Within the woods

thYou lost your grip on reality around the same time

my own dalliance with death disturbed the rafters

my shoulders of a man, yours of a sparrow

we danced around amber whiskey bottles

setting fire to tarmac

lifting our skirts before silver ash enveloped us

but maybe I didn’t clean my feet well enough

you began to tremble in the morning

and I found I could not move

it was as if a deer had been startled

standing quite still in dried grass

he was frozen in situ

for a time I wanted to break out

resume merriment and three penny carnival

until the feeling of falling inside

behind the bones of your face

where all emotion blanches and traces

secrets and lies

became my norm

I did not know anymore

how to stir cocktails of polite acquaintance

or make small talk trace like sleepy snails

I did not know anymore

what became of my social graces

pinned and folded beneath me like taffeta

it gave me comfort to

lose my art of conversation

the yawning maw of fraternization

I listened to words and they did not

beckon me come closer

I felt as strange as the outdoor moth

who half wishes he did not

slap against warm glass trying to

eat the light

for it is not you he seeks

but the burn and blitz of some fantastic

singeing his wings in tattoo

and I too

had always yearned for that feeling

never discovered among the feeding troughs

of social intercourse

and once or twice I left

a full and heaving party

to lift my legs for a stranger in

cramped confine

because the hard bang and knock of his

emptying wood was

more honest than all the winks and nods

whispering behind my back

words

I no longer needed to use

only three ever necessary

I love you

though now you are smudged out

by burn of cinders staining toes

gone as cold as foggy morning

selecting mute I retraced my arc

pushed myself back beneath my bones

within the temple

within the woods

where the deer finally moved

from her camouflage and

sprinted light as powder

into converging dark

Clasp

freja-beha-erichsen-tomek-szczukiecki-for-interview-magazine-designscenenet-03I miss intimacy

not the kind that comes with notches

but holding back her hair

spooning her smiles

into my lap

she claims my whole in little hands

where I see the flush of cheekbone

eclipsing against wool

if leaves fall outside we do not

clear them from dry grass

fervently my kisses

linger beyond chiming hour

expectation demanding we

still our rapture for mundane

wash dishes

scour chores

instead lying in each others arms

our low fire keeping at bay

worldly cares

nothing but this exists

surrounded by shadows we

persist in our linkage

pulling faces at the chill

edging our clasp for one another

as two children lost in forest may

share timbered warmth

I miss her plum mouth

the way she reserves the longest

embrace for passover darkness

how her body surges like

a water wheel against my slow pull

as if I am garnering from our union

the best of us both

encased in fire, disputing chill

without her I am just a person

tredding tightrope

touching concrete and fabrication

like a carpenter, void of wood

should raise his empty hands

beseeching listening deity

for the weight of

his craft

she became the life preserve

and I the blinking shell of light

guiding her to familiar shore

without each other

we are simply icebergs

seeking dissolution

in barren stretch of ocean

On the other side of rebuke

freja-beha-erichsen-arizona-muse-by-terry-richardson-designscenenet-02I used to say

O talk to me

open your maraschino mouth

pull the glazed words out

until they come undone

now I say

keep quiet

stay absent

I have found what I didn’t yet know

standing on the other side of rebuke

we forsake our blazing joy

under the suffocation of those

who demand all of us

and none of us

I spent a life time waiting

to stop hating myself

when the girl with the sparrow in her limbs

took me by the hand and bid me dance with her

entreat I may rinse my history in her cupped smile

held under chin like buttercup tells fortune to

gilded child, with her smoothness and her beguile

latching emptiness and filling it with stars

bursting over us like white flames caution the acrobat

to walk steadier in the marsh of emotion

I didn’t think I could start over, my chapter was

dulled by the passage of hands holding me back

she knew I could

when I lost my footsteps on the other side of rebuke

she picked me up, held me still until my heartbeat

slowed and the music filled me anew

Soft mouth

zsvalI wasn’t ready

maybe that’s what attracted me to you

treasured and worthless

your invert chest

the ribs of a child

pluck a chord

sing a tune

I own

nothing but one

moment

watching you swim naked

the search of sound

pines still holding their grudge

your eyes emptied

your lips broken against wait

against my still entreaty

I trust nothing

only the jig of life

in your gamine limbs

spelling out the position of

dropped clothes like constellations

curtseys before the heavy curtain

comes down on our budding ardor

I feel old

against your new

shine

I feel young

against your ancient

eyes

I trust no-one except

the first sound

flickering over your face

as I dive

through

as sleek as a silver fern

shedding its urge

making magic of forest floor

all the glittering wonderment

in your soft mouth

 

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

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

Mirage

487516_925887807519322_6991693440780088237_n

If you could purchase

a weight for

my heart

it would

bankrupt

the world

for heavier

than lead

and any ore

it remains

broken in

places too

deep for

light

too

shallow

to retain

sufficient

water

we will

die thirsting

as the

mirage of

longing shows

its humor

over horizon

 

By the frequency

canstock1995090You can discover when you are hurting

by the frequency of things causing anger

to rage like a hot tea-pot

given no respite

you can know when you are in pain

by the diminishment of senses

stillness in one place

as hours tick over head

submerging you in silent trespass

in a life that feels suddenly

void and laid bare

you can ask of yourself one last time

to stand up and listen to the barking dog outside

howl his discontent in a way you may never dare

the buzzing in your head a tickle

mindful it’s not over yet

there is a life waiting, maybe not

as full as some would have it

for there are those who go alone

and those who need a hot air balloon

we are all capable of flight

even if long hidden are our smiles

time

that trespasser of calm

wills us on

until at last there is only

diminishment

and we can say

we lived a life honestly

we did not let pain

wear us into flat stones

to be skimmed merely on surface

we submerged ourselves

like hot children

running for the relief of water

hear them now

they are so eager