Alchemist

stretch and push
knead and stretch
pull with shoulder
push with chest
smooth and warm
work the dough
cuddle it quick
(like powdering baby's bottom)
place it not-too-close
to the bright hearth
halve and shape it
pat it with pride
he may be the breadwinner
but I am the
alchemist

Resonance

Resonance might explain
how your soul knew
what mine craved,
placing words lithe and terrible
into my empty hands.

Whence did you come
and how are you called?
What constellation
gave sign that my
heart was ripe, my mind
supple enough to recieve
your verse?

Darkest wisdom of spirit
whispers you are one
who will not betray.
Ever true to instinct,
bolstering me with language
strong, surprising and new.

Yet your quiet economy
of eloquence overwhelms
me like a tidal wave
and, flushed, I walk away.

Cemetary Trees

In hallowed ground
grows a mighty oak.
Cool grey stones
cluster beneath,
chicks under a hen.
As it's roots explore
sanctified ground
does it nourish on
the wisdom of the
beloved dead?
Would an infusion
of leaves bring
insight?
Flour from acorns
unlock the past?

It gives one a chill,
the loves and tragedies
of the entombed
living on in leaf,
imbuing the tree
with miasma of dread.

Skirting Defenses

Tying tongue, hands, lips
and leaving eyes to record
every movement of your forearm
and the stories displayed there.

Skirting defenses you got so
far under my skin that I shall
never entirely excise you
from my soul. Utterly
unnerving and extremely
courteous you break hearts
so cleanly, leaving no
passion of debris
to betray your prescence.

Holiday Wish

I want to be a good thing
that happens to you
like winning $5 in the lotto
or geting a thick, creamy
slice of coconut cake for lunch.
I want to love you, give of myself
to you but my heart is run
through with slimy distrust and grimy fear.
I shudder to think the cinnamon
of your lips might wash it clean and clear.

Silence

You shall never see my verse
and be safe from Medusa pen.
Superstitious, I fear my pen's
jealously which with charming
phrases slit the hearts
of other loves, their blood
pouring forth a grievous waterfall.
Please be satisfied with my lips
and never hunger for the Pandora's
box I've built of ink.

Requiem

Imperfect, yet your image
beams too brightly for my eyes
to follow with muddy boots
and tongue blakened with lies.

It's said all men are equal
but this is untrue.
The world needs the valiant
and I'd have died for you.

Fire Flood

I'm meteoric,
blazing,
eager to consume.

Full green flame,
solar tongues flashing
with every stride.

They all know it,
see it in my eyes.
I'm in heat:
I could shred you with a smile.

Swollen,
a river bursting
it's thirsty banks:
you can smell it,
mud and magnolia.

Swept away by my tide,
shivering and spent,
in early morning light
see my breath steam.

Feel your flesh prickle,
think of cool fingertips
sparking green bolts
flowing down your back.

Evoke hungry response,
drown you in molten fire.

The Lord God (phoenix)

bright father
germinator
surpassing finality
of death
taking it beyond
to natural extension
life bursting from ashes

He Is Risen

Wind keen as knives,
coldest disdain,
beats vainly
against the window.

He is risen.
Sun that waned
now shines full bright,
waxing fat.

Light returned
coaxing green finery
from frosted earth.

Mr. Fleischman

your words
have weight
momentum
grace
seed-like
they nestle
in dark places
of spirit
sprout
glow
grow
tendrils of joy
creeping
slowly
warmly
sparkling veins
rooted in
green silent tongue
of humanity

Hashbrowns

Your roots go deep,
ancestry of tubers.

Seeing through darklness,
multitudinous eyes
drug into blinding light,
scrubbed, skinned,
shredded into
raindrops of spudding wisdom.

Kiss of hot iron and butter
elevates you
to culinary delight.

Wholesome tater,
golden amber sunshine,
passing into
my vast humid darkness
to begin to see again.

