when you open the hand that grasps

is it ever enough?

the lingering in the darkness?

what happens when you misplace the amber?
when one's own luminous light becomes enough to open...

the trope of letting go bleeds slowly across time
a mystery resin cured by loss & longing

is it ever enough?

the robin sings its forecast simple & soft
against the press of thunder & daylight
your goldenness is illusive
love's mystery recedes to the edges of my tongue

living with enough
brilliant the ring of fire
rich the day 

Alone

Pressed to the edges of the hedgerow
smoothed gesso'd field laid pristine in its awakening

Spring

heralds a whiteness born of shadows
birch tree lined
labyrinthine
to be lost is to found and lost again

here I remain
resolute

unyielding in my discomfort made blue
by this May Sky Morning 

self as girl

still
the girl in school who gets picked last
too tall
too skinny to be good or fast

at anything

listening to led zeppelin & csn&y
too much perfectionist to really know why

...to swing the bat
...to take a shot
discover a way to untie the knot

deep inside
perfection instant
too blond
too weird
and oh so much fear

knowing i had landed on the wrong planet
cat stevens & james taylor my constant companions
all the while peering over the edge of soul's canyon
playing at self & pseudo attraction
tidy & pink in lace pajamas
(tempting the wild, tending the fire)
serving kings & polar bears, little joe & yogi bear
listening to the whispered desperation of the lost & terrified
heart wrapped in glass & thorn'd armor pride

but right there, all along for all to see on heart's sleeve
silent
(everyone assumes apathy)
(emptiness)
(blue ice coolness)
it is a pounding feeling that trembles the earth
paralyzing
rising
tapping into something bigger--brighter--a shaky joyous mirth

is there ever a master plan?
is there a reason?

too much of everything
perfection the mask
resilience the game
not about who gets picked first at all
but who stands alone
with 

a pink lace pajama-heart & wildfire throne 

chartreuse & blue

swallowed I am
by chartreuse and  blue

awash
in these beams of day
sunlight streams to bones and qualling thoughts
becoming blue
becoming transparent green
holding holding
thrumming to the sounds of wrens & sky
shattering sorrow into a million tiny pieces
of
blue 

turn of the card

the crone's bones become my own

raven-feather-black as december's midnight 

no gradual mutation ... no

it is now 

this ancient hourglass impact 

a single cello plays somewhere to the west 

and 

I tremble at the quake of the redbud's leaves 

quixotic felted breath of breeze
upon skin freckled & creased
where in furrows hide 

regret, loss & redemption 

pale knots of celtic myth & mingle 

as prism'd comes the day
brittle the knowledge of sacrifice
buoyant the joy of love
in these crone bones 

May Day

the upheaval surprises
did not see the knot of this tangle
threaded of nettle & pine
able to hold the two strands apart
sand-bar in a stream
two strands not touching
contentment
and
the slightest cut of grief
as if we buried something precious & young
in a sand-bar .... in a stream
this upheaval
this tale
how weathered & unrequited
this is what it is like
this side
of the knot