Friday, December 19, 2014

the winter road

she rides the soft
shoulders of daydreams
inevitably
sliding down to the cold pavement

reality is so concrete

if you’ll pardon the pun
pardon the plain
yet not so plain

there are hidden hills
and twisting turns just
around go look around
go slow
those ice-blue eyes those thoughts that
drift

could hold on fierce and tight
if she could name that crazy-restless road
at last
could sleep or wake

no more middle, no more dwelling
in the gloaming
that hard pavement scuffs her skin
so easy

no question which is stronger
yet when the pavement breaks
it is broken
when her skin has bled it will
heal again

again, again,
scarred but whole
not yet wholly scarred
still
 
tender
soft-shouldered dreamer
this traveler unknown
along the winter road

Tuesday, September 2, 2014

on patience or not

When is it my turn?
     Life doesn’t give turns.
     Life just is.
There’s no cosmic queue.
     No millennial lottery.
Life just is,
and is,
     and is.

Thursday, June 19, 2014

as the front moves through


and the wind is blowing and it caresses my skin
but not as sweetly as you would
          the wind is simply the wind
                    no strings
                    no disappointments
                              no intimacies
                    but it sings me a song, sometimes, one I can never wholly translate into
                    words, cannot break down to little pieces
and surely that is love too
because it’s beautiful

and surely I would look out of place in a lovely moment like that
          anyway
rumpled, careless me, with windblown hair
and penchant for doing the awkward thing
          are you out there
somewhere?
          I can’t tell.
          I am a simple thing
          yet so, so complex, so full of tiny
          twists and turns I cannot wholly see myself
          no matter how I spin
          and leap and hop
                    my lonely dance
this lonely dancer, crooked hem draggling, somehow—
          dirty already?
the earth is soft beneath my big bare feet
          it tickles and I laugh
                    hike up my skirt
          quit thinking about how I must look
          long enough
                    to be 

flowerheads bob in the wind in the garden
          where are you?
I am no beacon in the darkness I do not shine
a hidden prize or one not worth the finding
          I can’t tell.
          any more than I know whether or not
          I’ll ever be kissed down the line
                    of my spine
          and cherished in a broken but wonderful
          human way
find me the human way
          I should know but apparently I don’t

when will this ramble end?
          when will the pity party, the fantasy, the yearning,
          the idle woolgathering stop?
                    summer mornings and fall afternoons
                    someone who pauses to really listen
                    to see what’s below the surface
I yearn for this, even I
even big little old young ugly beautiful me
          and the flowerheads bob
                    the wind blows
                              the leaves rustle

Thursday, December 19, 2013

mileage

and the runner was the edge
and the edge was soft
and in that soft, that soft, that sweet
and tangy sweat, hard breathing
and ache; twinge
and creak of bone, of joint
and jarring impact
and moments of light, of light, so light
and easy

Monday, October 14, 2013

legend

and the sparks flew down from the mountain
and the shots rang out from the sea
and he slew the restless wanderer
and made himself home for me

Wednesday, August 21, 2013

more/less


and when the world
comes crashing in
like it always do
I’ll

every time the sun rises
paints the sky
I say
Hey, God
well done
love you
too

hold you tight
in my mind
if nothing
else
dreaming
of into for
the reality

orange-maroon globe
this morning
perfectly round
delicate
strong
and set
in hazy summer dawn
sky
misty gray-pink

Monday, August 19, 2013

eight bells

that
cussed white dress
lulls me into
security
by standing
so quietly in the
corner
of my mind
hands folded
behind her
back
until the odd
bewildering
moments when she
leaps
forward
voluminous
skirts flapping
and fluttering
to remind me she’s
there
and isn’t
going
anywhere