Wednesday, August 20, 2014

It Came on Wing






It came on wing of air soft-tuned
waif of thought  
loomed by mother’s willing knot
and the minutes daring sky dark tossed

Saying   now is in between of see
a place of dream and slanted time
and if you open mind of eye
past goodbye to winged caprice
where peace holds eager at arms length
you’ll see around the curve of grace
the lovely of a missing face

I know this thought is fulsome want
and bids to see past seem of real
to peel the skin between the strands
such faith is hard sometimes to feel

I’ve seen this bless of rip in fabric
all stitched down with stretch
elastic
to leave the room of bright lit tone
to find a song   no not alone
but filled with fabric cinched not severed
between the clouds    I’ve seen forever 

Sunday, August 17, 2014

On the Cement at Sunset








The fingers of her heart
tap out the measure of her feeling,
fragile tapered candles they spark
on the cement at sunset.







All around her
is a garden
growing so much whatnot,
lavished with wings,
bees and hummingbirds
surround her hair of dusk
where embers glow
with cinnamon.

Listen to the sound
of the stretching of her mind,
it is stitching now a minute,
growing colors,
see there the lavender of abandon.

I can see her from this window
that distributes time
wrapped in parchment
and tied with twine.

Her wings are splendid
and her eyes are prisms
that cast a shadow that burns,
burns the quiet heart,
torches the waiting pulse,
breaths air into the coals.

She is watching me,
across the chasm of my vestibule
she paints me with cinnabar
and waits for me
to walk with her
out into someplace else.

Saturday, August 16, 2014

Which Way to the River




                                                               

Which way to the river

So far   so far

The path
walks with you

A feather notices the breeze
The ribbon of sky
touches the mountain
small thoughts are caught in the tangles
that dot the ridges all bend and bough there



Too far
distance is deceiving
time is its brother




Bathe your feet in rocks
trust the bones of trees
they have captured the way
their flourish marks the path
Sit down with breath
without counting
Listen to air speak
The water runs free
in me




Sunday, August 10, 2014

Bend of Sky





Could I but go to bend of sky
see the things that sunrise brings
around the corner I would run
there bare shouldered dream with wings

Could a blooming backwards rose
grow from petals on the lawn
a breeze would take them to the face
and stick them there with dew of dawn

A child would know a wisdom song
an old man whimsy chase around
and ground would hold a crayon’s melt
as night moon glows a suntan brown

Love would surely stay with hands
that promised ever after
and trees would lay their branches down
for climbing faster laughter

Could I but go to bend of sky
see the things that sunrise brings
around the corner I would run
there bare shouldered dream with wings

Sunday, August 3, 2014

Strum


The path turns fallow beneath my feet
bare and brown
so much youth beat within
a sin it seems to shod the truth
and casually walk around
as if time wasn't a circle
you woke to

God is the question still
and though I see the warming light
it is my own with wings and flight
and the guts of glory
that came from drowning
and the question who is dead

I have loved the lace in time
such pretty weaving catches me
planting well the seed that wonders
always asking slow or fast
detesting the blood of the righteous
to save the sisters and daughters
from the strangle of skin

The petals mold and droop into goodbye
even from the rigid frozen winter
and to see them stir the air
takes purity
and I despair my lack

Though I have taken songless wind
and with my ear created harmony
unglued the glass
and rubbed the wood until
my fingers ached
and still questioned why I worked the love
into the finish to feel it there smooth
and unafraid of weather
while my soft skin ached from the strum
yet still with joy    succumbed

 

Saturday, June 28, 2014

The Compromise




All around the roses grew,
their petals open and breathing bees,
the path zigzagged through
to him, benched under a tree.

He knew she was there
and patted the place
where Love held the chair,
though he was curtained
by layers of cascading doubts.

He laughed at her belief
in crossing barriers,
but some of the obstacles he built,
he released
so they could sit together
feeling the naked boards beneath their words,
wondering at the way the other thought,
for the meaning was all wrapped up
in little packages that lay at their feet.

While they sat together contemplating
what to do with all this treasure,
they learned something about each other,
for she was want to tear them open
and he to take his time.

So they sat on Love’s bench
with time ticking the roses closed,
while she learned patience
and he learned to trust.


Friday, June 20, 2014

Under the Mimosa Tree




She swept into summer
with her youth 
and her freckled sunlit arms
and she smiled
oh how she smiled

sliding was how it seemed
with long legs
and her slender dear waist
unaware of the shine
so displayed in her laugh

She didn’t care 
that the grass was damp
and the air sizzled heat
her shoes lay limp
and her toes wiggled in the air

To look up as she lay
was her delight
her elbows projected from her head
like pointed wings
as she saw her dreams dare

Love was an ever thing then
in the days of frills and sequins
she saw white lace and a plump baby
and was so tickled just to be
bare legged on the grass waiting

This tree is so soft she thought
her lashes feathering her view
‘til melding flowed the sky to peach
and her heart mellowed
and then fell like soft feathers
around her head 

She thought there would never be
another magic so fragrant
and she tried to capture its blooming
to press it for time

but the air grew chill
and the sky darkened
and her damp skirt clung to her 
and her flowing was diminished
for lasting she learned 
is only a minute
under the mimosa tree