Harpsichord of light

eeeee“Night after night they hang banded together, keeping silent.” – David Vogel, Jewish poet.

Looking back for all the chaff of regret

lingers a piece of you not yet hung

where all else stretches too thin for holding

as our burden is heavier than our sum

calculated on thin harpsichord of light

breaking like fleet dancers o’er head

where else will the hedgerow thrush know

her song or sleeping mouse burrow in dawn

your grey eyes like undiscovered wolves

your lips finding my own uncovered

pressing the smells of morning like riddles

against empty palms

making acrobats of ardor

still the quench

let us linger

one more purposed motion

testing time for

all who ink their name

shall fade to naught

walking from scorch

by virtue of nothing

save the fullness of their souls

caught in momentary

reflection

Winter glass

24469743_c58d88ae1e_m(l.)

Winter glass

is yellowed with old sun

mottled by bird claws

resembling stained relief

a mustard bath

enclosing grief

fields are reaped clear

left to darken

shaken fallow

like wands of sadness

where once they were bright

alive with mice and voles

claiming their hidden kingdom

ears of corn straining upward

unfolding as sun shines

we forget to wipe windows clear

when clouds descend and rivers

freeze

closing off air

closing off movement

we retire in our woolen worlds

tucking our chins against brutal cold

like robins closing their red breasts

and the light that gets in

is tainted

like long left cigarette

stains thumb and forefinger

betraying a little of the smokers emotion

as she holds it

sparking in darkness

inhaling her grief

like swallowing words

goes unseen

beneath the ice of defeat

(ll.)

we who clamor without tongues

who fill our mouths with knowledge

no one is there to listen

we who close our doors at night

to the sound of hibernation

keeping out those who would

tear us from rigid postures

make scarecrows in blizzards

of our rags and scoured bones

for who knows?

how another feels behind walls

or how it feels to be touched by

dirty light letting in the reminder

we are but fields of yellow

turning brown and beginning once more

each time a little less steady

in our long walk

la graine

laise

This brittle heart

has loved only once

she gives the impression

she is eternally shut

though within her lies

a seed of hope as dormant as

the buds beneath winter earth

but whom

shall bring forth rain and sun

permitting her entry once again

to consider the marvel of a world

where love is not common

nor easily found

where cutting oneself off and hiding

beneath heavily padded doors

is one way the sensitive heart survived

so long

yet we are sand running in opposite direction

a flame not to last eternity

for surely the beat of our hearts

reminds us

there are reasons for longing

watching another moment pass by

thinking

what if

out there

in unknown, there is a person

wishing just as I

for the other half

would it be

we could discover

each other

and close

the emptiness

within us

even for the short

space of a

life time

Pull down the night

ffffComing sudden

over hill

scraped light

makes one last trill

before diminishing

beneath black rock

born from ire in

molten wrath

who so ever

dares stand up

to speak truth

will taste their lash

they who fear

forever burdened with ash

it is their weft to

make pillage of attempt

they would pull down the night

forever if it were a fabric

and not the entirety of the world

disguising sight

 

Mandala

girl-in-nestIt was her habit

to keep secrets

never betray a confidence

and

find it hard to trust

those who were over friendly

with compliments and kind words

often the first to loosen arrow

better then to step back

stifle trust sufficiently

take time to know the measure

best found

when things are not golden

but a helping hand is needed

to pull the drowning man from his wet

fall

then we can be sure

they’ll not let go so easily

the bearers of trust

turning softly against

intention like a water

wheel will clothe itself

in the voices of the well

and rise up

shaking itself off

to the turn of life again

breaking spells

of divination and miracle

all ephemeral against

the reliability of turning

in circles creating ever

increasing circles

cast like spring flowers

against the frost

Uncommon

c51e6bc5e98678539d061ac9c04667afNot afraid of the usual fears

obscurity

ageing

indifference of lovers

I bought a pair of scissors

snipped out the dead bits

threw away the glamor andĀ beguilement

seeing through gossamer trappings

yet I am still fearful

of uncommon things

dissolution and repetitive days

adding up to waste

working in a cubicle

coming home to warmed up left-overs

hanging washing on weekends

mowing lawns iced with Ready Grow

chores belaboring chores

like sore throated choir singers

duck behind pulpit for a shot of whiskey

I do not fear wrinkles earned

or sagging parts hidden beneath thick coats

those were with me before they were

lines on my days as I sat

20 years crossed legged

eating chocolate from vending machines

watching others my age hurl themselves

from one moment to the next

like waves that meet and

turn ever wilder

I preferred to roll my own

invite the boy who couldn’t form

complete sentences

but wrote

pretentious appealing poetry

with tight muscled drummers arms

back to my whistling dorm

to break the wood we were born upon

and his idea

he was in control

back then

carrying in my linen womb

the next twenty years

I developed an inkling for scars

battle worn and tired before

my knitting bones caught up

now you can’t scare me with your rebuke

I’ve lived beyond the yoke and tenderness of youth

but put me in an office, tighten my straps

affix the gag reflex

and watch me come undone

like a latch that appears well adhered

will spring suddenly

contents spill out aborted

across washed floor

Serendipity

jesusblgirlOne night

so long ago the date is erased

I sat in an unfamiliar room in grainy dark

closed my eyes

thinking of you

who had forsaken me

I asked the void

if you are there

reach out now

my cell phone glowed

one message received

we met

in dead of night

a strange cold

you had changed your hair

I was all dried up from tears

like Scandinavian fish

staring out of pickling jars

show in desiccated eyes

the measure of hurt

you put your head in my lap

and somehow

even though it should never have happened

we fused back together

like glass evolves over years

in mire of elements so easily broken

if not for chance

I am glass of a volcano

I always knew you would rupture

spewing me as lava

discard your carefully stacked fire

was it worth how I feel now?

screaming into silent night?

watching for you to hear?

when maybe you never did?

it was merely coincidence

we thought serendipity