Floating Leaves
October 10, 2017 § Leave a comment
As measured as the falling sand encased
within its glass pours its grains,
Our delicate threads of friendship baste
the pieces of a new pattern.
With Silver Needles, we stitch the hour.
Steeped into the tea we share
A quiet kind of renewal is fixed ~
A steady seam, a sure repair,
And the tranquility of floating leaves,
Fashioned to unfurl like a flower,
To mend what I would have thrown away.
With a paper crane I give wings
to the words I cannot shape to say.
Invitations, and green tea ~
These things hold a simple power.
9/13/2005
Summer’s Day
September 10, 2017 § Leave a comment
His love is like a summer’s day
More lovely than William’s sonnet
Like the restless wind of a woodland glen
And all the scents upon it.
Herbs crushed beneath my step
Only mimic his skin’s perfume
Beneath my lips like raspberries
And sweet as a wild bloom
He is as warm as the sleepy sun
And calm as the afternoon
His embrace is like the comforting silk
Of a moth’s unbroken cocoon
I wish my summer’s day would last
Til May becomes December
But summer days I cannot keep
I only must remember.
5/13/1998
The earth trembled, but only where I stood
August 10, 2017 § Leave a comment
The earth trembled, but only where I stood
And the sky, no longer blue, split a seam
Shivering, I gasped within the fog
As in the moment waking from a dream
Overturned, the basket of the world
Spilled out the messy contents of my head
I leaped for down, but upward made my fall
I reached for peace, and found my love instead
My thoughts spin, and from that spindle drops
A thread of rich and variegated hues
And while I sit here plucking at the knots
To salvage wisps of floss that I can use
Then thread through a needle of my hope
And patch the gaping rends within the skies
The earth trembles — but only where I am
As if the universe has grown in size
11/16/07
Come at me sideways
June 5, 2017 § Leave a comment
Come at me sideways
the way these dark clouds slipped over
sidling up with open intention
and no threat
Ever wonder why I let them?
Why the shadow
is as often as the sun?
Come at me sideways
and keep your hands low, and open
Eye contact is a challenge;
avoid it.
Come at me when I can move
because if I feel trapped
by a single, blocked doorway, if I feel cornered
One of us, or both, will have to be hurt
in my break for freedom to breath.
I’m a woman, but that doesn’t mean
that a wild thing doesn’t struggle in my chest
So easily frightened into rage —
I cross my arms to hold it back.
Don’t speak, not even softly
Don’t ask what is wrong
But if you can leave something to draw me out
maybe, this time
we can do better.
11/26/2011
Rose Gold
May 20, 2017 § Leave a comment
Atlantis is sinking into the golden sand
El Dorado will be leaves by dawn light
City of faerie gold
For a gilded day in a century, you can visit this village
but by night, the fog will cover Shangri-La
Oh, and the ochre leaves of autumn blow away
under the veil of night, in Camelot
Come away, come away to the Goblin Market
And when the clock strikes thirteen
We will all fall down
Ashes
Roses
Pale water —
Atlantis is going under the waves
That which was never found
is lost at last.
2009
Persephone Leaves
March 31, 2017 § Leave a comment
A fight is best for us mortals
who look forward to better weather
As long as our health is good ~
Better to die in autumn.
A fight is best
a stormy fight
so that Persephone can leave her lover
in a hot rage.
Her mother’s disposition becomes sunny
when she can spend a late March day
disparaging her daughter’s lord.
Persephone weeps in April
A touch of conflicted homesickness
Tears so light and soft
that they barely bend the flowers that
bloom in her footsteps
2011
Persephone’s Regret
March 20, 2017 § Leave a comment
Love me like Persephone
Who sees spring return
And regrets six seeds
hesitantly plucked
When the whole fruit
was in her fair hand…
Love me not.
Small Birds
March 10, 2017 § Leave a comment
Small birds complain in the softly falling rain
too light for the cover of my hood
it falls like a kiss from a friend.
I breath the sweetened air
as I walk uphill
and by the time the rainfall grows
I am walking on the broad way
among the cars and the crows
who never complain, but state.
Black bodies sleek wet or dry
They say a small bird’s egg
would make a fine meal
and pull greasy burger bags,
last night’s trash, from the bins.
Sometimes, I have something to tell you
that does not matter any greater
than the complaints of small birds
or the detritus of the expired night.
So like the crescendo
of this morning’s rain
here is my kiss.
2/11/10
“Sealed”(early draft)
February 14, 2017 § Leave a comment
Words like these must be written in careful lines,
To keep the truth of my feeling ensnared,
Every letter caressed with slow and conscious care,
Every part behaved, contained, confined,
My meaning is bound in strokes of ink
Laid quietly across the smooth, calm page;
It’s caught in the folds of a paper cage,
Barred from release and held back from the brink.
2/16/2005
Wings
February 10, 2017 § 1 Comment
I wanted wings, but for more than to fly:
To feel the growing of their folded weight
Close-pressed against my body while I lie
Enchambered in a still, suspended state
Spinning deep dreams like a cocoon silk thread;
Then when I wake, to stretch their wonderous span
With caution as I crawl out of my bed
And, drying, flutter like a painted fan
My colors with a slow, sensual sweep;
To bask under the sun’s lingering kiss,
To let the air caress away my sleep;
Beyond the wish to fly, I wanted this;
To show someone the breadth of my feelings
Given their freedom in the form of wings.
10/6/2005
Cris de Borja 