Thursday, December 14, 2017

swell

brimmed & rolling
awash in gray softness
snowflake martinis & little fires
pages smelling of daydream's silver snap
resting in chaliced hands
holding
enfolding
these dusted minutes
may i have another?
one more flight alongside the songbirds
of this winter day
ash wings disappear against the sky
gray to gray
there is no sun today
only mercury



9:49 on a december morning

















some days reflect
white on white
white to brick-red briskness bites

clarity lingers upon the landscape of loss
opalescent
pearled

knit-one-pearl-two

wind is still
snow shrinks to whisper pools of winter
softly

it is childhood : folded in & dripping joy through holes pierced by an ache so large it fills the sky with blue blue rolled up & spilling upon land frozen & waiting

knit-one-pearl-two

crispness becomes home becomes bone
as
a wren comes and sits upon this folded day
blue-blue rolled up & spilling

knit-one-pearl-two


Saturday, November 25, 2017

becoming













inhaling longer--broader
to rest his scent against my heart
as he hugged me to his chest
{he was so tall} !
able to encompass my entire being within his entire being
larger than life 
thoughtful he walked this earth
bright he shined

he had a spot--a nesting place
things within an easy reach;
comfy sofa
a phone
a legal pad
a place for coffee (or scotch)
glasses
a magazine or newspaper

quite unexpectedly
the poignant bite of awareness dawned
i too have my spot--a nesting place
things within an easy reach;
comfy sofa
a phone
paper to write
a place for coffee (or scotch)
glasses
a magazine

and a brightness that lays upon the blonde wood
upon the nesting place
a shine that follows me wherever i go
ever longer--ever broader--evermore
pressed there against my heart
encompassing my entire being
larger than life
this one precious life 

things within an easy reach

we become






Friday, November 17, 2017

November 17th

the morning leans open
mild as an April
yet here we sit in mid-November
it should be brisk--snap--brittle--chill
but it is this ...
this portal of spring stranded against the soft blue blue sky
pressed between the panes of summer & frost
forty-eight degrees and rising
riding
a rolling south breeze teasing leaves golden brown
everything is a golden brown ... amber hued
this
the blue jay circling the hackberry tree knows the truth
knows the magic of this brilliant morning
mild as an April

Thursday, November 9, 2017

tyto alba


...the wing span of a barn owl is 42 inches
42 inches of ghost feathers & furl 
lifted on particle currents of atmosphere 
dip & dive
dip & dive 
silent nocturnal flyer 
dip & dive 
find me  
there in slumber beneath worry & bramble 
trembling in stasis 
exultant in dark possibility 
wrapped in skin with age & aspirin 
awaiting your sharp golden piercing 
dip & dive
and
capture 
me 


epiphany













mid-day shadows
and
a

longing

for a space upon which to gather berries & silence
thorned & violet as cotton acanthium

bring me quiet truth
splashing against sinew & marrow
wide & pale as fragility

still 

hushed birdsong & anthem
hushed to lines bold & blue
hush...
i will wear feathers
and
      find you

davis avenue


underneath the sofa
a perfect place to lay
tucked and pajama-footed
my secret hide-a-way

yellow flannel-orange blossoms
perfect blend between
nylon threads, vanilla walls
picture-window tv screen

parents glued to Carson
no one saw me sneak
along the shadows of a room
to risk the chance to peek

grown-ups had this cocktail life
up late with cigarettes and rye
criss-cross-applesauced behind the sofa
pony-tailed-bobby-socked spy

watching the world unfold from there
my vantage a hushed thrill
if I could only turn back time
you'd find me nested still