as one

i know you

   as waves know sand,

       every glittering, tumbling grain,

              each crashing curve of

            salt and blue,

        drawn again

and again

    into the other

         in an ancient

               eternal and

           intimate

     dance.

spider

silent venom
slowly seeping
as I sleep

scalding fingers
of poison flame
stretch and grasp
beneath my skin


in this dream
I call your name

picked clean

some poems
are just gristle
and bones

spare and naked  
truth
from deep
inside

exposing
a visceral
and terrible
beauty

default

we are born
hungry

belly and soul

wailing
to be filled

odd couple

Watching the old man scowl

and stomp away,

I gently asked her,  

Why?

A bit of wistful met her crinkled smile.

    He just needs a bit of distance.

    I think sometimes he's a little afraid of me,

       if truth be told.

My forehead creased with questions I could not voice,

but her eyes met my confusion

with sudden shining depth,

pressing in on me 

in a rush of calm

and blue.

    He is fire, child,

    and I am water.

 


February 2007

after all

 

the dead don't always sleep.

no, sometimes we dance

     and sing

          and laugh

               and love.

yes, we love

     and we dream our dreams

          of tomorrows

               that never come.

but what does this mean

     or matter to you?

we are dead

after all.

starlight, star bright

whisper your wishes
   with prayerful lips
kiss each one
   before you sleep

catch them up
   in a crescent moon
and fling them out
   into the deep

 

(revisiting a childhood nighttime ritual)

super shorts

holding a poem

in my mouth

i fold the laundry

(my first attempt at a lune)

the lizard with no tail 

tells his tale

without a word

he has met the cat

(an old favorite)

yes

   time

      is short

and  

   between

      is so long

I  wait

      in the quiet

         remembering

the

    song

(another from the archives)

we want.

we yearn.

we long
  to burn.

 and yet
 
  we fear
    the fire.

the night before the rain

the midnight moon

slings wide

its murky-colored bow

among thin clouds

above my head

neck craned back

I gape and blink

in the warm tickles of wind

wondering what dark promise

this full moon bears

the puppy pulls her leash

snuffles in the grass

 unconcerned

with heavenly matters 

Lost Melody

I opened my mouth
   to sing
 but only a wail
    rang out

a song
   too long held
 sours, it seems,
    fermenting
   inevitably
 into a scream

touch

this slender frame 
   cannot
      contain me


walls and miles 
   do not restrain
      my reaching 
             stretching
                   out
                 to gently touch
                       your heart


and I never return
unchanged.

once upon a time

it
is not.

it
never was.

how
then
do I feel
its loss?

  

September

there is an urgency
today
in the green
of the trees
behind my house

leaves so seriously
intent
on coloring
the cooling light
as it falls to the ground

as if they know
the nearness
of winter's
silver
silence

anointing

Wisteria falls

in lavender drops

from its feathery

treetop canopy.

The world stills –

        quiet

but for the patter

of fragrant petals

on my upturned face.

crash

          picking
through

            the
                     pieces

   scattered
                  on     the

       floor



        shattered
reason

           shimmering

                                   more

                 intriguing
                         than
           before
                          .

unspoken

Place your fingers here

in the hollow of my throat.

Do you feel the rumble

low and deep?

Hold still,

a moment more.

Can you sense it swelling,

gaining strength and clarity

as it struggles toward the surface?

Soon or late,

it will be born.

You cannot say

you were never warned.

swamp song

I long for the damp scent
of black, sandy loam
at bayou's edge,

soft patter
of gently lapping water,
murky green and dark,

whispers of breeze
from dragonfly wings.

I long for home.

Dolores

despair

stains the floor

everywhere

her bare feet

meet the polished wood,

slowly seeping

colorless

toward the walls.

each breath expelled

smells hot

of anguish

aged and ripe.

shards of flashing

sharp and light

slice the air

around her,

entice

with glittering

promise

of pain.

do not be drawn

into her eyes.

do not mistake

that hollow depth

for need.

there is nothing

here

for you.

Fear Not

Trust me enough
to let me stand to my full height
without reprimand.

Sing with me as I test
the strength and reach of my voice
uncovered,

for I must.

I have long outgrown
this narrow space,
and no choice remains
but to at last become
who I am.


You must have known
this day would come,

or did you think

   these

      wings

         were just for show?


(repost from 2008)