American Family

American family, democratic,
every decision reached by consensus
painful politeness at each turn
you chafe, gypsy-eyes twinkle
kind, blunt impulsiveness
served up with a side of smartass
seduces you to anarchy

Chaplin With Brakes

Life's buffet:
sumptuous spread
of temptation.

Bickering triumvirate
rules my psyche:
mind, heart and heat
each lust
for different men.

Triad of forbidden fruit.

Let them fuss:
I claim diet,
leave banquet,
self-respect intact.

Aloneness

Alone in times of sorrow
is a burden hard to bear,
no one to give you comfort
and wipe away each tear.

Yet to have glad tidings
when no one seems to care
is a deep darkling aloneness
and kin to true despair.

Upon Finding A Bear Well-Groomed

You combed your unruly mane
and my heart's hand leapt
to it's gaping mouth in fear.

Tell me you are not tamed,
domesticated,
a housecat
yawning at the world.

We spoke idly, politely,
my hands screaming the whole time,
aching,
to send your hair
arcing
this way and that
in frenzied expression
of the passion
(I know)
lies within.

You have begun to exist

You have begun to exist
in the periphery of my mind.

I smile at a passing thought,
present it like a prize plum
to the ghost of you
gaining ground in my soul.

Fenris

Fenris I call you!
Yet you do not bark, snarl or growl
nor dull your fangs on divine flesh
but using the sly insinuative arts of your father
you sucked the sweetness from my heart
and devoured my soul.

Pretty and lithe pup,
I should like to bind your jaws
so that I may stroke your shaggy pelt,
damp and musky with sweat and dew,
picking the burrs and thorns free.

To do so would cripple you,
your eyes would lose their sky-bright luster,
and who can tell what else
I might lose trying to cage
such a terrible and magnificent wolf?

Morning After

How safe, cherished and present
I felt in your arms that first night
(more so than with any other lover).

In the harbour of our embrace
you rushed my senses like a storm.

Blinded by your kisses
I did not notice my heart
setting sail for yours.

Awake too early & (magic shattered)
bereft of heartlight (mine & yours)
I found my visa expired,
my lips deported from your shore.

My Town: Evening

ballerina clouds scurry cross the sky
mountain ridges loom dark in distance
proud small town trees puff out in full leaf
tidy frame cottages beam soft pastels
fireworks orgasm over the football field
ball players marshal, padded,
in royal garb on the field
young men in a war without consequences
as people smile encouragingly
main street storefronts are dark
only the Circle K beacons in the gloaming
the town dims the house lights
leaving lit only a few small stages
for us to play upon

Wolf Pen Gap

Traversing Wolf Pen Gap
I descend the steep slope
peopled with strong trees
proud of their photosynthetic attire.

On my way up the mountain
I traveled fast and loud, unobserving,
but now I amble slowly past oak and pine
listening to the soft gurgle of rain…
humidity creating a cool womb…
chill, moist breezes lap neck and ears…

I grow serene in the
nurturance and surety
of the tenacious spirits
emerging heaven bound
from the steep mountainside.

Bluegrass at the Book Nook

Beneath the lilies of old Mexico
A courtly dance of bird and mountain
Exudes from deep-chested guitar
By soft paned window light.
Eyes brighten with rhythmic nods
Recalling dear love lost,
Beloved souls we speak with
Now only in fond dreams,
And caressing tender pain
Of love fresh as tigerlilies in spring..

Bella Luna

The moon fell past the trees
Into the clearing
Like a spotlight for some stage
Where forbidden lovers tryst.

Bella Luna is so bright
It seems she searches the night
For something lost in shadow.

While I marvel at her beauty
She shines an indignant
Question at my solitary state
Wondering where my partner can be.

Yet I do not feel her radiance wasted
For in my sole wondering gaze
She is a gift precious to behold.

Faery Morn

Mist obscures mountain and tree
Leaving only a pewter strip of road
Before me in the silver dawn.
I fancy that the road no longer leads
Where it led me the day before
but will transport me to a land
strangely enchanted with lotus.
In such a place I might forget
The brook’s voice and stone’s whisper
Bound in forgetful daydreams
Of sidhe sights and fey sounds.

