fresh-squeezed-morning

trust me .....
of what lies beyond that space
a cut so deep it does not bleed
but swells
changing the structure of soul
allow me my insignificance
and
in that
there is freedom
purpose
resolute & strong
passionate awareness streams out from
every every cell
painting moments in
something unknown-undiscovered-unnamed
sureness rests upon my hips & heart
fierceness finds my bones
yet confidence alludes me still
scars are but badges that mark our journey
slicing out our primitive course
highlighted in blues & greens
trails of light beckon
as
robins sing in sweet-deer-sunshine
a breath is taken
trust of self restored
ego-less & stripped of desire
risk
new
scarred
knowing

healing ,,,,,

unhooked

I 

float
inflated by the breath of Desdemona
and
whispers uttered from lips chapped by
truth & mango salsa
untethered
no copper wires hooked into skin thin & forgiving
objects seen from Venus
appear
smaller & more harmless than they do
in
mirrors
and other shiny things
winds define the welter
as
movement smells of dandelion snow & blackbirds
buoyant & sustained 

I am the rising
and
the fall . .

a crocus emerges

somewhere along the lines
between today and 2009
you got the best of me
might have gone to others with a thicker ribbon tied
against the shore of sinew & sorrow
and yes, it goes back further than that
back to when moonlit & grass fell upon my back
time paused in that collide
trembled wonder imprinted
imprinted there ... stop. there.
there
reflection holds no prize
one love escapes the price
should'a
could'a
would'a
remained half-human
but instead became immortal under your wings
feathered with the antiquity of amber
even gossamer lingers sometimes
you got the best of me
between whispered goodbyes
teasing entreaties & lullabies
imprinted there.
i thought you got the best of me
but
i
am
the best of me

i am the sun as it moves across the blue-green jacquard
i am the smell of ground waking
sorrow quaking
its trembled spectrum shimmers
beneath my aging scars--faded to pearls
under this Aquarius sun
a crocus comes ...

45P/Honda-Mrkos-Pajdušáková

sharp 
distinct the smell of this waking ground 
stark 
this night sky
domed endless
joined 
to blue-green luminescence 
masked by shadows
ash to bark 
owl's call echoes off brick & bone
walking
quiet returns
thrumming
pervading 
steps muffled by 
the envelope of leaving winter 
the song of this full snow moon 

discovery ...

Obedient
obedient & folded with perfection & promise upon the lean, sure assumption
that i could trust
the patriarchal cords that hung like blue balloon strings from my sky
my sky ...
obedient & voiceless
possessed by sensual demons & an artists hand
sculpting worlds & avenues of desire
to a god that did not respond to love or lean mercies
ruching, roses & a chained longing for something more marked
my skin as tiny & fragile as the bones in the wing of a sparrow
hold on
hold on and wait
age will bring fury & resistance, awakening & mischief
youth's wild canter & trust
gives way to
this moment where anything is possible
the dog suddenly barks into the night
and
the
electric camphor of forgetfulness is forgiven once again

cartology

skin
carries the geography of significance & sorrow
to compare, define & ascend
how to erase the trail of a touch?
the cut of realization?
the tracks of the spark & the knowing?
... a path, a mark, a line, a pull - a scar
how is it that the grey, the snow and the bite of winter make it deeper
raw & bruised
there is an ache for the melt & a return of warm winds
to round the edges, shift the foundation
bind the wound
draw the map
trace the contours of connection with a sharp pencil of redwood
shade with pearl
color the valleys in myrtle & emerald
consider the water
outline its phenomenology in blue
leave space
acknowledge the groove
wait for the golden glow