Skip to content

>body in flight

thickened hands wary to grab  more     

pleasures they cannot own

eyelids wrinkled after privation in the flat country

 no glimpse of those depths or shapes written about

by the gibbous moon,

  just a worn locomotive body In flight 

ears emptied on the pillow at night

machinery in the mouth, that

  for every orphaned abstraction 

one recumbent field waits

with the left-handed sun designing the sky,

  no hours no revelations 

only angled bones 

learned to rest.         

  

(photo credit to Collin Morrow)                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                        

Mountain

Mountain from the window

Mountain brings rain to my pillow with unseen hands

Mountain in your back, mountain in your away

Mountain in my mouth

Mountain in a word, more mountains after

Mountain in the forces that shake and panic

Mountain in stillness

Mountain where we drop

Mountain where the high earth flips

Mountain where the moon sits

Mountain at night where we keep watch and want

Mountain, listen for water,

Mountain, be hungry.

Paint Chip Poetry: red, pink & purple

Paint Chip Poetry is a project inspired by an artist colleague who suggested using the paint samples found in hardware stores to inspire mini-poems, beginnings of fiction, haikus, surrealism, fantasy, word-play. 

The rose orchid kissed with fuzzy crumbs of cherry pollen.

Fairy beach inside the pink, blushes.

We danced like love junkies to the biscuit song until the apricot blush of dawn.

Poor beached beluga, all shades of mushroom and scruffier than a pirate on flat seas.

Moth flosses its wings in butter, flies with the gleam of a copper coin burnished by the fountain water.

You were a defeated statue, lying on its side. Burnt words from your elegant mouth and I knew I had lost. She had already fortified your heart and lit the ceremonial flame.

Dutch door opens to a tulip shaped bell. The ring brings a woman wearing dear, wooden shoes and painted cheeks to the counter. Petite camellia cakes served under a snow of lavender sorbet. Her boutique has a flair for whimsy.

Midnight is a patchwork quilt of plum and grape and a lullaby of darling darling darling

Her, him, red cayenne.

Have you ever seen wind tango with sand? We stood on a jagged ochre Mesa and the elements were in motion with the colors, and the poetry found its way to our hair and into our socks.

We went to New Beginnings Island once and never found it again. People say it was just our imagination.

Paint Chip Poetry: blue and black

Paint Chip Poetry is a project inspired by an artist colleague who suggested using the paint samples found in hardware stores to inspire mini-poems, beginnings of fiction, haikus, surrealism, fantasy, word-play. 

In France they say fait accompli, in Japan, they write haiku

Listen to the sooty teapot whistle seaweed steam

Wind play world’s away

Mykonos, the city on a blue lace shore

Figure in a curtain when the north wind blows / window shut, tempest rages

Electro eye blink, a melody in a wink

I dream of a cottage on an island in the berry blue bay / and rock with the porcelain white tops / my deeper sea beckons.

The woman at the wetbar calls herself harmony she has cocoa skin in the shape of a vase walks sultry like everglades in a florida summer

from ocean to sea, the chagres river delivered our greed

aqua lotus botanical bliss

Paint Chip Poetry: yellow, green & brown 

Paint Chip Poetry is a project inspired by an artist colleague who suggested using the paint samples found in hardware stores to inspire mini-poems, beginnings of fiction, haikus, surrealism, fantasy, word-play. 

woven alder branch catches the day sleeping on its linen shadow
Ranchland sundown.

Black hills release the hounds

down, the crocodile froth

up, the citrus white sky

here, in its limelite, walks your salt-weathered plank soul.

butterscotch, amber / my tongue turns gold when you kiss me

i call my curiosity Lady Ophelia, she tries the honeycomb before the bees have left and the yellow stains her eyes long after, searching –

When they found earth, it was all alone: elegant, from a storybook. They all but frolicked into that desert crater with its craggy floor that looked like cracked wheat or appropriated pottery. In the evening, the heat burned off into antimony shadows. The mystery was sublime. They breathed deeply and air hit the back of their throats like bourbon underneath that great golden antiquity.

In their celadon throats some essential call,

meadowlarks of the marsh

hang over the waterscape like lichen

the herd

  
There are pockets behind your eyes where sorrow swings until the wine is drunk, until silence wakes you to the accumulation of dreams you’ve been sleeping through 

rushes like a herd of cattle – how long has it been since you practiced singing to them – bottomed out by the echo of their hooves from the other end of that sterile plain 

no breastbone to hide behind so reach deep into those pockets where everything you witness but never feel goes 

to wait, to rescue you.

Poinsettias

A white sky is at its heaviest in November; under it, two old sisters share the sidewalk where

once they felt narrower hips reach over crack, over slope. This year, they use it to retrace,

talk, familiarize grief with thief as if initiating the actor to the role

of red fall leaves, from the enflamed cul-de-sac Sweetgum,

collected to embellish the dinner table.

As kids, they knew those stabs of pleasure

preceded empty branches,

which is why the pleasure,

and why the empty.

Just as quick as crunchy leaves are swept into the trash, the white poinsettias arrive wrapped in holiday foil.

But this ugly decoration is unrelated to how and when winter should abbreviate autumn, according to them;

daytime shortening against their consent, and the sisters accept they are not in charge of the changes,

like an act curtain descending, they kept looking for the operator. Still, looking.

Though upon coming home, the table is suppressed by a fresh collection –

leave-taking, the endings of sweetness and expiration of grief,

often a more problematical scene change for an older crowd

who clutch tightly at everything – purses, railings,

the hand of whoever can be taken away,

even at their own pain, even

the poinsettias.

%d bloggers like this: