
thrown to fate on a bluejay"s wing
there … 
nestled between the light & fragile feather bones
lies
tucked .... the scent of mown grass in June
the coolness of cotton sheets
the wonder of beauty
the scratchy pleasure of wool socks
the fine roughness of you
the walnut-salt-home smell of you
honey'd lemonade on my tongue
poems & prose
words looped & rhymed & measured by wit & thunderous swelling
fancy clothes
words ancient & music eternally pressed along the rings of saturn
childish de-light ever-present, ever-there
in the space between
every minute
every hour
and
the blessed secret softening of the sorrow of all things
leaning in ...
leaning in ...
to heart
to radiant space
discovery & secrets i carry nestled between
sunlight
and
these
fragile feather bones 

Thursday, May 18, 2017

weight of air

buttercream
mandarin branches weeping
peeking
blue agate night boiled dry
amongst stars & hurricanes
tempest
reckless
white sails approaching
glass jam marmalade
velvet grenades
lobbed & powdered
by
confectioners sugar'd moonlight
allow the great horned owl
its due
blue agate night




Wednesday, May 17, 2017

golden vessel

transfixed by the rain
captivated by the wind
is this loneliness
    or sorrow weighing upon my moon-bones?
can I trust that the blue sky remains unblemished beyond this veil of storm?
is my sanity or my fantasy bound to yours
with ribbon of saffron and summer?
where do I go when the rains come--plundering my sun, my radiance?
is it there beyond this veil of emptiness?
am I now mere emptiness
     now drenched in forecast and blue jay feathers heavy?
the wind tears through the hackberry tree with thunderous embrace
welcome sorrow,
to the tempered fabric of my morning
welcome
sit--stay awhile
and
have some peppermint and licorice root tea
the wind blows wild

rain becoming sheets of joy




Friday, May 12, 2017

endings on

what is that like ...
to hold space between worlds
dangling molecules of lonliness & blue
ringed in the golden aperture of sun's horizon
sinking resting sinking
illuminated mind--liberated stardust
clinging
clinging
no more
a calling--a journey of blue jay's breath

to become

those candy orange slices that rest
in a red glass bowl on your grandmother's table

what color is the hollow of longing
how do we find the remnants of
childhood's crystal cowboy-pony-brilliance
sinking sinking
transformed to diadems
of
rivers
marshmallow-kisses-bourbon-deep
summer meadowlarks-icing-song
rising rising
to become
vast
blue dark-moon
delight 

Thursday, May 11, 2017

cool morning

talking to the gloaming
beneath black wings
pierced
and
possible
this tumbled place
grasping
clasping
the rope for
purchase
and
prize
feathers found
against the bark of dogs and trees of full green



Wednesday, May 10, 2017

sometimes the dark

fissure widening
light to dark becomes the tendril vine
childhood's vessel
cigarettes & turpentine
water the roses
count to sixty each time
keep your legs together
cigarettes & turpentine
pressing leaf patterns
deep upon skin
sugar rooms of summer thyme
turn the page--burn the fabric
cigarettes & turpentine
tucked golden child
chosen of springtime
solace of sky
cigarettes & turpentine






Tuesday, May 9, 2017

relativity

frost to honeybee
rain on flooded waters 
queen of hearts
         turned upon the southwesterly wind 
wind & water
          weight & welter 
hearts ransomed by love's tale 
corvids & covairs collide in skies 
   prism'd by clementines & cooling 
          cooling 
          cooling 
giving 
getting 
sometimes it falls to the bee in the frost 
to the heart in the wind 
sometimes it falls 
sometimes 
                it rises as feathers 
                from the passenger seat 
hand tucked beneath your blueness 


