Jul
10
2014

i remember when romance and hope were the same thing
he loves me, he loves me not
tattooed in a circle round my ankle
an ink drawn fresh dried forever shackle
offered in exchange for the customary key
but a young girl’s heart is always moving forward
ready to burst into star-struck song and
a brief exchange of whiskey serenade
until she learns with a crone’s bold eye
love is not the flower, but the root
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16 comments | posted in Imaginary Garden with Real Toads, poetry in motion
Jul
8
2014

all the memories
become a jumble
of forgotten chances
paint peels
and the sky
blinks
clouding birds
with gun flint
steel
a southern hurricane
whispers blindly
through the poplars
i planted
one day long ago
when i could not
say your name
now those same trees
shade our bedroom
telling secrets to a
clear clown canvas
and i paint circles
on your chest
with knobby-edged
fingers
wondering
if the rings
at the heart of those
tall twin trunks
are made of time
or gold
or if it matters
shadows dance
as leaves shimmy shake
across the surface of a lake
we never managed
to explore
and we watch the sun
set down color
like a promise
or a platter
filled with food
from a picnic
never taken
.
.
.
5 comments | posted in poetry in motion, what i see
Jul
1
2014

half is half and whole is whole
and open is never closed
the sky is unconcerned with your welfare
even as it paints your evening red
silence is impossible to silence
full or empty
black or gold
drink it in with your pessimist’s stare
pour it out with an optimist’s grin
overflow
and the earth will take your offering
run it downhill to the pool of purpose
gather
mingle
transmogrify
despair and hope and courage
and puddle them all
at the feet of fortitude
an elixir of entropy
reflecting
cirrus clouds
and broken blue
.
.
.
3 comments | posted in poetry in motion, what keeps me up at night
Jun
24
2014

some days
my heart breaks four thousand times
and that’s all before
i open my eyes
heartache is the farmer of contentment
planting seeds he knows have little chance
of bearing fruit
if you want 40 plants you sow 68 seeds
and if you’re lucky you’ll end up with 50
think too much and you’ll always have just enough
but no one ever said happiness
was a permanent state
and no one ever said
survival was a given
we stand in a field of black soil
and cry when our feet get muddy
the rain will wash you clean
as long as you don’t run
and sometimes the sky has to cry
just the same way a mother
has to worry
have you ever tallied the scars
on the tree that shades
your bedroom?
missing limbs
broken branches, gashes
peeling bark
sap runs slowly through the veins
of existence
but every spring
green
new growth
insists on piercing the cloud
blocking your view
of the sun
and four thousand leaves
never seem
overwhelming
until tomorrow
when they’ll fuel the flame
you find impossible
to douse
.
.
.
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Linking in over at dVersePoets for Open Link Night.
Join us!
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27 comments | posted in poetry in motion, what i see
Jun
19
2014

keeps me tethered to the anarchy of fortitude
and i am calm most days
as long
as no one looks behind the curtain
the robin sings at dawn and dusk
celebrating light and darkness
with the very same song
and i wonder
how any of us make it
through a night
that lets us
slip
through the grasp
of reality’s fingers
even dogs dream and
no one
ever told them they couldn’t
every morning
bird call becomes bell or music or
shrill-strapped screaming
but i always wake up
to this tree
this red breasted thrush
this half-hearted thrashing
against the weight
of a twisted
damp-mouthed
sheet
.
.
.
4 comments | posted in poetry in motion, this is my life, what keeps me up at night
Jun
17
2014

here is the hardest word
not sorry
nor forgiveness
though both are solid rocks
in the shoe of living
but
here
you cannot stay
you cannot leave
you cannot sing yourself away
or back again
from the eternal sunset
of lavender libation
all you can do really
is open
your eyes
your heart
your arms
your mouth
drink it in
inhale
exist beneath this ever
changing
umbrella of now
here
listen
hear it
raining down
.
.
.
(title is from the song “Stand” by R.E.M.)
7 comments | posted in poetry in motion, pretty pictures
Jun
14
2014

because
each moment holds its own redemption
each sunrise is a dare
each drop of rain was once a cloud
.
yesterday
this flower slept in a bed of mud
.
but look how pretty it wears
today
.
4 comments | posted in poetry in motion, pretty pictures, Uncategorized
Jun
5
2014

i stood in the sun
and watched a storm
circle north
around me
pulling clouds in directions
impossible to follow
thunder rolled beneath my feet
as i stood
still
planted in a world
refusing to acknowledge
bolts of lightning
ripping through the grey blue steel
of sky’s lost eye
there was no rainbow
but off in the distance
rain reached down
in gauzy
worn-through sheets
someone else’s
dirty laundry
left hung out
to rinse
dry
and petrify
.
.
.
5 comments | posted in a day in the life, poetry in motion, seasons in the sun
Jun
3
2014

is contemplation
e x a g g e r a t ion
the epic fail of epic
on a trip to Misnomer
any other name gets you to the same place
a beginning (seed)
a middle (flower)
an end (pod)
and you can’t separate any one of them from the other
without breathing in someone else’s perfume
crushing stem and spilling life
but you try anyway
again and again and again
and all the words you cannot say
(because i said so)
take root
in the cracks of cement
that line the path you’ve chosen
to pave with your rules
and your yeses and your nos
no!
but all you see is your own
vision
through those rose-colored glasses
of derision
mocking the singsong silence
of the empty vowel left raining
from the mud-caked corner
of your tongue
.
.
Linking in over at dVersePoets for Poetics today,
where Shanyn has us imagining poetry as seed.
Join us!
20 comments | posted in dVerse, poetry in motion, stuff i think about
May
29
2014

quenching the thirst you have for impossible rivers
carving hunger from hand-picked bones
runner roots spread beneath the blanket you wear
when you can’t bear to see stars touch your skin
earth’s heart beats slowly below your body
bleeding echoes of discarded remembrance
as you press an ear to the pulse of antipathy’s vein
singing softly for razor or retribution
or just one answer in a galaxy of question
dawn always feels like a reprieve of silence
the last inhale of guilt holding on to lost breath
but these tears of tree sap and mountain
climb your sleeve with the tread of expertise
rivulets run rapid in the canyon of clavicle
flooding sound from the cave of the voice you carried
washing stone and pounding words into the stream
of every moment and hour in between
17 comments | posted in poetry in motion, what keeps me up at night