the shirt--striped yellow & white
or
maybe it was purple & white
made of wildflowers & whispers [either way]
i stole it from the closet of a boy who dreamed
of great horned owls & stratocasters
pressed between expectation & applause
the shirt
it felt like a cloud in December
cooling & expectant
safe
snow will come
whisper your secret upon my skin
so i become feathered & eternal
some long-legged crane watchful in a golden field
transformation comes with pain
corded & bound to earth
your breath tattoos a silver oath
smelling of earl grey & time
what is this season?
how shiny the scales as they creep & cover these aging bones
sshhh
only ghosts come her now
only the feathered ones who can touch the moon
somewhere in the pocket between the branch & the bird
lies a velvet truth
soft-secretly-intimate
a knowledge a knot a night ringed with a burning smell
of light & dark & winter's forecast
a hollow pressed upon moonlit grass
autumn leaves carry the scent of pine-love
lingering in dreams
caught
somewhere in the pocket between branch & bird
to flatten the crease
refold the life that held you up
you are more than all your parts
but
your parts
hold the magic key that grants you
immortality
cooling moon
shuttered light-well to Oz
captivated
driving walking standing
poised upon a ledge that has become too comfortable
what is it
this change of season?
is it autumn?
ding dong the witch is dead autumn
no
it is more
this otherworldly tincture of days
this moonglow spell of night
casting ancient dreams from yellow school buses & winged horses
constellations shift shadows into suspended seconds
lace underwear, football & fearlessness
casting visions
longing to be 10 .. ok ... maybe 15ish
lanky--full with secret words in my pockets
we make out in grass, on beds, on bikes, in rivers . . because we can
because we are 15ish
well,
you can be sixteen with your tamed arrogance & mahogany bones
the milky way & every nasturtium belong to us
I know what you look like in mornings
and can smell you on my skin
innocence seeds trust long fired in the bowels of mordor & mirth
bodies lithe & limber twined naked--easy
our tongues play cribbage against lips curious
and sure
sure of us
paused on backs flat upon earth sumac-red-deep
and
soft
suddenly
electric panes of glass slide
revealing
home
in
the moon
consumed by sky or passion's glass
piercing -- it splits the day into tenured possibilities
diamonds or dust
stillness stroked to passive perch
arched electric tremors seeking the solace of ash
ancient the wind that comes to heal the wound
slight the hand that stills the sorrow
more often it comes like light
falling upon the floor with lines straight/angled tight
no poetry tonight
he breathes deep sleeping curled in green & dust & day
as i try to untie the remaining knots
shadows swallow the sun at a quarter to five wind stills
he turns towards into the night with promises of respite
while knots become nighthawks soaring to an unchartered home
porcelain berry to willow we fly
sometimes resting, sometimes turning back
to a branch - a spot that felt yellow
or grey
to hold on
or remember ...
movement brings joy & sky wrapping the dust & despair
like midnight in summer
when there are no stars
movement welcomes the breath & the being of
this day
promised to no one
oak to maple to wire we fly
seeking home
or
what feels most like home
closing eyes to the invisible light
of
the
sun
shaking these feathers free of sorrow
hope lies in the crack of contrast & prayer
sing to me of better days that lie folded in leaves
are we bird or branch?
light or dark?
sun or moon?
perhaps we are sky that holds it all
... you dreamed me as i dreamed him
in wool & shadows waiting
how does that work in the field between here and there?
do we belong?
the thing is
i am merely summers dust motes
weltering
belonging everywhere
and nowhere
indigo sparrows alighting between lunar moths
as marigolds bloom
i belong in the golden orange bloom of evermore
trembling green ...
just as i know where i am
i am lost
between the petaled folds with a taste of pennies & sky in my mouth
what is this place?
this plateau of change
one moment replete with vastness and the next
narrow
outlined in sorrow's gaberdine
time rushes unapologetically from branch to branch to sun beams of yesterday
trapped i am in this landscape of age & everything
golden
golden
wait for me there
were you there?
with textures soft
green t-shirt striped shorts short skin fresh as sixteen
to sixty
fireflies light this room where you sit
legs gambled crossed with a face I know as yours
tilted back to night
rising
bending to you
there is kiss that travels thru time
to
this
foggy summer morning like a song that won't go quietly ....
were you there
in that diamond dream night?
the space between the trees & me
filled with morning's haze
a stillness transcendant
verdant breath carries the call of the blue jay into my marrow
filling
stilling
every cell & particle between the trees & me
abundant the air
this dense gray dawn
awaiting the sun ....
when it rains in june and the trees delight
anthems shimmering from drenched leaves
as birds sing to the grey
such is this day
a dog barks revealing the spaces between here
and there
echoed overcast arched green & greener
where do clouds go when it all goes to grey?
where should i ...