Monday, May 8, 2017

crossing

I sit in saffron
and
hold a bowl of ancient tone
aged, cold & nodding to the hollow

deciding

warm currents lift me onto the backs of fine-boned fragility
golden-ribboned
heavy with mystery and smelling of pine
time lies in velvet slumbered hope
blue should have been my middle name

pausing

in cool rushing brilliance

pausing

patience is learned despite the hour
dripping amongst
the willow
the lilies
movement requires strength requires strip of ego
requires surrender requires presence

requires

plunging your hands into the earth and feeling the warmth of the day
in coolness grasping
hold to your wound
breathe it in
press it in
then
gently
rise up
and
admit defeat at the hands of mediocrity & fear
yet a conquest of love flirts there along the seams
feels its vibrato
speaking in the tongue of sparrows and stones
run then
run hard
swift
and
jump the west-bound-train & ride the tree-line to vulnerability & boulder creek
wear a cowboy bandana and sing to the quarter moon on a night clear
and
my middle name should have been blue

Friday, May 5, 2017

may basket










it comes as a shock
the soft beating heart
pansy petaled 
fragility inclined 
stark contrast to rain 
tender unfurling 
subject to pain 
spring's soil sentinel
perked awake  
turned towards 
hidden sun 
in day's gloaming break

Tuesday, May 2, 2017

Ceres




structure of
ice mantle and rocky core
lying between Mars & Jupiter
contrast + orbit = presence
no prose
no poetry
no sentimental sparkling bon mot bouillon 
to warm heart cockles
How do you define an art;
a science full-to-bursting
with
compassion, contrition & complexity
hands hinged to hold
to cradle
to tender
and with an innate sensibility 
thru and despite a sparkling-fierce-hope-filled insanity 
pushed pushed 
honing spirit & light
catch and release
craft of ice and rock
simultaneously everything
and
nothing
dwarfed 364 days a year to the whorl & chaos of the ordinary
the temperance of tempers & time
weighing weighing weighing
heavy
struggling to find the funny, find the light .... to love enough 
to tap the spark
the rendering of sorrows cut upon expectation & fullness
the gravitas of choice
acceptance unconditional
love's price to mother
everything
and
nothing 
no prose, no poetry 
merely
ice
and rock 

removed to blue 1962














Everyday 
everyday i would fly to school
everyday i would eat my captain crunch & cinnamon toast
walk out my front door
watching the toes of my saddle shoes, 
i would walk down
the sidewalk to school
the lines metronoming my stride 
like
playing cards on my bicycle spokes
walking along
suddenly
i would be
flying
flying 
high up!
everyday i would fly to school and then home again
above the sidewalk of my cedarberry street
fall, winter, spring ... grey days or blue
clouds of elephants & rivers of current amuse
flying
effortless glide removed from
the lonely
the ache of the knowing
the wounds of goodbye
the wind never cares if your knee socks stay up
flying 
everyday
until i turned 15 
and discovered
skirts 
and
seals & crofts & boys & kisses
and the cut of the knowing & the bruise of goodbye
and
i walked to school
everyday 
but oh how i still wanted to fly 

Monday, May 1, 2017

unveiling green

Three o'clock in the afternoon is the bewitching hour
the neighborhood lies silent
expectant
robins do their robin thing
goldfinches light upon
early May branches
in search of food
and gold
perhaps this is
why I am drawn to the atmosphere outside these ancient windows
I
have
no
idea
maybe
like goldfinches
I'm in search of gold
too
this June I turn
fifty-nine
fifty-nine to a woman is remarkably unremarkable
Some quantum rule
applies to aging for woman
wear this not that
want this not that
emote when appropriate
eat smart
balance everything
respect the inner journey
and
be kind to yourself'
well
and
there's the whole
change the world
thing
which is about legacy than effecting change
(my anarchist bent)
the world is a much different place than the world I knew in my childhood
how convenient
landed upon 'my childhood'
what a clever and circular route to begin
a story born out of today's disregard for the illusive perfect moment to begin a story
when is that exactly?
I have been waiting to write this story for as long as I can remember
from my crib
I dreamed of being a writer
ok, well first I was a dreamer
the writing was etched in the grain of wood floors captured in the enfolded warmth of my father and the smokey-feline light of my mother
someone should have stuck a #2 in my mouth in lieu of a pacifier
my earliest memory is of a dream:
I was in my crib a standard flimsy 50's variety crib, with rounded fluffy cut-out lambs & clouds on the wall blanket pink and white gingham the window was right of my crib from which I could see the family station wagon a low-slung Pontiac station wagon with faux wood insets I slipped over my crib and out the front door down the sidewalk and opened the drivers door of the wagon adjusting myself in the seat I turned the key and began backing out of the driveway suddenly my father tore out the front door flinging the drivers door wide and throwing the gear shift into park as some unidentifiable car pulled in behind me I was vaulted into my fathers arms suddenly realizing I was dreaming or maybe a dream of dreaming dreaming of adventure
or escape
still the question
the bewitching hour has given way
to
pre-twilight
six twenty-two
awake from a nap that left me disoriented and moody
craving something unnamed as the energy shifts in the neighborhood to a steady thrum thrum thrum
folks returning home from work;
Betsy across the way pulling into her circular drive
Chris and Kevin rolling up their drive next door
the birds are cautious and quiet
I'm disoriented and moody--remember?
my days are more observation than engagement
it wasn't always
like that

