Monday, March 22, 2021
Phantom pains
Monday, March 15, 2021
Sniff
the struck match
fire eating newspaper
wood of pine or cedar crackling
its essence through heat and steam
opening the door to home
after a week long trip
pulling sheets from the wind swung clothesline
stretching the outside air across the mattress
as sun heated linen unfurls sun into the bedroom
pouring water over man's best friend
as their oils try to ward off the shampoo sheen
first of daffodil cups to pour out its ambrosia
spring rains soak old wood and leaves
the fresh wet earth
as mowers lay down the lawn
head laying against lover's chest
as hair, soap, clothes and eau de toilette slowly dance before their eyes
fallen apples fermenting in the October sun
the closet that houses grandpa's tobacco drenched overalls
and granny's coat whose pockets held wintergreen gum
the kitchen after the sink drains from washed dishes
and the floor has been mopped with bleach water
and the oven has given up its hot rolls or ham or chocolate cake
the cold and promise of snow in the air
a glass of sun drenched ice quenched tea
the house when it is lived in
the house when it is not
Thursday, March 11, 2021
Hun
his is the same caress
on glowing white velvety datura cups
the chalices to toast Selene
held high in midnight glory
his is the breath flowing from
the shadows within the dark
to the neck
across the cheek
the emptying of heat
the vacancy of comfort
surrendered to silence
enveloped in clouds of the mind
that soak the heart in fright
in night
in deafening stillness
when even crickets halt their violin legs
his are the unspoken words
in suspended thought
that call all attention to primeval utmost
to what seizes flight
and gives into his unheeded tongue
Wednesday, March 10, 2021
Hulena
she sings deep within the soil
beyond the muck of passing leaves
and sludge of befallen flora crowns
deep within the soil she sings
her unrelenting melody of change
its movement courses through
the veins of the sky in early hours
breaking the gray stuffed ceiling
into countless crystalline droplets
deep within the soil her feet flicker
they are wicked flames in darkness
that reach beyond infinite walls
burning within heart, sap, and bark
her feet flicker deep within the soil
her green hands rise to heaven
praying to gods known before the stars
came to rest their dust upon the Earth
as promises are kept in prayers spoke
those cold elders of northern shadows
bitterly scream and dare to crush
her green hands rising to heaven
Monday, March 8, 2021
In stone
we left the paths of stone
washed clean with the blood of our feet
through fading fog
the sun reached out to hold our hands
but water's shadow held its warmth at bay
holding back the gilded day
still stands the fingers of the earth
promises of those ages gone
that for their loss they did long
to covet stone in its steadfast
carving names into it
the names still scarring their hearts
those cold stones still buried in their chests
yet now we left those paths of stone
where time has deceived by
wearing away and fading the memories
of names carved in steadfast
of mourning rains drinking stone