Friendship Cooled

How dare you? In a fit
Of youthful indiscretion
You muddied my hero
And now he cannot be mended.
Voice fresh as mountain cataract
And hands quietly moving as wolf-song
Are shattered with drunken shouts.
A small flame of heartlight
Snuffed to go slinking among
Shadowy regrets and base desires,
A hope lost to vagrant despair
I leave for farewell at your door.

Autumn Arriving

Night creeps stealthily onward
So that we hardly notice
The Equinox circling silently round.
September skies feature twilight
Unfashionably early for my taste.
Cool evenings on porch swings
Soon to become the stuff of daydreams
As winter grins kindly and coldly
Over the duskly purple mountains.

Mountain and Valley

Careworn mountains rest easy
As a blanket on a napping giant.
The giant’s hair never turns gray,
It burns with sultry passion
Then falls away.

The mountains hold the river
Close within it’s bosom of valleys
Like a precious necklace of
Grey-green silver flecked with
Tiger’s eye shimmer of trout.

Waking in the Wee Smalls

Desire swept across my heart
As wind brushes across a moor
Leaving my senses all ruffled
Blowing open my every window and door.

I stand open, abraded and bruised,
Rustle and tremble as a leaf falling.
I take deep draughts of your rare words,
Loving you as if it were my calling.

Tis a vulnerable season and cool,
The nights want more than blanket’s touch
And my mind knows it’s a want in vain
But my heart won’t listen to such.

The Secret

Cheshire cat moon grins at my room
Through the cricket-filled night
For he knows my secret.

It is precious and small
Like a Byzantine relic
And far warmer than saints bones.

I treasure it, savor it fully,
For I know it shall dissolve
With the fleetness of time turning.

Yet I shall wear my pearl for a season,
Admiring it’s golden luster
And not dwell on my vinegary imperfections.

Mountain Pagan's Hymn

Should I take you to my temples
You would find no pulpit there
And little congregation
To yawn or nod or stare.

My churches have no altars,
They’re run straight through with brooks,
Green-stained windows of new leaves
And mossy pews of rocks.

Trees my o’er arching cathedrals
In every hollow, cove and glen
And so I worship dutifully
Down where the stream bed bends.

The God’s voices are a mountain breeze,
A mountain stream the sweetest choir
And my silent worship of silent prayer
Fills me with strange and holy fire.

When Chris Plays the Banjo

A burst of mountain song
Set my blood a leaping!
It pulled me spinning round in dance
Far from sweet sorrow’s keeping.

Tapping eager toe in time,
Song fills the tree-arced hollow,
In my heart the banjo’s ring
Still shall echo on the morrow.

Wild Woman

I am the Wild Woman
And I am unbound.

Civilization is but a veneer,
The real me howls at the moon.

M y sentiments are not appropriate,
My kisses too hot for pecks,
My hands to eager to gently caress.

I will love you wholly
Or not at all.

I’ll not be your tame hawk
To murmur politely on your arm.

I’ll wheel wildly towards the sun
And lovingly pluck your eyes out.

Gnarled

Shadings of blue
rise and arch and dip
into the fuzzy forests
of the horizon.

A large twisted tree stands solitary,
ruling the knoll,
dramatic against the clouds.

Like an old woman
who has kept her pride
while losing all contact with her kind.

Yet not so lonely perhaps
verdant grass and moss
surround her trunk,
a robin creates a nest
with her cast off twigs...


...but no, she holds herself aloft
up in her sanctimonious realm.

When the wind embraces
she only backs away.

Talon

I can think of a dozen
reasons to walk away.

I forget them all...

...caught up in the swing of your coat,
the wrinkling of your jeans,
your fascination with eagles,
every bend and curl of your hair.

You smell of wild places
of melodies spare, arching and clear.

I imagine you floating high above
indigo mountains, sharp blue eyes
with the ability
to outline heart and soul.

