Wednesday, January 31, 2018

nocturne #437

where is this landscape
of concrete moons and linen stars?
what galaxy suspends
the corporeal against the delectable
between golden plains of breath
your form lies curled--naked upon a snowy owl's bed
of winter's wait and gather
i am a feather there


your scent pervades the shadows--
whiskey, apples, airports
your perfection belies
your mystery
your fierceness

form transformed rising
steel oatmeal morning
this field between suns
moons and lives
exists beyond rhyme
beyond the compression of moments lost and found
over and over again
we are here
between the concrete moons
and linen stars

Wednesday, January 24, 2018

the dance of light upon snow

and nurtured to breast & bone

or not

distanced by arms that prefer the sun to the surrender
we adapt
carving initials in our plucked skin to honor the uncaged
we kneel before the altars of amber glances & storybook romances
becoming velvet

brush the nap one way--and it appears
from within
brush the nap the other--shadows deepen
whispering in feathered tongues

survival is dependent upon the surrender in direct measure
to marrow & sunlight
imprints are rendered--pressed upon skin prone
the burn of stars as they hang over fields of forgiveness & dandelions

Oh come now the waking breath!
the trembling shimmer of sighs & goodbyes
we burn for the softness
the cradle of arms forgotten

brush the nap
shake out the dust from the cage
sing a ballad to prairie & sky

rise sparrow


of grief and blue . . .

of what purpose is sorrow


why are there spaces that feel so ripe with its weight & darkness

are we here merely to discover how to rise

tracing back to our bone the imprint of feathered things

how do we honor indigo stories without taking on the wound
gathering to soul-fast the shavings
molding our vision to see thru to other side

folding & unfolding
gather, release

to experience the quest
learn how to rise

on feathered things 

Friday, January 5, 2018

nine to twelve to fifteen

filled you leave me
thrashing in my own skin against my felted nest
cornflower crinoline 
is this 
the pastel ribboned morning 
east to west beyond the maples & oaks 
chill snap chill snap 
quiet neighborhood hold fast to this winter sun 
this tempered land 
hold fast