my niece sleeps
tangled in hair and
dreams
imp spirit bottled in a
cream baby
cheeks flushed with
heat
sweet sweat-matted head paused mid-
motion
she seems moored mid some strange
ocean
she seems suspended in some kind of there-less
air
some kind of somewhere
nowhere
Tuesday, April 12, 2011
Saturday, April 9, 2011
Gareth
Pulled into the dark smoke of his voice, his
stories, the pinched flicker of his beautiful
battered cheek, sometimes the voice drags,
sometimes it clanks, sometimes it's hard to hear
it speak, sometimes it swims so smoothly to the
surface of the room, gliding, angelic, through
the ears and the heads up to the roof where it
swoops, circles, hovers like breath, then descends
so slowly, softly, deathly still, a smokey trill
in a burning bush, then the air clears, the wood
creaks, and you are felled with one big push.
stories, the pinched flicker of his beautiful
battered cheek, sometimes the voice drags,
sometimes it clanks, sometimes it's hard to hear
it speak, sometimes it swims so smoothly to the
surface of the room, gliding, angelic, through
the ears and the heads up to the roof where it
swoops, circles, hovers like breath, then descends
so slowly, softly, deathly still, a smokey trill
in a burning bush, then the air clears, the wood
creaks, and you are felled with one big push.
I Can Smell That Dawn
I can smell that dawn
hear it yawning through the trees as though the
morning broke it from a deep deep sleep, woke it
from a sweet sweet fleeting memory, a far retreat
into some fantasy, a place that won't come back
I can feel that lack
I can feel that mourn
just as clearly as I hear that wake and smell that dawn
hear it yawning through the trees as though the
morning broke it from a deep deep sleep, woke it
from a sweet sweet fleeting memory, a far retreat
into some fantasy, a place that won't come back
I can feel that lack
I can feel that mourn
just as clearly as I hear that wake and smell that dawn
Sam
Sam Shepard was so
beautiful!
we sigh
That photo of him biting
her arm!
His beautiful face!
The tragic glow of his wise young-man's
eyes!
The cut of his jaw!
His golden hair! (at least it
looks like it might be golden in these black and
whites)
Oh Sam!
we sigh
He's so sharp and steely now
though
she says
The last photo I saw of him
He looked like a dark
farmer
Staring into a distant
oblivion
beautiful!
we sigh
That photo of him biting
her arm!
His beautiful face!
The tragic glow of his wise young-man's
eyes!
The cut of his jaw!
His golden hair! (at least it
looks like it might be golden in these black and
whites)
Oh Sam!
we sigh
He's so sharp and steely now
though
she says
The last photo I saw of him
He looked like a dark
farmer
Staring into a distant
oblivion
Sunday, April 3, 2011
When We Reconnected
when we reconnected the earth was growing
cold, the
chill was settling in your
hair, there
were regular
rainstorms, everywhere
was
wet, the
streetlights that had streamed with hot regret were fogged into a
freeze, the
breezes were slap-sharp harpies with stinging hands and
yet, the
mornings we woke
together, the
mornings we opened our eyes to the light
together, the
weather was warm
and bright
cold, the
chill was settling in your
hair, there
were regular
rainstorms, everywhere
was
wet, the
streetlights that had streamed with hot regret were fogged into a
freeze, the
breezes were slap-sharp harpies with stinging hands and
yet, the
mornings we woke
together, the
mornings we opened our eyes to the light
together, the
weather was warm
and bright
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