Dracona

Dark scales cut
Through ruddy flesh

Blood thickens
Crusts black

Bony protrusions
Impale muscle

Humanity stretches
Evolve unfolding limbs

Nails deepen
Lengthen
Sharpen

Eyes tilt Asiatic
Muzzle expands

Angry acid gurgles
Inflaming senses

Girl-child soars
No longer earthbound

She views earth on high
Clears dull deadwood
With flick of fiery tail

Elements

You fly, fletched keenly,
thudding sure and sound to
your true mark.

Of eagles, flames and mountains
you are formed.

You are a spear striking true.

I ripple, eddying lightly,
swirling up and around
my true vision.

Of salmon, lakes and valleys
I am formed.

I am a river winding to the sea.

Hephaistos

Hephaistos
Ambidexter

I,
your daughter,
seek you.

I have so much to learn.
In some wayside garage
you'd give me Coke in green glass,
teach me to adjust a manifold intake.

We'd club-foot shuffle to B.B. King,
sand red oak for a table,
speak with action as much as word.
Full silence in steady rhthym
of hammer and anvil.

Overclock a laptop,
give it pimp-daddy speakers,
fix heels on cowboy boots.

At sunset we'd wash the grease and sawdust
from our hands, rinse clean, bright.

Over fresh salad and Greek wine
you'd tell me not to worry.
You never got the finer points
of dating either...

Neruda Woman

full woman of Neruda
deep, oceanic, tanged with salt
warmth, radiant, magmic
woman of the mountain
her curves and edges
pine bristles and cornsilk
her hidden places
secret, dark caves
mystery of blood and bone
resilient, recieving all
absorbing steel and iron
tender synergy
holy catalyst of mankind
morphing violence to ecstasy
woman, void, eternally useful
embracing, mutable
channeled intimate fire

Yule 2005 in 2 Movements

1.

what does Aunt Sue want?
remove tag, think me cheap at $10
kids want, gimmee, want
just as they've been taught
wrap it nice, nothing cheap to show
so busy with presents
so expensive, the presents
food and conversation suffer
under stress of presents
sucking joy from (holy)day

2.

give me a fire
mysterious wine
gentle laughter
no deadlines, phones, TV's
let two or more gather together
the Gods bask in, inspire
aura of content

Unsought

Older than I , you laugh and play
with abandon of a child.

I could be your child,
I am that much younger.

From metal frames twinkle eyes
full of merry constellated tales.
Full warm lips edge laughter lovingly.

In grayest December you carry sunshine
badly hidden in your coat pockets,
like twitch of moustache betrays
teasing sense of humor.

My eyes slide skipping lustily
over furring greyed thatch,
generous benevolent tummy.
Logic holds firm heart's reins
but...

...when you playfully attack,
flirt with wads of paper
to stick in my hair, muss my 'do,
you brand me with a blush.

this poem sux

boots dancing boots boots
boots dancing boots

black as night
soft as doves
clickety clackety heels
toes pointy the way
souls hard as stone
clickety clackety heels

boots dancing boots boots
boots dancing boots

Carly

this is not about you
but you think it is.

this is not how you recall it
but this is how it was.

I'm outside, observing,
recording all my vision.


outside there is no other.
there is only me,
wind and woodsmoke.

Bamboo Paper

write to me and hold nothing back.

give me your grief, joy, worry,
humor, answers, questions.

don't hesitate, I am of the earth,
I can absorb it all.

occasionally I erupt, lashing
flames of kindness and anger
burning with equal passion.

it passes and once again
I'm as low and lovely as water,
cleansing hands,
bearing sorrows far asea,
filling crevices with lovingkindness.

not appropriate or polite
but mostly memorable.

so write to me and hold nothing back.

