Thursday, June 28, 2018

removed

i have found a bolt of cotton to wrap about me
between bones & blood
along the meridian lines
around
around
tucked against a saffron dawn
muggy & dense this day
as i sit insulated by this renouncing
this suffrage pressed & pounded

sometimes
the softest things are the hardest to penetrate


did you know the first desserts were candies of raw honeycomb & dates











( i agree with you )
maybe it's in the knowledge of both:
the customary & the confection
that lets us consider the potatoes & the pie
wholeness is found in their contrast
the m.c.escher of it all--how while examining one thing
you suddenly realize
something else lies there beyond that line--
no negative space
both equally important in their own unique way
the grace & glory of the everyday vs. the stuff of dreams
black & white
shadows & light
the honey-bee to the frog
the box of paints to shades of grey
the bruise & the blush
yin/yang
dinner to dessert
coming to love the contrast in life & love has defined the beat of my days
learning patience
and
how to fold myself inside out
tethering myself to the expected with a warrior's sense of obligation
the desire to be present
to the role, the rules & the respect to this place called comfortable

( which is only so ... )

all the while knowing that no one ever learns or grows in that place called comfortable
no one ever takes mighty cosmic leaps while in stasis
on the edge between the contrast is where the real journey begins
where bone becomes a blossom & where trust becomes a golden blade of sunshine
-- an apt description--
having to get to the other side & to love regardless
to risk playing the fool
to risk ego & significance
to love
through the stillness & the reality
excavating to the core of tangible while knowing there are things we can not see
and trusting that beam of truth
trusting the almost inhuman intimacy that wraps our moments in blue
trusting the pull, the surrender, the acceptance, the taste
the heat & the snow
trusting the contrast
the mystery
where wholeness lies...
obligation & release
shadows & light
fire & air
earth to sky
dinner to dessert

in the box of paints

296 days














these voilet-ringed hours
fierce & far-flung
missing becomes thunderous
needle
spinning
in direct proportion to the tangerine yearn
lines erase

love remains the same ...


Friday, June 8, 2018

prayer #60718

Wish
there could be more equanimity
more amethyst mornings & feathered things
wish i could hum away the clouds that obscure
blurring
joy from your mind
wish there were no poverty
of things that darken & blind
wish there were no disparity
of perspectives shadowbox lines
golden echoes rising
slumber sweet surprising
breezes tempered
waters stilled
soften
listen
filled

We come with diamonds rough--hidden
buried along sinew & bone
we strive for what is forbidden
nobody knows
the one thing more that
will break us
bend us
or
make us ...
soften
listen
still

Oh Child of the Stars
of what & who we are;
we are of
sky & night
tender green roots
in flight
dragons--orbs
vessel & spark
blue jay calling amongst the trees
a leaf
of dust
and trust

Love
softens
listens
love the wish

still







Thursday, June 7, 2018

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

Tuesday, June 5, 2018

60

i dropped my words amongst the cabbages & romaine on saturday
and
then
it rained
one inch
one sleep
filled with lightening's thunder
as the words scurried under the marigolds for cover
boom boom
they should have tried the basil as the leaves are wider
but words are sometimes at a loss
i wish they would discover the lavender or
perhaps
the orchard
where some night creature delights in the serviceberry's new leaves
light chartreuse with a touch of green
real green
as if dipped in eternal spring
my words are evermore spring
waiting to be found
consumed by the emptiness of three o'clock in the afternoon
and
tumbled
towards
the
blue blue sky  

scene three






















everywhere a tingling pocket temple
rock words paving
lines define
paths taken
under
the 

shine thrown from a moon beam
mirrored in ink waters possible
and
the quartz city rising rising 
lives scripted
outlined


except


one never can quite predict
the play
of
light 

shadow
and
the sudden pull toward a new line
a forgotten curve
heart blue silver kissed lightening



ArT by Marta Pelrine-Bacon
http://wordsareart.wordpress.com/