go
if i linger for a beat longer than a blink
if i close my eyes & conjure a space boundary-less & undiscovered
full of light
full of darkness
smelling of summer & salt
there you are
taking up the invisible corners
whispering to the day with an nearly imperceptible shadow
clinging to me like a dust mote that lands at three o'clock in the afternoon
finding its home upon my shoulder
light darkness summer salt
you are my summer grass
my small spark of everything outside the lines
some, let's linger and talk of radical bees & possibilities
there you are
i sat inside the hive and listened to the air of just afternoon
tangible tremors of a westerly breeze bringing rain
and a measure of grace
abundant robins scattering songs amidst the overcast
weighty seems the day
the heart can hardly absorb the wonder present
in one breath
one moment
one birdsong
June days when the wind comes out of the southwest
hot--smelling of highways & old diners
the pony runs between the white line & the sage
time sweeping the hours to twilight
as the sun transforms skin to golden shadows
ageless
possibility stretches from horizon to hope
and back again
how wild these days
how tender the ride
grab the tail
comet up!
maple's whirligig a-light
canopy of green delight
drenched in spring honey whisperings
nothing belongs
nothing is too much
when traveling
at the speed of emptiness
waiting watching i remember from such an early age
peering out into the darkness to sorrow's tucked in far off corners
a knowing unknowing pressing pulling of stars
unlit
needing more
wrapped in flannel
wrapped in pink guidance quested unblinking
sureness of a valley lost to views earthly tangle
rest becomes a tempest of strange seeking
or
being sought amid the shadows
caught
at morning's radiant beaming bright
meadowlarks wake the wonder of each & every color
while rows & rows of iris bloom magnificent
under a moon
who remembers the night ....
one moment to mark the line between what was
what is
hands nesting
seeking refuge from emptiness & fullness
now tangled in cottonwood
&
patterns of
moonlight
we become another--untorn unbroken
as peonies at daybreak
wear me like sweet blue silk and I will sing you free
this place
that stings as three blue jays fly overhead
each movement swollen with clouds
rain comes
later
after it grows quieter
stingier
sharp not sharp
this place
am i hollow or have i merely become a cloud
dense with vapor cooling
cooling
are my eyes open or closed against the lack
of sun
where are the birds now?
here -- feathers tucked against my breastbone
holding their quiet breath
becoming clouds
what is this place?
this bardo of quiet
this palest endless plain
every direction looks the same
every breath electric
broken
searching for some token
necessity
apology
where does the love go now?
in this realm of quiet ...
it smelled of rain this morning
through the darkness of an open window before dawn
there it was
that heady remarkable scent
riding rising on the south wind
opening cracks between time & need
sticking there to pull
to draw one aside into a well of
morning wonder
no forecast of rain
only sun & warmth
by the time the sun rises
the smell has become a cardinal song
and I have returned ...
to tell you of the sweep of sensations that take my breath these days
how the green of grass carries a deeper green
the sky is vaster
the heart beats faster
to tell you of opening the blue jar of multitudes
-- their colors --
shapes --
and the weight of dust & shame
-- relieved
removed --
and
how loss cuts sharper
longings departure
wish I could tell of the sweetness of small hands
and the brilliant love thrumming there
(but you probably know that)
how as the sun breaks thru the west windows it
brings
a radiant moment's prayer
look at how the wind scatters the blossoms of the apple trees
to tell you ...
capricorn rising to a gemini sun
lake begotten overdone
misplaced nuture
storylines
telephones & tomato vines
daffodil streets
white bread homes
hopscotch across catholic bones
be seen not heard
between expectations
palomino horse transformation
deer visit amid winter's hesitation
no mud
no lotus
perfection unknown
grey sky morning
coming home
the striations run east to west
or perhaps they are west to east at this time of time
all i know is the light pierces me
seeping into my bloodstream
following the pull of the trembling gravity of this moment
light
quarking & fracting & splitting into channels
to
land in my heart of a thousand suns
to
carry the sky within
sitting next to the last dog
drinking coffee against the dawn
i suddenly become rain
coming on softly
then thunderous
as birds sing of this promised day
grey velvet spring
turn the corner
over the shoulder
the woolen weight of impossibility ribbons the sky
turn the heart forward
toward the sun of love
how to convey the vast grey evermore of a
nebraska sky in march....
swallowing morning's despair, longing
and earl grey tea
stillness
comes after rain
follows the trail
to take you home to golden fields & sandhill cranes
golden golden
pierce me and leave me whole
stay the hand
stay the heart
door ajar
the window sash
words dormat as crocus quiet
the fallowing year
behind yet still silent
each sweeping second
memories drench
this fierce & fragile mirage set
as sparrows and chinook breezes
melt the snow
pulse the breath to passage narrow
new year's wonder glow
lenticular clouds mark the blue
altering hours to silver passages
tucked between oak branches & distant highways
sleepy grows the morning as pine siskins follow the sun
allowing the richness of corners & dust motes to beckon
the stars
carved ring of wood black
summer green grass
horses & tumbleweeds
of first snow smell
handfast
pressed to stars & rivers path
the wonder of heart to night
flesh to air cold with winter's snap
sliding thru the inbetween
time tumbles marbles on a sidewalk
sixty years on
through a lens polished by a winter's sun
one finds an imprint of death traced upon skin grown accustomed to solitude
lacquered by sixty years of summer cherries
and hope
Oh what wonders lie just beyond this day
tucked into time & stars & the smell of blue
what remarkable brilliance rests alongside the cut
so sharp the angle of winter light
deceivingly soft the drifts of snow
weary the day
dark will be the night
following the brightness of this winter sun