with ease
i slip beneath the bell jar
trapped & separate from the tangible
content in the capture
to rest
so tightly held
so highly removed from the churning of the ordinary
this wrapped nucleus of jade silken despair
rest comes as chrysalis
removed to this dome of glass
to await the mandarin & black of flight
and
the sweetness of milkweed
a place space reachable by a narrow silver thread on a Spring morning
when the wind is out of the north north-west at
8 miles an hour
not a cloud in the sky
there i reside
against the open wings of a sandhill crane
on a track for Calgary ....
there will be blue
tied with white ribbons of silk to the cycles of the coyote moon
a place reachable
an empty space to fill in
with all the spare parts; love, metal, matter & might
no anchor here
only feathered things that take you to blue
where
the sky tattoos your light
Take me there ...
to a land between two rivers
of rubles & tremors
lies a fertile valley wide
mountains to each side
tower to a blue sky undisturbed
flowers grow here in the Fergana Valley
flowers grow;
the crepe myrtle
euphorbia milii
china rose & kalanchoe
pomegranate cotton
oleander
trumpets flowers & cotton
four-o'clocks & marigolds
buttercups
tulips
poppies
flower carpets unroll
from the chul, tau, adyr & yaylau
flowers grow in a valley tucked in .... and we didn't know this before this moment
take me there
The Flower Festival of Namangan
remembering crinoline and softness and smallness the first time touching a pony's nose and the sound of meadowlarks
remembering wonder
remembering the smell of freshly mown grass, rain & my mother's perfume
remembering hats and cigarettes and black and white television and death
remembering feeling treasured
remembering feeling invisible
remembering the wide rive rand friends and school days and new clothes, laugher and love and sex and the fire ring of immortality
remembering feeling invisible
remembering death again
remembering independence and the ability to know more, experience more, touch more and that smell of pine trees that follows you everywhere and striving for the unnamed unknown quotient
remembering discovering Boulder
remembering the day I left the earth for other horizons and what that brought, cost, lost
remembering the dead rattlesnake on the highway from Boulder
remembering how I've known the love of the best dog ever and how the hole never gets smaller
remembering coming home to self
remembering the bright power of a sunrise that shines so canary bright as the dark lightens to an alice blue morning and there are two grandchildren waking to hunger & possibility and newness
remembering everything
remembering is a funny thing painted as it is by perception & age & atmosphere and the dreams one has and the sense of being not born on the right planet not born in oneself exactly and carrying the weight of bluejays and crane migration and importance of matter
remembering the importance of matter
remembering the song of meadowlarks ....
in April’s field standing
early this day
pre-dawn grey
a taste of earth landing/waking upon my tongue
yields unstrung
ah! my darling petrichor there you are!
midnight’s spell-messenger evermore
enchanted light
bewitching rain
as meadowlark’s song springs to flight
what sky will delight?
in April’s field standing
Not
too dark not too light
of eagle-winged serendipitous luck the color comes
Pegasus was a Palomino
born from sea & gorgon-snakes for flight
the ride of Bellerophon
Athena charmed ...
sweet spring grasses & strawberry ponds
wide open meadows & cattail wands
red rover red rover
when the cranes fly over ...
flight to fight to freedom to breath
fountain builder
thunderbolt shifter northern sky resider
at +90°-60°
Pegasus was a Palomino