Guarding Asgard

there is one who waits
beyond madly moonly motion
one whom you do not know

white as seafoam is this one
so quietly one waits
watching so closely
the shift of gear decisively quick
thighs cocked like pistols
requesting permission to fire
beggars of arms pleading in silence
fog of Jericho raising a wall of sound

still, one waits
one is Giver
waiting for the better Reception
one sees fear
in genuine imitation truth, 90 proof
spoiling easy laughter
harshing early morning lights
pulls children's hands back
(DON'T TOUCH!)

one sits at the foot of the bridge
shifts one's cloak against cold
one waits and watches
remembers myth of two
two is one one waits for

Reed Bent Against the Wind

reed bent against the wind
illusions of simplicity
cloak palpable reality

iced silk winds
speak of your hands

if they were cold,
chilled in October gale,
I would warm them with cocoa
fog your glasses
soft tender kisses
for each callus and wrinkle of them
sampling each finger tip
ruffling hair,
like greying fur,
while warming chilled ears
with soft pink tongue

mind rejects autumn fantasy
leaves float by
veined as hands

Melange Memory

ice-pick eyes, electric blue
burned upon my irises of Williamsburg
after-image of addiction
shameful Eve begging for Adam
eternal imprint on internal vision
forgeting lovely hazel glances....

Faun Love-Song

dearest, sweetest faun
red-scarfed and golden
the bluest intensity
any eye has known
tea kettles and pan-pipes
gentle conversation by firelight

as a child I loved thy sweet goat-feet
older now, I adore every hairy tuft
eager furred patches of glory
no Bacchanalia tempts me
Pan's call falls on deaf ears
for I love thou only, Mr. Tumnus

Carol

fake tree
great green bottle brush
bits of fancy food
still clinging from the wash
illuminate you
stick a hat on your head
hold hands, sing noel

Mary to Elizabeth

All children are gifts, miracles,
and mine shall betray no common flaw.
Angels are more rare than prayers,
more common than new moons.

Respectable even in barreness
you know not what you deride,
speaking blasphemy of pride.

Elizabeth to Mary

We were too practical for miracles
so when my barren tree bore fruit
my love and I were dumbstruck.

Such joy to bear a living treasure
crafted from years of love
and how cruel of you to steal my thunder
by claiming divinity for your bastard-born.

My Muse

I have a Muse
written in flesh and bone.

No ethereal faery
or luxurious goddess:

He's a flash of sinew and steel
closing mouth fit only for gossip,
uncapping pen, ink pulsing,
swift flowing as life-blood.

No pale raven-haired psychopomp
or merry satryr pied-piper:

He's a drop of amber passage to sky,
luminous mortal Apollo,
whom I surprised in darkling light
illuminating forbidden intimacy.

I sketch him over and over,
for seven mythic years,
honing craft for penance
of violating holy taboo.

True Bard

How lovely, to be only troubadour,
singing songs of joy and praise
but I am true bard and cannot conceal it.

My pen has sharp fangs,
forked tongue drips
acid and honey
in equal measure.

Did you not learn from Goibnui?
Do you not rightly fear Loki?

Forget lillies and roses,
my skin is maggot-white
flushed with fury
of death-battle plain.

Goodbye Enheduanna

Inanna
you came near
and the mountain did not fear
so you conquered it

I see you
in my brittle anarchy
admirable, terrible, wild
but I do not love you

numinous Bona Dea
veil-wrapped feminine mystery
cackling Baba Yaga
mischevious dark wisdom

they attract my love
my devotion, my prayer

Innana
your mighty warrior-pose
your joyous love-arts
despair too old to breathe

Sir Knight

Sir Knight, let me be your page.

I'd care for your lance
marvelously well.

Spit-polish till it shone,
being ever-so-careful
not to scratch it.

I'd keep it gleaming and glistening
using only natural cleaners,
wholesome and bright.

I'd keep it safe from cold
each night, snug & warm, ensheathed.

I'd expose it regularly
to fierce humid heat
to keep it strong, even-tempered.

My voice would urge you on brightly
to victory at every joust.

Afterwards I would wipe your brow
and tuck you in bed, soft and clean,
and tell you how wonderous
you were on field of battle.

Keep close watch till dawn.

Please, Sir Knight, let me be your page.

All-Father

AllFather,
wise, revered, courageous,
mistrusted.

Your children know
you are not smiling,
a benevolent Father Christmas.
You do not indulge us
with soft, easy answers.

