bOdy

In water pulled from aquifers muddy lineage
i marvel at nails planted upon the tops of toes
incapable of suction, grappling gecko-like to the brick of things
legs skinny and ill-suited for withstanding years of running, leaping & kneeling
upon alters thick with the incense & faith of the night
pages tuned & burned by use & hope
veins deep & raised - swelling to allow the pulse & rhythm of blood :
copper & crimson
hands small, and clumsy
ill-suited for holding onto things
our fist of heart - fragile & transient
veiled in the alkaloids of red clay & garden beds
yet down our spine runs the Milky Way . . .
vast & hydrogen-starred
white phosphorus
incapable of remembering the hollow rattle of bones
and the songs of larks . .

shift

sometimes ...

when one is not looking, 

not paying close enough attention

a shift occurs 

a shift in the earth beneath your feet

a shift in the focus & light gleaning into the circus kaleidoscope 

the colors mute and bleed, leaving one

less full 

shapes can not be determined, purple becomes blue becomes green becomes

grey

puzzling 

over the events that could crash about one in puddles & shards of emptiness

the fog rolls in cold & hollow - veiling the light

the indigo bubbles fail to rise and your soul is left

in a labyrinth of regret & desire
circling as a thin, grey wolf would 

hunt: solitary & famished

empty

how does one keep striving in the shift 

how does one believe in the power of .... love

darkness aches for the wound in the soul 

and yet .....
there is a smell ....

earth & moistness 

something alive and new ....

really  ?

or is it merely another trick of the kaleidoscope 

shake it

hard

close your eyes and listen ....

there.

translucent

sometimes ....
when one is not looking, not paying close enough attention
a shift occurs ...
a shift in the earth beneath your feet
a shift in the focus & light gleaning into the circus kaleidoscope ....
the colors mute and bleed, leaving one
less full .
shapes can not be determined, purple becomes blue becomes green becomes
grey.
puzzling .....
over the events that could crash about one in puddles & shards of emptiness
the fog rolls in cold & hollow - veiling the light
the indigo bubbles fail to rise and your soul is left
in a labyrinth of regret & desire

circling as a thin, grey wolf 

would hunt
solitary & famished
empty
how does one keep striving in the shift ?
how does one believe in the power of .... love?
darkness suckles on the wound in the soul
and yet ..... there is a smell .......
a smell of earth & moistness
of something alive and new .....
really ?
or is it merely another trick of the kaleidoscope ?
shake it.
hard
close your eyes and listen ....

there.

birth

baby boom daughter of a movie queen and a medicine show

juggling moons and carnival masks

between the blue waters ....

tonight  ...

snow comes on

heavy & thick as black as a walnut's thigh

turning this lament into a great horns cry

the sharp daggered pierce

of a cut to the core 

bruises & wounds

each intake of breath

every mistake and regret

as i live with the pain

yet there.

move that picture of dragons & orbs

yes... 

there

move it

to reflect even more upon the veiled faces

veiled with secrets accomplished

and golden beauty stolen with whimsies hand

sparkling & golden ..... 

rain melts all regret .

forecast

empty, restless, hungry, tired, wanting, feeling .....
... the snow that waits outside these windows awakens me to
a desire for wine ....
a bold, deep cabernet with heavy bread
a want of books, of blogs, of leather boots with high heels, flannel sheets
& clean white socks with nakedness, of lectures & knowledge, of greys & blues, of smells.
i'm fucking hungry !!
i crave visions, revelations, magic, snow, dancing, language, poetry, thoughts that explode or linger, words that bleed, words that bruise, touch that heals.
i want to eat your laughter, the sound of your sighs
to consume the dust of your soul
happy hours of your silence & your semen
medium rare steak, underwear, wind, thunder-ale drowned in music.
music, music, music ....
i'll devour your salt-honeyed skin
i am obscenely starved i am ....
of touch, movement, snow, alice's looking glass, peace, sunshine, mountain breezes,
affordable health care
edible words like cunt & fuck & snow & linger & mango
give me cigar smoke, tribal dreams and new orleans
sweet smell of honeysuckle jazz
and your smell 
your smell
one, two, three ...
madly jonesing i am.
let me chew, gulp. lick, smell once again, kiss forever
lie in your arms forever .....
to lick every warm inch of skin, to have my mouth full of your
songs, strawberries, earth, joy.
wake up !!
turn off your cell phone- pull down your underwear- get wet-
- pour your mind into my hands
and
i
will
tenderly
hold ...... you.

let the light catch up with you …..

On this day
the sun is peeking over the roofs to the East--moving over the pillows of snow
drifted & frozen upon nearly everything.
the sky clear
forget-me-not blue
pale
clear
at 8:30, i realize it was one week ago around this time that sorrow landed
with the pop & chaos of catastrophic violence
in Sandy Hook

I stop
and breathe
watching the sun and its reflection upon the snow.
to remember loss--my own personal, deep-to-the-marrow-loss

and how
above all things
the wish
that
everyone
would just
stop
(truly everyone)
just fucking stop
for a moment
for one moment
realize the depth of loss, the world's loss
to notice my aching & tattered hole
to stop

and in stopping
I notice the light is moving closer to me--silently sure & bold
silently illuminating my place

in stopping
we let the light catch up

love in a grove of trees or what comes after .....

the smooth slip of the silver needle lies between fingers dry & uncertain
my 6th vain attempt of bulls-eyeing the vanilla thread is heavy & ringing
things will be alright if i can just sew this button on a pair of jeans she wants . .
things will be alright if i say the right thing, look full & compassionate
pointedly earnest & hanging
yet
not
too
much
concern defines chaos
outlining evenings buckled in grateful fear & mortality
things will be alright if i buy her a new skirt, complement her hair
hold that ancient precious memory close .... enough
feed her right & she will grow strong & resilient
show her the shores of the world & read her books of peter rabbit & frog & toad
let her choose her clothes & she becomes confident & free
define her poppy-sparrow-laughter
and
suddenly
there is the blue-red of
needle pricked flesh ...
leaving a scar ever-so-slight & insignificant
slight & insignificant
is there such a thing ?
ever ?
no one ever tells you what it's like to swim in paralyzing gratefulness
thick, blue & smothering
warm & murky
gratefulness is an insignificant word . .
it is more a mercy-steeped-grace
beating & throbbing with all things ....
all things alive and green & smelling of a ripe peach in sunshine .
no one tells you how to love inside out & lost to the
rhythm of a clock not your own
no control, except to press the wound gently & steadily until .....
things are alright