Emerged raw, blistered in viscous pearl. Lying On honey crystal sand by the clapping sea Sighing hearts carry me Into the ancient maw of the earth Skin knits anew I come out black velvet and dip into the pitch-velvet sky Watched by the singular Eyes The melody congealed and I walked it Up to the rest Arcs of white, plumes of white fire Circling out and up and around and in Close in enough and I am there Reading a book in a pocket in The arc harvest nearest the sun
spheres
Infinite spheres of light burn deep within the skies And almost all are hidden from my eyes It’s only after darkness washes through I see a few. back in the daytime I saw one. I used to think that truth was like the sun And I was bronzed and then my planet spun. I’m on a hilltop just above the shadowed trees Chilled by the dew and by the evening breeze Fiercely studying the stars, the sky, and rustling leaves are echoing me: Why? Why was most of it a ;;; Some days I am the cobblestone that’s loose The faltered word, the almost-truce The stone that skips and ripples glassy water The stubborn clay that irritates the potter Some days I am the starting raindrop of a storm Racing towards an earth that’s void and without form Not knowing if there’s anyone behind me ;;; after the land had been encased in shells of ice spring came. So I buried my face in the grass and breathed and let gravity pull me until I felt like the little being that I was, hugged against the side of a great spaceship hurtling through the universe
winds
Wind through the leaves on the trees A breeze through a field of grass Wind blowing a freeze Through a freezing mountain pass Wind teasing the leaves Teasing the leaves on the walk The deceased brown leaves, teased to pieces Dried as dry as chalk Wind in the chimes, animating Suffocating Wind talk Wind in five sails; wind wails Wailing through night alleyways Flapping a flag, clapping the clothes, Whistling over a line Wind roaring over car windshield Jangling empty cans for wine Angering oceans, threatening land Taunting the beach houses housed in the sand Beating their stilts Pulling their guilt through the days Airplanes pulling, pulling up on the breeze-ways. A sigh The wind that ruffled your hair when you said Unreachable Gusts of particles beating against the earth’s magnetic field A silent storm – a green yield. I watch the wind blowing the rain-stained flyers tacked on the bulletin board The wind carrying the rain-stained geese out of the fjord. The wind that makes the clouds move across the sky when I lay alone with my muddy eyes, on a stark day, looking up for answers The wind is drowning out your reply It forces me to dry my tears with my hair By tugging my hair away from my eyes If I could know where the wind comes from And where it is going And if I could come…
knowing gray
I walked with fireflies on the haze which glows dull orange, lit below, by city lights that gleam and blaze the color of a fire on snow. the satellites sketch lonely ways and dust burns in the atmosphere a fitting death of sparks and rays - dust travels far to die out here. its monochrome gives way to hue my sky dissolves from black to blue these miles remind me of what’s true I know the gray now, through and through.
[Featured Image: Descent of the Soyuz TMA-14M by Bill Ingalls]
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