Sep 21

The Insistent Depth of One Hour

Filtered through a window
Teeter-tottering in your evolution
You lay your last breath on a carpet. 

Azure oil spilled blue, your remains a lasting melody.
You had been seen from my wept eyes and as the minutes passed

The damper pedals hoarse layings
Waned back to navy tides
Sep 08

Wings

A steady hand,
And moving mind.
Give me time and I am sure to listen.
I yearn to move through my own force and your patience.

Arriving amidst the weavings of swallowed carpet. Shadows disperse, as frightened birds find a stiller wind.
And I see them pour across your feet.

In a sticky, stinging world,
Did you come in search of me, or did you

Give me time.
Sep 05

Of Beach Plums

Don't cry, Tee Bear, or you'll run
out of tears.


With phone calls and phone calls and not knowing
Faces toward springing terror each time the automated chord rises.
And a family being tugged on at all angles.

Mama, red eyes are a call to all I feel I can never change.

You say I know, I know
You don't look me in the eyes, running out of tears.
Sep 03

Safe, in a world unlike my own

I didn't get there at 4.
But to be away from here,
4:16 PM
and I wasn't here. Not by the mirror I eyed
myself in until I saw nothing.
I went to the beach, and this time all I brought was a book.
Sitting, to be judged by the vast expanse of sea, I am
the cat hiding behind the spiraling bush.
Of times I sang to it after years of quiet. Gentle strokes.

Rays of fur and lanes of lavender.

Of stepping on every slab of stone, even when my legs have grown far past their timid strides.
The stationed green swelling from the slate's embrace.
Of the days when conversations didn't concern me. Cocooned in heads far higher than mine, and arms that hold all that rushes by us.

Of the slow hum of wild hair. And a day at the beach.
Sep 02

Even the Swans

Sep 01

A Sweet One

It was quiet in the car ride. A waiting,
Calm captivation.
The kind that makes you feel music ease over you. And your eyes fall to the washings of leaves across the street.

Trembling in each dip of wind. You watch them cry at the edge of the cars run.
With an animals scurry and trance, lighter than the air as

The leaves turn, you see each color, warn to soil, and pasted to sky. Their nimble limbs scrape edges with asphalt. And you want to hear their slow sheen of through a dewy windshield
but the music rings so beautifully.

The music that is a sad call to something you've never known.
Aug 28

Maidenhair

House plant
Sugared and sweet.
You wept with a dour lilt to your leaves.
They fell to green, and green so grounded in the laden air.
What do they carry,

And what did you find in the week that I wasn’t there?
 
Aug 27

A Veil Wearing Thin

There’s a silver lining to every devastation, or rather, a transparent lining that masks the remains of the forests in our world today. The Amazon with smoke billowing, reaching for the sky in a futile escape is a scene we’ve pushed far from our minds. And at the root of this voluntary ignorance, is the See Clean Project. It’s not so nice when we think about what we have allowed ourselves to lose. To see to outdated pictures, that reminds us how it really is underneath. This is not new news. I know just as much as the next person what we chose to hide. But we’re living with it, it’s what we’re doing. Seeing as it is in human nature to wish for the best it can be, it makes sense that we may even pretend it is. But, forgive me, as I point out how desensitized we have become. This is not some preachy, “make a change” campaign you are reading. I am showing you, and myself, what we have become. I present to us, the hard truth. This is not a problem we can brush under the rug forever.
Aug 26

A Hidden World

Aug 24

Purpose

With kindled hands, I carried the moon.

Or a rock that looked like the moon. A pebble that held so much power
As striking seams do among the dank carpeted sky.

Emanating such tangy luminescence a star would melt its way to its reaches.
Soft heeding edges that have been cradled in stitches by timeless hands or

Run by the river a thousand times over.
And the pebble was so small that I almost lost it. And feared it would fall to a pitless fate among the bland.
Tuck it away in your bag, just for me?
A cry of nightfall's gem.
And it was pawned off, skin to palm.

I forgot about it, but there’s a certain soundness to the cold plastic hug of a side pocket.

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