Thursday, February 23, 2017

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 ,,,,,

Tuesday, February 14, 2017

unhooked


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 . .

Monday, February 13, 2017

Epitaph










scrape the black ink, those particles of bits & pixels from the white white white
scrape them into the mason jar kept in your pocket
for
summer's fireflies & lunar moths
tumbled brilliance secreted for the corner-times, the grey days of winter long
scrape
and
hold the lid down tight as you press it to the fire-line
skin allows such porous knowing
lean against the trail of snow along the willow bark
lean & fill
with the enormity of the domed misty gray
capture this biting chill, this clutched sting
shake the jar
and
de-light
in the ordinary comfort
of
chaos & contrast

Sunday, February 12, 2017

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 ...


Saturday, February 11, 2017

of sixes & sevens . . .


I lost my anger in the corner pocket of table six
or maybe it was in june of '68 ... in the red cadillac on the way to the parade
better to be invisible under stars & wooden desks
than to be seen for a creature dressed
in cyan & tattered sensitivity
able to absorb sunlight at a rate greater than or equal to
the speed of light
I am forgetting my mother's middle name:
Elaine

anger was eaten with violets for breakfast in june of '68
just after my mouth was washed out with soap for saying "shitshitshit"
merely imitating the song of meadowlarks eating violets for breakfast
Elaine

Elaine
give to me your feathers & your strength
your wit & whiskey-wisdom orange paisley'd
smelling
of pine & sunshine & tomatoes

I lost my anger curled up behind a sofa at midnight
wearing flannel pajamas & watching the world in black & white
roll past
on a radio flyer
sunshine me home life o life ....
sunshine me home to the corner pocket of table six
touch my cheek
Elaine
Elaine
I am my mother's name

Friday, February 10, 2017

45P/Honda-Mrkos-Pajdušáková


sharp 
distinct the smell of waking ground 
stark 
this night sky / domed endless
joined 
to the 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 

eclipse 

me 


Thursday, February 9, 2017

white on white

there is a place to lay it ...
here upon the white on white
crosshatched text replete with pause
darting as gray finches about the birch
spilling seed from beaks too impossibly small to matter. Much.
dart, feed, flight ....
feathers litter the ground
impossible to pick up with cold fingers
as words so oft stall within their tips
paused--waiting for more air? more feathers?
here upon this page I leave my emptiness, my fullness ....
sorrow & sight
wonder & weariness
a lament for the yellow-tinged memory of wind & weight
however,
i have also dumped words as a velvet bag of marbles
sparkling, dull and difficult
into his capable-steeled arms
too cumbersome
too vined & untethered
too mercury-silver
forgive me and thank you
for
there is a place to hold it
give it a name & pin it in place
only to lose it amongst the debris that is forgotten & frayed
there is a place to lay it
these words & weather
here alongside the fault-line of tender allowing ....
be mine
white on white 

Wednesday, February 8, 2017

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

Tuesday, February 7, 2017

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




Monday, February 6, 2017

one spring day in winter when .....

Is hard to write of sorrow that
knows the depth of three thousand years
from stardust to rooted human
braided, branded, shackled and fallen
thriving on rebellion's call
Oh! the mercy and grace of compassion's armor
truth feather wings
slick with sweat
and the blood of pathos
no reason
unreason
cooling tides of design
here within this sculpted heart
of
breath and beat
we strive
Oh!
we strive
Oh fingers spill the words
that rest in bones white and weary of winters bite
awaken to the eros-ink of black night
thick
with
promise
and
coming moonlight ...
Oh sorrow, you cloaked, elusive imp
tucked into the maple's shadowed root
golden shrine of narcissus tease
this battle cry of equipoise ...
Oh!