when listening to the sound of your voice

 blue sky 

a goddamn sun so bright 

the white

of the snow stuns 

cardinals drip into lemondrops 

bewitched by daydreams & two o'clock 

it happens 

the tumult of delight 

the snap of cold against images trimmed in velvet birds 

i am here 

a feathered & shadowed thing 

bright 

and smelling of spring 

mid-december

    the way snow falls always has made me cry 

who thought of that? 

that it should glide downwards in direct ratio to the wind & white 

slanted rhythm of day following night 

transforming warmth to cold 

soft to hard yet soft still 

but oh so biting in its relentless knowledge 

how to forgive the unforgivable 

how to muster the courage for another day the color of quiet 

how to hold the light & the blue of age 

   the way snow falls 

press your hand against the glass & feel the sharpness 

cooling blood lost in the labyrinth of trying 

how slow muscle talks to bone these days 

how hollow seems the heart 

yet how bright the fire 

    the way snow falls 

surrender

 just a jittery tremble in the branches of the apple tree 

naked of leaves 

stark against the morning white 

snow makes everything sharp 

cold brilliant wakefulness 

trapped & succumbing to a moment 

dropped lemons upon the floor 

evermore 

archer

amber'd ghost of the shallow river and moonlight confessions 
preferring the mask to the vulnerability of love

touched by the deepness of blue and the shutter of a thousand suns

you run

bound by regret that wells the dam, breaks bones

and 
pierces the heart of the wild

dear fire inside ....

polishing the rocks 

tumbled & divine 

the dress was silk-raw-lichen green 

movement directed by moonbeam 

one + one = one 

undone 

drala is strong here 

but dharma weakening against the sun 

press repeat 

to taste the honey 

folded enfolded felted fire spun 

no ground 

we are sky 

undone 

Cartesian Casting

our goodness disguises itself
as a hesitant trembling
A-421.6Hz
bound to marrow and memory
surer than this first snowfall

or

the weary grief poised upon regret's edge

no doubt in the fear we are not enough

incomplete our box of paints
unfinished our sculpted stories

imperfection and debris create the amber
feel the whirling diadem of your existence
here
in this first 
snowfall

in and of

timeless enfolding

syncopated rhythms of petaled forgetfulness 
oh!

how we turn inward while turning outward
to sun
to the violet edges of linen old
crinkled clasping of celadon-hope to breast full-striving
for that sulfur spring
while doubt circles disguised as stardust 

we loom fierceness with hands leaning in

how can we tender to such persimmon fragility
while soothing our own feathered fear & bones?
holding in fractal spaces 

defined by
lips pressed to peach skin pressing protection white white

lean in
lean in 

to love in all it's brilliance
to the cutting sorrow path
lean in