Friday, December 29, 2017

little hours

pots & pans hang upon a pipe of copper
there against
a
window that writes poetry
every day
at quarter to eleven
cardinals, wrens & blue jays
memorize the words to recite
in frosty hushed whispers to the moon
while frost builds in direct proportion to the time it takes
to wake

knit one pearl two
licorice tea & pomegranates

daylight comes on sugar-snap cold
snowing but not snowing
silver fogged--still in this
lace-wing landscape
hour's blueprint remains the same
remains the same
knit one pearl two
from pause to task to pause to task
licorice tea & pomegranates
routine belies the jubilation found in every step
every every breath
each golden fractal outlined in
frost
and winter's tale
held there against a window that writes poetry
every day
at a quarter to eleven

a blue jay flies from my mouth
wings singed by
wonder
and
becoming




Wednesday, December 27, 2017

The shape of a snowflake is determined primarily by the temperature and humidity at which it is formed

six-fold radial symmetry
radical decision
to fall
to cohere
or
stand alone/pouting--resolute
falling
tempered droplets at -13°
welcome to planet earth
this grand golden prairie awaits your drift
your crystal blessing
rivers & wetlands tremble
winds whip what gold remains
ground to gravity gained
gold to silver to more silver
falling
frozen nucleus calling to some
primordial splendor
winter's alchemy
falling
falling
here
catch it upon your tongue
and taste time
captured
in bright
petaled perfection

here


time complexities of recursive snow algorithms

branched lace-wing longing
replete with the vessel'd trinkets of december
wind whips leaves to golden everest piles tucked along
fence lines

imaginary lines

bordered by ice ice baby

tasting of salted-caramel-waking-dreams
walking down streets
gathering wool & wonder

walking

wind again

from somewhere a song comes--hardly discernible
over the expectation

wind again

bracing shards
press the chill to bone & breath
northerly wind

again

knows no whispers
carries no regret
means no harm

how sharp the spill the archer's cut
pierced
walking

lace-wing-longing

through the woods of you

lost i have always been
sweet cherry basket left upon the forest floor
abandoned to the solitary
tempting to creatures wild & determined
why have i waited here for so long
for you to bite?
what is the pull?
the intrinsic desire to be gobbled whole

come to me thru your brambles and thorns
come to me with edges raw & blackened

your dark fits felted within my light
gray we become

i grow weary & cold with no skin
about these silver bones
lost
found
sweet cherry winter waiting 

Wednesday, December 20, 2017

solstice

some days the brush stroke is wide
the paint layers upon the canvas fiercely
thick
bold
decisive
my grip sure
the paint blue
heaven becomes earth becomes heaven
another stroke
brings
the smokey haze of forgiveness
thicker
bolder
ridges reveal fearlessness
the space between
reveals
the sun

winter becomes heaven becomes earth
grip loosens
to the crispness of
becoming blue





Tuesday, December 19, 2017

a piece of sky












Oh December your bite & sting!
landing upon skin diamond-white from late afternoon clouds
scarlet-berry-blush flaring
to the snap & blast of crystals falling

cold
it is cold

wind strips the corners of tethered ponies & silver possibility
linen becomes the sky becomes surfaces left exposed to elements harsh & unforgiving
fold inside & fold & fold & fold again to discover . . .
what?

candy-sparkly-peace

become
forgive

capable wholeness / fragility tendered to the ice
peace on earth
bliss to beasts
warmth of heart
to all

Defined

I will be a 72 degree day at 3 o'clock on an October afternoon
lying against you like Levi 501's
with one oval warm spot on the back of your right thigh where my hand fits

perfectly

I will be sunshine warmly speckled-brilliant on the weathered wood floor
as wind whips & shimmers the maple outside
I will be a bike ride sleek & silent
  beating back the wind & the world like a 13 year old superhero named Lilly Alabaster
I am music coming from around the corner, down the hall
music that hits the sternum
  scooping a trench straight to the heart and reaching down, down
  grabbing a hold of
your golden core

always the music

I will be sheets cotton-cool-crisp that toss & invite
I will be rain pounding, pounding down intense & grey
with a thunder-green petrichor rising
I
will
be

 and

I will not for one minute forget the sureness of an embrace or the roller coaster ride promised
  or the wonderland of this path
nor
will I demand maple syrup on a July night as
monarch butterflies find their home
in December

I am the gypsy-child-joy of hot chocolate
  wool mittens & rosy-cheek-snow-fort-building
the gingersnap of a winter walk
iridescent
and
glimmered--pearly-blue
magic & timeless
I am the view looking up thru Christmas tree lights from the floor
and when it is seven degrees below
I am flannel-sheet-surrender
fuzzy & plush like new white socks
  surrender's silence
here
perfectly outlined
pulled
scored
tucked
wrapped
Defined

Thursday, December 14, 2017

swell

brimmed & rolling
awash in gray softness
snowflake martinis & little fires
pages smelling of daydream's silver snap
resting in chaliced hands
holding
enfolding
these dusted minutes
may i have another?
one more flight alongside the songbirds
of this winter day
ash wings disappear against the sky
gray to gray
there is no sun today
only mercury



9:49 on a december morning

















some days reflect
white on white
white to brick-red briskness bites

clarity lingers upon the landscape of loss
opalescent
pearled

knit-one-pearl-two

wind is still
snow shrinks to whisper pools of winter
softly

it is childhood : folded in & dripping joy through holes pierced by an ache so large it fills the sky with blue blue rolled up & spilling upon land frozen & waiting

knit-one-pearl-two

crispness becomes home becomes bone
as
a wren comes and sits upon this folded day
blue-blue rolled up & spilling

knit-one-pearl-two