Poem 117: Mean Reds
July 22, 2021 § Leave a comment
Mean Reds
This is the hue of my Mean Reds.
This is cruel and wild and violent.
I want to bite something til it bleeds,
pin it down,
and mock its cries;
I want to bite something while it screams.
This sharp-clawed thing has a dragon’s wings.
I know what kind of meal it needs.
It wants to tear my heart
out of me;
It wants to taste the flavor of that meat.
I want to bite something and make it bleed.
I want to swallow blood and vomit fire.
I want to destroy
what I can’t acquire:
the balance of my spirit at peace.
I want to feel flesh cut under my teeth;
I want to rage until I am spent.
Blood and tears have the same salt taste;
This is the hue of my Mean Reds
a darker color than Holly meant.
…
10/22/2005
Bird-in-Hand
June 15, 2020 § Leave a comment
because you have had them before
colorful feathers out of reach
and the bird in hand
understands the feeling.
There is room for more
but while you are chasing
what left you empty-handed
the one you have
feels unneeded.
The open sky offers her
a warmer hold.
October 2006
Even Angels
April 18, 2020 § Leave a comment
In the easement between
God’s will, and the plans of devils,
where the roots and leaves of time
mingle without season,
a girl can pass.
Girls belong neither to the apple
nor to the garden;
we are not made of clay,
that mud of Eden,
though we inherit the stride
of our mothers who answered betrayal
with a step that crushes serpent’s heads.
Even angels cannot walk with us
without bearing burdens,
not while we are only girls:
the blush of knowledge new in our cheeks,
the breath of creation in our chests.
The power of girls
passing between —
we lose it when we lose
pieces of ourselves
to the odd devils of changing age.
May 2016
In 2005
December 21, 2019 § Leave a comment
Do you remember what you came here for:
Green tea & Rock and Roll,
The convictions of a monkey’s mind,
Liberty for All?
What conspiracy theories?
Speak, I’m listening ~
the maddening musings of a misunderstood mind,
the babbling of a not very tortured soul,
Incoherent ramblings
Powered by paranoia,
Fluff, flowers, and verbosity;
Your life can be used as a bad example to others.
Where the rivers meet,
All the lights are blinding;
The trees are singing water.
Between a rock and a hard place
a Sanctuary of darkness;
Raw wonders
in this other corner of the web.
Let me tell you about my boat
Because for some reason, you want to know me
I’m innocent, by standards.
I am your Painted Whore.
If you let me… I will change your world
One day I’ll be famous… I hope
Sunglasses help.
Time to move on.
My assault on the world begins now
The reluctant nomad
on Journeys through writing
Making love to language
Sudden inspiration.
Scratched into the door,
a Chronicle of a life measured out in coffee spoons.
Peace found here ~
Sometimes you have it, sometimes you don’t
…
11-6-2005
.Sleep Together.
August 30, 2018 § Leave a comment
This warm presence nearby
trusts me enough to
sleep
at my side.
Placid, even breaths
measure the stretches of our time
together.
On the crest of slumber, I hear
his heart,
a soothing sound, as steady as waves.
When I, too, sink into the deep
our dreams will mingle like
sand and tide,
the tangled track of our waking days
Washed blank when spirits
meet and part
and bodies rest, touching.
August 27, 2005
Aya
August 23, 2018 § Leave a comment
All the doors and windows open,
you left the place where you had lived,
and the home we had together
will be so, so empty of you now.
Today I will celebrate you,
Every day I will celebrate you,
who loved me
In a way I understood.
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
Everlasting Wicks (A Solstice Poem)
December 20, 2016 § Leave a comment
Everlasting, or so they claim
these short lengths of fiber optic glass
soaked in oil that never pours, only spills,
sitting cold, in dirty lamps.
When nothing is forever
Why would I believe the name?
Still I try
as the match flame runs to meet my skin
as the blue races to the cardboard’s end
a brief attempt at the frayed and blackened wicks
that are surely plugged with soot, and besides
all but one of the lamps are dry.
Nothing… nothing. Nothing
is forever, except maybe the blackness up the flue
which looks like it goes on eternally
Even the black stain of a year of candleflames
comes out of my nailbeds with enough soap
and thorough scrubbing
A crèche, of a kind
a home for foundlings, candles in motley, mismatched
I put my spirit to the task at hand
On knees that willingly kneel, I sweep
the tailings of a spent year
the broken pieces in hearth and heart and mind
On this longest of nights
on this shortest day, I bring out small stars
match flame to candlewick, candle flame to candle
On a whim, I touch the one glass lamp with oil,
that so called everlasting wick,
and as if to prove me wrong
it lights.
12/22/2004
Undefined
October 23, 2012 § Leave a comment
“Undefined”
I crave the white silence
the quiet room
and the weightless light
Prism’s colors before they shatter
and sound in slumber
I crave the unwritten page
without lines
before my stain
thoughts in chrysalis, still without wings
words in slumber
I crave the blank future
the undefined
unraveled fate
memory untethered, scattering ashes
buried past