Sunday, April 30, 2017

April's End















abrasive as the bark of an oak

sharp
grasping

yet we desire to feel that rip of palm

the catch

the cut

helpless

helpless as any ethereal thought

a day-dream perhaps lingering there in the grey breeze
produced by forty thousand currents of light
colliding into a puffball of nothingness

empty-set
stasis

a boiling rumpled cosmic stasis

movement proves heavy
fragile

the residue of of passionate possibility lingers

yet

history repeats and repeats and repeats and repeats

suddenly there is a dance, a shimmy
a flicker of hope
darting

tasting of blue grass

pointing west out of the chaos of this day
this pocket of complacency

hold on

tight

texture discovered

such are pages
of
pressed and watered alchemy

leaf
stem
bud
flower
pressed
pressed again
stirred
smoothed
rinse repeat
dried
in
time
and
sun
rinse repeat
a page
becomes
pages
becomes
a tome
ink presses upon the page
pressed
again
and
again
a story told
in nature's traces
shadow
to
light
to shadow once
again ...


Saturday, April 29, 2017

cassini dive

torn
pearled clustered resilience
constellations array
in
Saturn's ringed display
moon-shadow firmament
decided
jesters wed amidst lemongrass
sea glass
rent & gleaming sorrow
seemingly
open opens
regret tossed to fire
ice to desire melted
no felted broken wing here
hearts & cherry bones intact
leveled golden evermore
thistled valore chasms fast
barnacled
particle bliss
remaining
come here! take my hand!
as
objects can appear smaller
and
of
such
amber verdant dust
stars flannel opalescence
diamond's
resin home
OM MANI PADME HUM











salt cedar wax wing

tale abider
myth glider
smooth berry thief
upon
tamarisk's
slender brined branch
velvet feathers polished
whisper sigh flawless
you wait
poised
1000 years
7000 miles
low-woodland flyer
lost within desert briar
thirsty you must be
greening
preening
your cap of red pearls
oh! so creamy gray
your dazzle
how do we steward your
amaranth oasis?
oh! winged budded wonder
how
do we tame
your abundance?
trill bzeeee
trill bzeeee
you smooth bohemian
trill bzeeee









Friday, April 28, 2017

winter lingers

rain falls
gray clouds call
green trembling pinballs
against spring
uprising
uncompromising
come nightfall
snow has a fling
ice to bring
winter's wall



afterparty

Let the earth bind fast to your nobility rising
Let the vastness of heaven rest upon your shoulders
Let your mind crack apart with wonder
as thought turns to honey
hardened to amber resin
timeless
tempered
by the winter of your bones
lips part, mouth opens
and peregrines fly out
to roost upon those lips
ruby-bruised by feathered intensity
and talons ...
tethered
to
revolution
evolution
and quilted sorrow's shine
we watch
we taste
the azure waiting






Tuesday, April 25, 2017

tucked

Behind the jacquard
white golden chestnut
pressing
pressing
secreted cave of mid-century construct
tucked
my passage of discovery
found
away from day
away from light
stolen from the deepest cut of night
my underground
sprawled beneath
this angled arched canopy
hidden childhood tapestry
moments stolen
from
the ordinary
into words treasured
turn the page
down rabbit holes
and
nursery rhymes
the crevasses of Shangri-La
Five Little Peppers
Tom Sawyer's adventures
Little House on Prairie mine
A Wrinkle in Time
I am little
yet
beneath my hands
the world awaits
turn the page
escape
the
pressing
pressing
white golden chestnut
construct
turn the page
~ become ~











