the owls whispered something
in the night
the other night
in the woods where wind was dancing
the arms were reaching
and fingers trembling
between the trunks
and shadows lurking
the owls whispered something sweet
in the fire light
the other night
when neighbors were passing
down the street and vanished
out of sight
after the sirens had sung their song
and twirling lights had come and gone
the owls whispered their sweet ignorance
they already knew
before questioning who
it's just a moment
when all has dimmed
a flicker of sun flitters
through the trees
catching your light flesh
in the darkening world
I'd let you hitchhike
for now if you ask
the night is lonely
without the moon and stars
and this road, well
it just doesn't see many cars
and I'd give you all
the past again if you ask
the breeze still whispers
what we had missed
it's just a moment
when the final rays
settle on your eyes
blinding me to you
daring to step in the dark
so far away and out of view
I'd let you hitchhike
giving you my feet for your shoes
and my heart for your drum
letting you thump around
in a life we once had
it starts with a tickle
on the back of your neck
the movement of those tiny hairs
in the slightest breeze
that arouses the senses
the stimulation just the same
to make you plant your toes
where you stand
when all the chaos swirls
around you
news of the churning plastic ocean tides
or pandemic fears
or children's tears
in the face of starvation
or simply broken appliances,
flat tires, and speeding tickets
whatever the whirl the wind
will turn and shake you with
your toes have been planted
and those roots grow deep
and deeper yet with each
and every windy day
he sits eating tree oysters
remembering the time
his mother would fill
a small glass vendor
with a black cast iron leg
and red jacket and cap
from his first memories
she would always choose
the same hard tan beaks
with their jade green innards
to top off the glass tank
not very appealing to
his delinquent mind and wants
he much rather had had
chocolate covered in vibrant
thin candy shells or the
same vibrancy in gumballs
but alas the mechanical thing
was diminished in his mind
due to these things he snacks on
these things that fill his break
with their tiny snaps of their jaws
revealing the gems within
though empty with some
leaving him feeling cheated
but still pleased with pistachios
I watched the marble
as it slowly rolled along
all the lines of your heart
the whiskey kissed words
that dribbled from your lips
might have been my
preferred poison
but you set me adrift
in a sea
inside your glass
and I had no idea
how to tread
there was such sweet release
in giving into those words
in breathing in that liquid
in sinking to the bottom
of your chasm
the dark pit of you
I would gladly
douse with kerosene
and strike a match
the orchard was fully fruited
but once picked
the peaches quickly rotted
the rot we drink
and are drunk on
and it keeps our eyes shut
doors to the heart and
windows to the soul
blanketed in ice cold
a bitter kiss of lovers
lost or family feuds or
strangers traveling through
the beds we seek comfort
in sleep or sex
or naps lapping our lives
licking away the days
left on these shores
waiting to be eaten by the sea
the chlorine aroma mingled
with heavy coconut tropical scents
of tanning oils and sunblock
and further was a wave of fruity taffies,
sugary powders and chocolate bars
even the wet hot pavement emitted
its own odor into the whole mix
the whole mix that only existed
in this sun bleached biosphere
of the summer public pool
where it seemed to erase boundaries
that once kept certain children
away from other certain children
whether it be age, class, or other
none of that seemed to matter
in the cool, chemically treated waves
lifeguards and swim team coaches
headed up this family of the wet
and the major goal throughout all
the generations that had swam
throughout the many summers
is to graduate from the kiddie "puddle"
to the, gulp, taller than a giraffe high dive
and everyone mourned when new regulations
were the death of that fearful feat
for the mysterious depths of the deep end
were mysteriously no longer deep enough
who knew a concrete bowl filled in
with what everyone is teeming with already
would wash away the masks we otherwise would wear
such a strange Spring
the tulips hold blood on their lips
while robins and larks cry murder
in the evenings the cold folds it hands
to pray throughout the night
the trees open their arms
to litter the streets with pleas
petitions to the far off sun
to burn away this old and
so very renewed injustice
the bare twigs are whipped by the winds
in hope that it will awaken
the sleeping mass with their feet in the ground
their pale oblivion keeps them numb
still so very chilled
still so very untouched
still so very disconnected from the sun
ready to burn it all away
but the winter white will melt
and the rains will wash
away those ashes
