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.
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.
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
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
March 20, 2017 § Leave a comment
Love me like Persephone
Who sees spring return
And regrets six seeds
When the whole fruit
was in her fair hand…
Love me not.
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.
January 10, 2017 § Leave a comment
In the roar of the Twelfth Man she hears the sound of the distant, deep ocean
of her sisters, in the crashing waves, singing from the foam
crying, calling: come home, come home
the Siren peeks over the top of her tower; she whispers as rain mists over Elliott Bay,
I have emeralds to watch over.
In the shriek of jet planes descending, she recalls amorous pleas
of sailors as she pulled them into the embrace of gray death
gasping, gurgling: a breath, a breath
the Siren’s crown is a compass rose; she surveys from Leschi to Harbor Island,
I have a map to treasures.
In her clock tower, high above the streets, the Siren watches scenes
of bicycle couriers dispatched by smartphone, meal desires to fulfill
huffing, heaving: a hill, a hill
the Siren looks over the lights of Magnolia; she sighs as dusk settles,
I have a bejeweled city.