Tag: love
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It is
the curling black wick of a tea candle, softened with time and shiny gold threads leading me nowhere it’s the cheap, blue pencil sharpener whose blades give points to some pencils and chew deep divots in the rest it’s rock stacks and dried flowers; my god is it rock stacks & dried flowers whose lines…
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It feels like summer
but it isn’t slow mornings and extra sunlight early entry to the most talked about concerto, of the year The red-butted bumblebees are kissing raspberry flowers again last Sunday, I witnessed the inaugural flight of our beloved backyard Monarch The kids have popped up their red & gray, sleeps-4-tent beside the undergrown strawberries and the ripe breakfast radish It isn’t summer yet but…
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MIRRORS for Waverly Pearl
she brings me a piece of sun-bleached white paper- she wants to show me what she’s drawn at school today I see a dog, with wings happy and outside clear as day in its left hand the dog is holding a wand with a heart at its center to the left of the purple winged dog there is a thought…
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but we were starlings
and it was the kind of lonely without a bottom or a top just a free fall thru an ocean to a floor on top of a great big spinning planet an emptiness void of edges even and still it was assumed we’d asked for it made demands and offers, wishes really to be dropped…
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Coils
Like a pot on a windowsill I long for more air more earth the glowing wink in a night sky The give of Terra Cotta is still, somehow, so unforgiving. From my perch lookout beside the windowsill I see the soft, round starts of pea plants how they’ve made their way into the tulips (in…
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It was Spring
and so, I suppose time to review our love our love like a seed time-stamped and day-blind a cosmic connection in a coat We both know, all these years in not every spark, not every seed, not every love gets too nor is meant to break soil breath air hold sunlight take water flower bare fruit seed and return Some seeds like love …
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eulogy for a mother
on her birthday I drink my coffee black with two sugars, like she did. There isn’t a single cloud in my coffee on March 28th, only the gentle clank of a silvered teaspoon against the lip of my favorite coffee cup. This most comforting sound can be heard from anywhere in the house. Deep chestnut…
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torn bread
hot steam rising a cooling pot the Colorado moon, black as night cold ear pressed a thinning wall a sightless chickadee her January tune lost anchors (of) my i’s wings (right off) my back how to unbreak the broken
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ars poetica*
I miss the curve of you your long, snaked lines pinked with meaning meaning only, I (will never fully) understand the fire I contain (for you) is not fire at all it is cold and clear and terrible; ripe, round mountains peaks of a book an explosion of sky the thick neck of a leaf heavy with gravity here, I am crazy and strange and it is revered: my crazed strangeness; oxygenated ambition, …
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A pansy grew
from a green pot filled with last summer’s lily bulbs A pansy grew in brown soil, rich with holes of desperate squirrels A pansy grew in late November after weeks of soft frost and no running water A pansy grew her center a violet butterfly her wide wings petaled white A pansy grew and I knew I’d keep…
santos scribes 