day to night

preference to dust & the carnival masks 
the tatters of summer & billows to mast
mercurial children of moon & chiron
indigo magic kneeling at dawn

smelling of fire & sex at high-noon
we search for trails to our velvet brigadoon
uncovering silver & sorrow in sand
only to find it there in your hand

a hand that is slender & wisdom weld
a hand willing to serve others well
a hand recalled in the darkest of dreams
a hand parting the veil, piercing the gleam

so we find that path outlining the tender
Psyche & Eros collide in surrender
reality limits only the day
by night we soar hand in hand in the fray

preference to dust & the carnival masks
the promise of snow & vinegar glass

the seven of cups thrown at the door
moonlight evermore

river

river runs past corn stalk acres reached traipsing prickled wooded banks 

sandy ribboned channels cuts through this prairie summer 

water ankle-murky-deep 

freshwater winding rushing low cool water washing 

surrounds skin sun-warmed to tan

freckled sky open cloudless blue wide 

childhood current's respite felt languid amongst the swirl 

freedom's call to wild 

August

Wind blows tart 
sharply
pressed between strawberry longing at a quarter to cloudy
while
heat falls in tapestry-branched curtains heavy 

     with forgetfulness
the width & span of a thousand years
Will the peaches come on Sundays
     as they have before you were born?
What day is it?
                       Wednesday.
Medallions of lions tattooed along my thigh
itch from the sting of an orange wasp
forgetting the vastness of cone-flowers & yard chickens

The wind promises autumn the way stars promise dawn

all bets on the moon 

Time sharpens the lines 

blurs the marrow 

poured into the mystic of morning . . .

leave no trace

stillness a shadow
bluejay brings grace
warm winds
break across my face
sun darts to weeds & waiting bones
slow down
return me home

love burns like skin when out too long
nothing remains by four
but
the wind
      and the something more

stillness a tremor
stillness a light
warm winds
against the white
sun too hot
day too long
slow down
summer's song

smells like rain

the jarring road
the blue sky
the wind
the sorrow
the rhythm of this day carves birds from my bones
     and they fly they fly
becoming the morrow

I am of dust and sweeping grasses green
the passage of clouds
sky a blue I've never seen

the humming 

the buzzing 

all around all around 

sweat sticky & nectar sweet 

(apparently) 

wildflowers yellow as far as the eye can see 

the jarring rattling road 

the bluest sky 

the ceaseless wind 

the hollow sorrow 

the rolling rhythm of this day widens my heart 

     and it beats it beats 

becoming the morrow 

to hold this course 

to raise the hope 

chase the dream of something wider 

something vaster 

something beyond the grasp 

becoming the wind 

becoming the hollow 

becoming the humming 

becoming the sky 

becoming the blue 

in july at two o'clock

this place
hollow
full
all things at once
both sublime & jagged
as the break of a bone across the expanse of the night
does heartbreak make a sound
when there is no one there to feel it?
and why does broken seem unbroken?
hollow not hollow
in the distance there is a humming
low & constant
or is it a pulsing--a tempo I can not keep pace with

regardless
butterflies come to the milkweed and the thrumming becomes
the speed of light 

amazing

moths &  dragonflies
dust & vinca vines
sparks of yesterday beneath my rubber heart
perched like meadowlarks upon the barbwire of night
here where the sky forgets forgiveness
oh better days where are you hiding?
there along the tree line of the river wide?
move the rock & shift the sand--find the gold
scrape away the top soil of the field & return the bones
there are better days somewhere tucked below the stones
moths & dragonflies
dust & vinca vines
sun, moon & stars guide me to the sliver lining