Monday, April 24, 2017

lapin d'mal













Eschewing the drolleries for something finer 
no easy task
no evil bask 
prone to darkness dementia claims 
no venture towards the dark today 
upon wild mad dogs & snails they rode 
carrying parts 
of
owl tarts  
wrens of gold & crimson leaf 
to battle man and all he seeks 
Come ye rabbits look to the Sun! 
leave your dark 
forego this lark 
meditate on something finer 
find this day your tales brighter 







Friday, April 21, 2017

the first time ever i saw your face

it would have been easier to not love you
easier to grasp the boundaries & channels of citrine
away from the tangle
away from the amber-walnut of your thighs
easier to hear your name in unlikely places
to visit the spaces
pressed between thunderstorms
and
the glimmer of rainbow trout
reel to reel imprints
coloring outside the lines
unrecognized
uncharted
easier to connect the blue to gray
yesterdays
to
the cinnamon cardamon carousels
shadows whirling undetected
heartbeats
undiscovered
this laced romance
this whatever .... feathered necromancy
no democracy
only nuanced fantasy
timeless
breathless
ever poised upon the wire-razor ledge
it would have been easier
to not
love
you
love you


Thursday, April 20, 2017

tabia

One hundred and twenty-one rules
castled angst brimming anarchy
resplendent in violet & linen
back pressed against the unforgiving width of you
hot--pissed--weakness
folded in revolution's temperance
fuck off you jovial duffer
allow me to wallflower here amidst
the bone whiteness of lost memory
hunted
pursued lady
arched & leaning into somnolent disdain
sacrifice the play or the piece?
time squared becomes love's blunder
Oh brevity!
Oh bare mad king!
defer to my stubborn brilliance
from this perched edge of fortress forced
surrender
winged redemption
walked
and
won


Wednesday, April 19, 2017

how a bird learns its song

small silent quiet the day no stirring no whisper stilling the surface of things light refracted reflected air becomes tangibly feathered warm against the surface of things rippling the water slightly softly pressing green of things building building opus major roaring swelling turning dust across the surface of things thick blinding storm of things blue to dark bluer to gray to darkness tumbled to rain streaming in torrents pounding relentless thunder pelting wonder lightening striking across prairie and plains riotous unrelenting whipping wildness untethered to puddle upon the surface of things golden and greening and ripe with waiting a break in darkness a crack of light piercing brilliance arrowed on horizon tangerine pink shining small daring this day replete a meadowlark sings 

Tuesday, April 18, 2017

wren

willow
marbled crispsure
seeped--stirred
melting brillog becomes you
then
fallure
and
sallow
--like old leather
tertain zymetry traced
--tatterloor--
Oh!
reshine again there
held against the bast & darriage of silver
how swell the brulluminated daring of winged things
pierced & geather
for my darning daring plocks
delight in the wondgreen versimox
spidance under the rays of day
evergloor
you branched brarthborn kin
aubade



larghetto

unbuckle the pretense vermillion
tumult stilled
to allow
soft
rain
settling undisturbed
unwind--redefine
this day
innocence surrendered
tendered
unto
this easy coming night
now
twilight
as stars align-shine
with pace placed
and
drowsy
electric
lips
pressed-pinked
willing
darkness
to hover-cover
there
in
the corners
of
waking trees
shadows
lengthen-question
relevance
slowing-growing
redemption
walk with me ....
until we are lost
to
the forecast
of
this indigo evening





Friday, April 14, 2017

lest we forget!

Joseph Rudyard Kipling
acquired a bee-sting
writing atop a pachyderm
nary a  squirm! 

