Monday, July 31, 2017

swallowtail

paced precision
bangs need cutting
clothes too baggy
skin saggy
what do we measure?
when do we care    
enough
to braid that crimson thread
hitch a ride on a blackbird bed
pluck the feathers from skin pink from solitude
unraveling the tempest
touching love's conquest
love's conquest?
ah!
AH
more likely
a draw
a tie
a balanced coin
equanimity smoothed & tucked
no triumph
no parade today
just
simple breath drawing
heart thawing
under the haze
and
heat
of this July sun

Wednesday, July 26, 2017

gone

emptiness coming into thunder
as the hackberry rustles in the wind
i am the rustle
sky white upon infinity's throat
no honeysuckle drip dripping
no rubbed & inky pages
the void lies thick against the blue jay
lines of conduct are hot to the touch
hot
where does the yearning go?
where is the pull to you?
wrapped in sureness
dancing against the light
amber-love rich
golden flight of the knowing







Tuesday, July 25, 2017

courage

slipped in sidewise
between
maple leaves
and
the summer-pressed stillness
of this july morning
time opens its wonder
to
everytime
before
and
yet to come
wrapped in unfolding day lilies
at once
6
and
60
freckled sky against the spell
warming warming
this day
of
rustle & remark
even the blue jays are quiet

this moment
slipped sidewise
to the sun



Tuesday, July 4, 2017

sun tea of peppermint & licorice

There is a lawn mower mowing
a female cardinal chatting somewhere 

this July sky 
not blue
not white 
too bright 
to gaze at for any length of time 
air heavy with humidity and Baghdad's sorrow 
and 
the 
weight 
of 
forecasted 
rains 

the summer is 
wild 
fierce 
and vulnerable.  

I am dreaming of water 
not blue
not white
but too bright to look at for any length of time  
a boat … sunshine 
and those things associated with you that press against heart & bone 

the lawn mower is still mowing 
and now a wren is calling for her mate

and the rains will come

Monday, July 3, 2017

of two o'clock on the second day in July

the smooth perpendicular curve of the
tap tap tap
paper-white anthems of fireworks
pierced and petaled
staccato hour of day
tap tap tap
periwinkle comes the afternoon
resplendent in its smells of weariness & woodpeckers
the air feels perfect; azure crinoline brilliance
gleaning seeming
tap tap
will it rain later?
of green labyrinth stillness I become
pink aster's sun
awake
and
listening