of March ....

 what joy & idle lie here 

along this branch that arches 

 to a sun hidden by clouds 

this day feels tender & possible 

there is no skin 

no boundary between what is mine 

and what is everything 

it is all arching towards an infinite sky 

possible 

here

 a rainforest burst against the desert of my lips

              pressed & imprinted 

                        there 

a trace of chalky white sand smelling of the sea & antiquity 

               there for eternity 

sun burning melting my skin to yours along the horizon-line of dreams & vast emptiness 

             saturated with wild wonder I wait 

                 for the cooling of night   

silvertone

there is a frequency coming thru the thinned porcelain berry 

pitched to a winter cardinal

north south east west 

this wind blows from river to plains 

to

mountains west 

straight line wired on a midnight promise 

bound for boulder canyon on the zephyr train 

root me to earth with birdsongs of spring 

and the sorrow of finer things

drifts pile pile against the need 

for a clean slate 

surrender all your shame

here 

amongst the  debris of storms 

and 

      love 

root me 

take me 

leave me 

all the same under a snow promised 

pink sky day 

surprise/no surprise

 mad hatters & cambrics 

moons & twilight 

snowflakes 

grasslands and turkish delight 

i've crafted & weaved your affections in ink 

painting the inside & outside to link 

    to the crimson red threading my hand 

bring me back to gazebos in summer grass & the taste of cheap wine 

bring me back to the twisting open road 

with you under my hand 

sharp

silent 

sunburned wedding bands 

hold on 

hold on ... to this ride 

so treacherous & so long 

mad hatters & cambrics 

moon & twilight 

snowflakes 

grasslands and turkish delight 

how preciously shimmering this one wild life ....

these days

 death is my constant 

     these days 

step for step 

no longer a shadow to the hours 

but a piper leading to grace & belonging 

wrapping me in waiting 

white velvet cooling 

      these days 

rabbit holes

 i answered the door and home crossed the threshold 

velvet worlds beckoned 

 we jumped  1 … 2 … 3 

slipping into comfort & cloaks of knowing 

walls sang of edges 

the sheets sang of us 

alignment a funny thing - how it falls from your hand 

reckoning 

1…2…3. 

what rises from the dust becomes a rusted trust 

good luck charms burn just like old trees with a little gasoline 

skin holds the trace of love like a secret tattoo 

always there 

across the threshold 

1...2...3

within

 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