You are a stern parent,
war-leader, Lord of Hosts.
You do what is necessary
to defeat the wolf
that is, was and will be.

Far-Seer,
you need us strong,
break our bones
to knit them even tougher.

If we are at cross-purposes
we bend, supplication unheeded,
for you safeguard
Midgard's survival
with lovingcare
and iron hands.

Untitled

Wishing you were like sunlight
simple,
generous-warm,
optimistic even at dusk.

To seek you
in-between times,
set apart,
holy,
inviolate,
basking in
glowing company.

But...

...you are stone, cool,
rough-hewn,
dazzlingly faceted.

Every surface
revealing
new unyielding
perspective.

Banking warmth stolen from other's.

Brandywine Boy

brandywine boy
melting snow
scattering storms
sliding along my veins
like sunshine nectar
words giggle, glances chuckle
heat banked,
flushed,
joyous,
below columbine eyes

Indigo Moods

Black Moods...
...Blue Moods
but Man, Oh Man!
Ain't nothin like them Indigo Moods...

when every Song
sings your Story.

every HeartBreak
aches with yours
in 3/4 Time.

when No One calls
and there's Nothin' on tv
and a Sunset
you'd die to See
in any other Mood...

...but these Indigo Moods
they Last all Day.

Ain't nothin' you can Do
but let 'em Slip Away....

Dancer

stomping ground
circling fire
revel in song, drum
fitness of the body
dancer casts off
worry & doubt
with every step and cry

whirling in the firelight
gathering the fragments
sewing herself together
the dancer affirms
that, indeed,
she is alive

Evil Again

was I evil again today?
sometimes sunshine
just gets in the way
in humancrafting
die can slip a bit...
irregular, they say

on a roll
driving need
peek in every dark hole
draw demons into light
then tuck them safe down deep
You just want to make me feel guilty
'cause I was evil again....

...but evil is where I play

Color Me Purple

color me (purple)
unwind me in cool grasses
make me the moon
give me twilight

never radiant
(I am the velvet void of night)
if you find me luminescent
it is a reflection of your own fire

smiling, rising to meet
heady warmth
you awaken my spirit
it's growing greenly in your presence
vines entwine me in desire
dewy moss adorns
wrists, neck, spine, vulva
limbs course with strengthening sap

black concave mirror
of my soul
obsessively reflects
your flame
pale face waxes full
(pinking alive)
bathed in another's
burning glory

I Have No Words

I have no words for you.
So square, clean and bright.
You shine softly.
I am certain you must smell of deep woods.
There is no false note in your voice.
No furtive look in your eye.
So noble and true.
You might be Arthur
come to restore the land...
to restore me...

I long to gift you
with verse valiant and true,
but I cringe dirty in your glow.
I have no words worthy of you.

Double Helix

An opaque turquoise bath.
I unclench each muscle
and open a battered copy of
“Death of a Salesman”.
It has been torn,
body half-ripped from spinal cord.
Along the tear dry rot has set in.
Each turned page
progresses the story
and crumbles the paper.
Willy Loman is fragile
behind the brave green cover
emblazoned with critical acclaim.
He falls in angular cream pieces
to the water.
I am laid open, bare,
and as I try to rescue
fragments of Willy they
dissolve into nothing.
The water seems more solid
than I, for I can see
the dreadful empty hollows
and hear the dust-laden wind
howling within.

Appalachian Persephone

neath yonder mountain
sleeps Kori so fair
dewdrops of May
in her auburn hair
Hayden Black did lure her there
to sleep beneath the clay

was after the leaves
had blazed and died
she vowed she'd be
Hayden's bride
whether from loss of love or pride
I cursed that golden day

he spoke of things
so falsely sweet
luring her to the dark damp deep
bitter was my heart's strong keep
and light withered away

Hayden smiles with
oily sheen
swears she'll return
in April clean
as a daffodil
ere come Spring
she'll shine upon the day

no faith I have
in Spring's return
my love it grows
and aches and burns
much grief is all
I can learn
as deep in the earth she lay

