Wednesday, September 30, 2015

saudade


Aubergine mums
exploding in the shadow of the japanese maple
holly debuting with random pop-orb berries
promising
something . . .
time snaps into the rusted clockwork of possibility
steamed open
with no watermark of completion
no crimson waxed seal
tinkering with windmills & wildcraft
visibly stripped of warrior strength &
sage gypsy purpose
my tongue writing Monet visions
while my body leans into the stitch & knit
knit one pearl two
imagination felted & warm replaces
saffron heights of wonder & reach
marveling over the aubergine
but all the while, wishing for
the marigold ...

bird's eye view: history lesson re·dux

bird's eye view: history lesson re·dux: Oh Columbia!  -- imagined history of our ancients -- where is our emancipator of despair? bison spirit rising ,,,, compassionate libera...

Monday, September 28, 2015

half moonstone's throw ...









That coral-vermillion moon half ....
shuttered light-well to Oz
captivated me all night: 

being
driving
walking
standing
poised 

upon a ledge that has become comfortably edge-like
 . . .   what is it ?
is it Fall ... ?
ding dong the witch is dead fall ? 
no
it is more
this otherworldly tincture of days
this moonglow spell of night
casting ancient dreams from yellow school buses & winged horses
constellations shift shadows into suspended seconds
laced to underwear & footballs
casting visions
A longing to be 15 .. ok ... maybe 16
lanky & full with secret words of lace in my pockets
we kiss

in grass, on beds, on bikes, in rivers . .  because we are young
well,
you are 17 with tamed arrogance & mahogany bones
the milky way & every nasturtium belong to us
I know what you look like in mornings and can smell you on my fingers
innocence seeds trust long fired in the bowels of mordor & mirth
bodies are lithe & limber twined naked and easy
our tongues play cribbage against lips pink & curious & sure
paused on backs flat upon earth sumac-red-deep 

and
 ,,, softly
suddenly. . .
the electric panes of glass slide
revealing
home 

in
the moon 

Saturday, September 26, 2015

north-west-morning-light













Tepid, this day ...
hanging garden of fissured possibility
inked in spaces left by who i was
and
who remains …
fractured mist rising
from
an ancient cigar box
smelling of longer days
the hands of ancestors scoop under my skin along my bones
touching the hollow places
where i choose to linger
and
wait
for the righting of the moon 

Wednesday, September 23, 2015

equal night

crickets break the stillness
as dawn's mist settles between thick branches
heavy with the weight of you
somewhere to the west
         a dog barks
then stillness returns
morning's are like this --
pensive
sublimely tilted
fathomless
desire tips verdant leaves toward
winter's imaginary respite
soon ....


Monday, September 21, 2015

night

sensation sometimes disguises itself as sophomoric sentimentality
candy-apple brightness hurls along causing the hairs to stand
up
on your forearm
to the distant sound of crickets and cellos and bees
what is authentic movement?
the downward dog of you
glass crusted
crackled with the dust of unknown origins
reach beyond the tactile first responder
reach marrow deep to scrap the soul fibers of Jupiter
from your tongue
oh petty benign graze of presence ....
sooth the night wrinkles
draw a warm bath
and
sing to me
of
waxwings & marigolds

17

you are an equation of fire + blue
components missing
lost in the rivers of your storied rye attention
you are of will and red rock
fierce
soft
as somber introspection frees me from the cage

Friday, September 18, 2015

camped beneath the moon in september


somewhere . . .
a fire sparks
snapping open to the belly-sound of
moonbells & violins
dust spins crystalline
and
porcelain thins
willow sails lowered to
the drift & roll
wind out of the north, north-west
vellum held under my tongue
to melt into honey & rye
felted transience pressed between newsprint
and
pluto's apples . .
ladders of bone rise from the wallow & swill
sleep .... rest
gypsies dance upon your grave
and call you home . . .
call you home

Saturday, September 12, 2015

americana loneliness


walking in a wild place
gauthiers & glasses
oil dripped from silver pots
and
hands wet with dark molasses

steps are wild sleepy
hazed with dust & brine
coldness cuts straight to the heart
as rain & mercury-will collide

heavy seems the parceled bones
tender is the dream
gathering stories of fierce trembling light
nothing's ever as it seems. . . .

walking in a wild place
gauthiers & glasses
oil dripped from silver pots
hands wet with dark molasses

Thursday, September 10, 2015

rain like this

thunder becomes my blood in the thirteenth hour 
rolling without pause churning, angry 
rain my breath 
released to this downpour 
relentlessly vertical 
the only refuge under the shadows of trees
even when it fades 
the storm remains 



Monday, September 7, 2015

grasp and go .... on












i steal wonder from things
thiefed from transparent moments 
tucked 
between ancient vermillion hands
hummingbird to honeysuckle
butterfly on blossom white
small drops of water delight
from copper to cut
silverwonder presses down-down upon fingerstips 
stretched -- raised 
in rebellion to distant moons 
how can this electric thread be tamed? 
can this tempest be soothed? 
sun dripped through to spectrum's bone  --  
eyes to hear a cello's lowing pull 
ears awash with a thousand colors 
September smells of important things 
and 
the taste of wind docks upon my tongue 
as lips blush in constant anticipation 
breath sparks fire shadows 
to light to light 
heart's thunder thief 
stolen 
tucked
reeling
in 
this 
wonderspell 

Wednesday, September 2, 2015

the middle way

caught in tiny imperfections
stretched tight over inked narcissus pressed
        between
                  old panes of glass
on a summer noon tide
cracks
bends
breaks
awaits
... the rushing waters to smooth the stone fields
undo
rewind
hell bent
glorious ride upon the backs of a thousand songs
carry on
carry on


(Eext)











blue of the soft wild open
fill bones hollow'd
as violet hides in spectrum's shade
there,
beneath the oak branches
illumination softly tethered
sparrows ...
pull the sun into corners cut by time
everything sways to some silent melody
pulsed
pitched
as the neighbor's roofline
steep and treacherous
morning's anthem
to
wakeful rising
to
things empty & seeking
before the darkness of the night