May 08 2009
The night is open
to spring air and starlight
jasmine scents
and running water
Cigarettes in the dark
ice cubes rattle
in upheld glass
melt in silence
Dogs roam
sharing sentry
standing watch
beneath a hidden moon
copyright 2009
Sep 17 2008
Inevitable
moths drawn to flame
in endless circling dance
fluttering wings
sharing breath
exchanging color
and flow
Inevitable
sun to moon
one chasing the other
across the sky
stars standing in between
dark swallowing
light
meteor storms and
rainbows exhale
Inevitable
passion and heat
bleary eyed, wet embrace
consume and extinguish
the dance of
bodies in raptured motion
the breath of desire
whispered and bitten
on the edge of the
earth
which shatters and
ceases
Inevitable
yes
inevitable
copyright 2008
Sep 04 2008
It was a warm breath at the back of her neck. A poem committed to memory, yet never read. It stalked her - followed her wherever she went. Ever present, yet impossible to capture.
Sometimes quiet, like a low hum that murmurs in the background. Sometimes as tempetuous as a summer lightning storm, crackling against a sultry sky. Usually it was a persistant song that hung in the air and whispered her name. That hovered over her bed at night and crawled into her dreams - teasing her, caressing her and forcing her sleep-heavy eyes open. To look.
But it could not be seen with eyes - only felt in the everywhere of the space. Waiting. Holding its breath and pretending it wasn’t. It was a mirror toward which she reached and was met with a duplication of her own outstretched arm. The heat that emanated from that reflection back at her said, ‘yes, I’m here.’
And she had conversations with herself about it - hoping she was simply going mad and soon would find a medication to turn it off and send it packing. Though she knew it was not madness, nor hallucination - it was real and palpable, dimensional, tactile, smellable, tasteable. With the ability to travel over time and space effortlessly, finding her wherever she was, wherever she hid. It was a surge of heat that shot through her core, found the place where it could nest and call home.
Sep 03 2008
War is wrong
yes, better they should
be murdered in their sleep
by their own leaders
Capitalism is evil
yes, better to leave them
in abject poverty
and starving their
lives away
The western world is a maniac
yes, better to keep
technology and science
to ourselves and let
the herd thin out
Change is good
yes, change for its
own sake
is the salve that
calms the masses
no action necessary
Words are the solution
yes, sure to stop
any malevolent force
seeking to anihilate
whatever is left
There is nothing
left to
fight for
yes, let’s all
play dead
and no one will
try to kill us.
copyright 2008
Aug 26 2008
I was, I am
and that
never changed
but I did
I leapt and I spun
but the new shoes
never quite fit
Bare feet are best
A floppy hat
and garden gloves
teach me more
than my recent travels
and books of foreign text
Beer is better than
martinis
no fruit, thank you
A tattered map
leads me home
The ocean is
my compass to peace
No voice
changes
That
copyright 2008
Aug 22 2008
Sarah held the
magnifying glass up
to the clues
her vision was waning
and a pain
of mystery knotted her
neck and shoulders
“I know it’s here….
If only it would say
Hello..” she mumbled.
But Sarah knew that
puzzles could be
resolutely mute when they
wanted to be - and this one
did
She picked up the
hand mirror and
lost a dazzle into the
silver handle
Both of Her peered back
from the beveled glass
one smirking
one laughing
They would be of no help
So she put on the kettle
which sang an
aboriginal tune so
intoxicating
she next found herself
down the rabbit hole
again
dressed in ceremonial robes
and wearing a particularly
bejeweled mask
Alice stood next to her
and tried to lead Sarah
through the maze
but she couldn’t move
“Time has fixed me, all right,”
she said to Alice
who only smiled and whispered,
“What will be, will be. It’s only a matter of
Time.”
And the teapot
began a lilting soft
jazz that
brought her back
to the kitchen table,
all of her books,
like children seated there,
chattering excited prose
Sarah fled the kitchen
for the quiet of her
bed
“I must sleep,” she wept
But a thousand dreams
barred entry to that wish
She climbed out the window
and leapt to a
low-hanging pink cloud
that was soft
and easy to embrace
“I do not belong here,
either.”
A smile in the distant
sky
bade her most-South
and built a footbridge
across the ocean
though Sarah knew
not to place a step there
for it would disappear
behind her and
she would never find her way
Home
again
Sarah pulled ruby slippers
from apron pockets
and clapped them together
Hoping for a tornado
a swirl of Force
to put her right again
but the weather remained
temperate
and she continued to
float….
Aug 19 2008
There is a light here
that shines from the moon
and sends me gentle
to sleep
There is a song here
that comes from the ocean
and guides me safely
to truth
There are colors here
that come from the sun
and sends me quiet
to my place
There is a whisper here
that comes from your tears
and embraces me eternal
to life
I am not gone
I am just waiting
Until
we meet
again
(for my dear friend, Kim. love, sarah)
copyright 2008
Always the beautiful answer who asks a more beautiful question
—
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