Hayden sighs with
wintry content
yet soon his is
that heart that's rent
by my warmth of
summery intent
I'll draw her from the clay

Hymn to the Good Goddess

Bona Dea
Endow us with grace,
passion laughter and vitality.
Enfold us in your dark beauty
that we may clearly see each star.
Kiss us warmly so we may
always feel your love.
Push us insistently so we may
grow in strength and wisdom.
Let us find our reflection in you
that we might know our
true beauty and brilliance.
Fill us with your holy fire
that we might wield
positive power in the world.
May we sing in joyous praise of you
for your glory is ours
and our lives magnify you.
Blessed Be
Magna Mater
Te Amo
Bona Dea

Feathersoul

cloud of starlings
swoop, dip, rise, expand
dark conciousness above bamboo
reality shifts in fluid dance
fluttering eyelash of God
wind-ripple guides convocation
divide, unite, swell, condense, arc!

Myth Reborn

"It was not you" she says
and she repeats it for emphasis.
Twas Odin's Nordic blue-eyes
that lusted after her hips,
wide curves of mountain hiding
a secret fertile valley.
Terrible strength clasped her
with deep mythic longing.
Her reflection in his eyes resolved into vision:
dark-girl-child-poet
bright-blazing-warrior-son
Seduction for offspring?
child to sing the runes...
child to fight the wolf...
She carried an armor that thwarted the climax
and so god left her hungry.
She looks at the kind blonde beard
with translucent blue-sky-eyes.
"It was not you" are her words
and she repeats them for emphasis.

Omens Mistook

omens mistook, distorted
a blind eye turned to the truth
opportunities denied
for it's fear that drives
sleek greyhound of youth

cinnamon sand has run
it's course through hourglass
path steeply grown
once i'd've flown
before metaphysical kick-in-the-ass

Thornbuds

The rose's thorn grins madly,
it pricks the air for words
strung, layered as thoughts,
barbed fragrance of rosy pain.

Hidden among leaves
it's the thorn that creates.

Yet, when it's silk and velvet words
become language richly fragrant
the prickly artist is removed
to give the rose sterile perfection.

Heart pierced by a dozen
dark red thornbuds...

For The Oak

My poor deciduous friend,
braced against your sturdy body
I let my mind and pen wander
many a time.

I arrived today to find you
post-stroke, half your branches
torn and sagging from the
great violence visited upon you
by the storm.

The mighty cairn stones and monument
of a nearby grave are also in disarray.
Enshrouded there is a man
reputed to be so feared
that rough-hewn mountain stone
the town weighed upon his grave
to prevent folk from unearthing
his corpse to be sure and certain
of his demise.

Perhaps the weight of the stone
was so much to bear that he
at last gave forth a great cry,
shifting stone and scarring tree.

I want to comfort my tree
and weep into its wounded bark
but it’s dead and fallen branches
suspend perilously in midair.

Like any fickle-hearted friend
I seek shade under the quiet evergreen,
eyeing the disheveled fortress-grave
with suspicion of bad omen.

The Widower

On still soft summer evenings
I throw my arm across the back
Of the creaking porch swing
As if you were still there to hold.
Once it had a mournful feel
Without your white neck leaning back
Trailing wispy hairs along my skin
But now it’s Shakespearean: I feed
Upon the shadow of lovely imperfection
From memory made dimly whole.

Warrior Song

Dance with me!
I am young and laugh freely.
I long for strength and courage.

Let us clash, caress,
sharpen and clarify ourselves,
one against the other,
one with the other.

Come! Dash headlong into my charge
for I mark you as my adversary
to increase myself against you,
rising to meet your challenge.

In opposition, to become more aware of you
the nerve, the flinch, the flex of you.

I shall measure myself
against the length and breadth of you,
beside the strength and wit of you.

To the winner the precious spoils,
all steadfastness to the victor
in loyalty and good cheer.

Let crimson mouths sing
broadly into the firelight
of our fierce combat,
lusty and bright.