Wednesday, November 10, 2010

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

Monday, November 1, 2010

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