hymn to midnight o'clock

     Dear particles of stardust, train rumblings and the low drone churn of car exhaust as it moves back and forth on a night remarkably chilly and tasting of every clear mercury-autumn night for the last thousand years, Dear air that I breathe, I have for too long focused on the order and the line of things, the right of things, the rhyme of things, I have listened to good music, but ignored the secret quiet beating of my own heart, I have watched the work of others, the dance of others while silencing my own feet, taking my own desire to leap into the prism'd waters for granted, I have tempered my territory believing I am only just so capable, I have apologized for getting things wrong and for being too too human when really really I am an enchanted being with wings strong enough, legs swift enough, and heart soft enough to carry the combined weight of wings and wonder to 138 million miles above the whispered leaves of the curly willow outside my window, Dear bones I will push you into years of morning sun dappling the landscape of plains and prairie to rest a little, lean a little and carry the folding fragility of this moment, this moment bigger,  truer - becoming golden.   

thinking 11:11

i am sometimes surprised
at the softness of my skin
certain places contain no trace of solar flares and breathing
merely the rise and fall of weather systems over the prairie
and
a certain give … and take
nubile hardley seems the word
yet
yet ...
there is a timeless cadence in the sensation of need
though my hand lacks the rough mastered determination of yours
… so
i smile
and turn to the sun 

waxing crescent in scorpio

Sliver of moon
evening falls
and it carries upon it the barest chill & screech owl song
fleeting dusk it is ....
removing us from the coarse, narrow existence of our day
allowing us to
breathe
breath and release
to feel
to give
to be
the chill settles about the what remains of green-growing-things
and the ivory blossom of knowing
wait for me ...
just beyond that curious twisted tree
as i am meant to hold that hand
& tender your worries
slow your pace and
wait
for
me
as i once found the strength & ability
to wait for you
and then we'll dance . . . .

night visible

willow-curly with trembled femininity
pursued against the chipped & sullen eaves
sun upside-down as a hedge-apple-cake
words buried under the yellows & red of fall
f
  a
     l
        l
           i
              n
                 g . . .
frost eager at the gate of laurel bark
as
porcelain berry sings of
indigo-blue stillness
a dream of evening's new moon
hanging moments of willow-curly 

thursdays

Nudged off the concrete steps 

Into the maple tree
Into pieces of dandelion parachute lightness
Catching the wind into the blue of this day
Pulled & lifted into visions of use & service
Unwound, released & reaching
Open & available
To be present & vital to the boned & feathered
To write, to fly, to soar into the something more .....
To complete the flight 

To follow thru

With no fear of heights
No fear of the landing
Maple Tree shimmering … 

Flight into me 

terra firma

there is a point in the course of my day that sets me back upon my heels ...
a point where i realize that all that has come before pales in comparison to all
that will be ...
a point that stops me in my step
halts my breath and
i
close
my eyes .
a song is barely heard
there in
the chaos of the stars ...
is it ....
9 crimes ?
useless desires ?
hero ?
i'll be ?
ah. favorite  damn disease .
yes.
and is is raw & raunchy & steeped in jamison & guinness .... smoke & red
it is blade sharp and hurts like amotherfucker as i rake it across my wrist ....
my
eyes
close
and there in the blackness i
see
&
know
the terra firma black cherry spaces

hold space

five-thirty

I leave little trace here ....
no crumbs of opal dust
no tail of the comet
linear & polite
shadows behave
sunlight fades into night
wind circles to land upon wisteria & hops
matter shifting, folding
bringing
inner to wonder-light
unruffled birdsong
twilight