Thursday, April 13, 2017

who will emerge after the fire


This revelry of chagalled chimera ghosts circling
dancing, kicking up dust in jangled illusion circling

blue. day injects into veins unfolded to Spring
twirling, bejeweled in teasing hyacinth. circling

steps quickened--anchored to an ancient tune born
bending, melting to rhymes riffed and circling

dreams forever illusive & veiled by razored demons.
idyllic diamonds dusty in mandarin silks circling

following the revelries of fools, lovers & brotherly bites
of tender injustice. leading, circling

sapphire blue escapes from lips peeled & acquiesced
stumbling, falling to magnetic futile attempts circling

this dance of amaranthine dreams. oh! jestered & gypsied
surrender--captivated by the odyssey prize circling

this revelry of chagalled chimera ghosts circling
circling this diamond sparrow circling,
circling.


Wednesday, April 12, 2017

the scent of rain

rain weighed by wights & weather gray
petrichor pulses upon frayed senses casting tight
pressed against sun's breath & light
shining--pressed to fractures opened wide
this night

ravens & wrens rest in throat's hollow
particular that smell sharp-shimmered--bright
thunder awaiting May and the nest of mallow
lingering languid on tongues tied
this night

thick the morning comes calling soft
lovely this light filtered by forecast
subtle shift the sun slinking shimmer lost
drip, drizzle, dark and vast
becomes the day
this day pulled from night




















Tuesday, April 11, 2017

Jess and the Pink Moon




My grand mother's paint-by-number sits upon a walnut shelf 
Somehow I still hear the call & pull from somewhere deep down South 
earth crochet lies idle in a vintage chair weaved plaid 
these walls lean in to tell me such tall tales of what I had 

feathers from Algiers 
pork belly home 
sweet potatot swing-sets 
love growing old 
sureness by the fire
bloody marys at noon 
rain on Sunday 
April Pink Moon 

Solitary I slumber in this ancient French brass bed 
flannel for my pillow — grey dog by my head 
memories flicker bright & then they flicker dim 
of prairie fields in springtime 
and 
wild fates tempest whim 

feathers from Algiers 
pork belly home 
sweet potatot swing-sets 
love growing old 
sureness by the fire 
bloody marys at noon 
rain on Sunday 
April Pink Moon 




Caelum

The desire to grasp the glimmer if for only a beat, a pulse
of smooth encircling light before allowing the liberation
allowing the evaporation to shimmer--become cerulean
cerulean = copper + colbatous oxide mixed & mingled upon a palette
canvas endless of prairie to sky to river wide widening widest
hold fast this pearled moment trembling in forgiveness lost

dimmer than sky blue and azure where the overlap is felt as morning

To clutch--catch the breath hot--hopeful on the capture
there within hands crepe'd and crinoline loomed in sleep
enfold the burst for a beat, a pulse before the stark primordial beauty of
opening knocks the westerly wind from sternum & throat to release the grasp
desire sharped and pressed from gravity, luminous the love comes
crashing, thundering & colliding as stars shift to form constellations
of gods & heroes to cloud our hearts with the scales of verdant regret
green is the actual color of the sun bursting its gleam upon our open hands

dimmer than sky blue and azure where the overlap is felt as morning

Once loose, the glimmer boundless becomes
the thrumming of the day, the ripple of domed-sky of waking-earth of river winding
ceaseless & circling in splendor blueness reflected reflection glistening
towards those nameless, absolute things not mentioned among true companions
except when pirate-punch-drunk on love cracked open as desire shape-shifts
love lies in the gap, a bridge waiting for the next beat, a cerulean glimmer returning

dimmer than sky blue and azure where the overlap is felt as morning


















Monday, April 10, 2017

norma elaine













a long time waiting 
should have been easy for her
visit this world
take a bow 
an appearance make 
child's play
to
stir the pot
dim the lights
touch my back
change the damn temperature
waken the cat ....
visited by the ethereal & transparent all her life 
she was sure.

i remember the tales of wraiths & the ceiling dwellers
in girlhood bedroom
beige, white-golden dancing
talking with her
teasing
with promises of strange dark travels
wisping in & out thru luxurious stucco walls
wrapping themselves in the rough, bark embraces
of those huge linden trees pillared alongside the house
she could pick up on the most subtle & delicious of ghostly signs 
to her there was nothing benign
why can't i 
what am i missing 
is she there 
am I too disconnected to tell 
damaged
not gifted
have i missed the signs?
or 
does she dwell closer 
behind aqua eyes 
barefoot with a fairy's reflection