Resting in the cool of dusk

Resting in the cool of dusk 

under the porch 

in the swing by the pool --

nothing quiet,

everything a riot of crick

and creak and whine.

Who knew such tiny things

could moan and click

so loud? The lowing cow,

the cawing crow,

that hootie hoo hoo 

in the woods 

over and over 

until dusk itself 

hovers then grows wings,

whose soft brush in flight

fills with hush 

the night.

Third Eye Blind

Third Eye Blind 

Supposedly, there's an eye

in the middle of the forehead --

third eye, chakra, blind.

I wish I could open that one

and the ones in the back of my head,

feel my way, steel myself

instead of fighting currents.

I would flow on streams of knowing

gliding forward, kicking back.

It has been a long time since I have written, and it feels like I have been just carried along blindly, letting things just happen. It's almost as if I've abdicated. Writing this helped me see that I have to find my flow...and kick back.

cleaning adolph's tub

This poem is inspired by the photo at The Mag, Tess Kincaid's weekly poetry prompt.

cleaning adolph's tub

what can wash 

                      the grit

from this man's tub

bits of bone float 

                          porous

but abrasive rub

drains fill 

             with ash 

and teeth

even the pipes 

                         shriek

Some things I've learned about leaving

Some things I've learned about leaving

If it's by choice

There is no mercy.

They'll split your chest

And cut apart your heart,

Pull out and read your guts;

Everything they look for is corruption.

A kinder method is

From sudden going.

The factory's moving to another town,

Your section's shutting down.

As long as you don't want to,

They will miss you

While they clear your things away.

Any leaving's better 

than the absence of leaving

Where you are sitting there,

Your motions only gestures

Breathing air.

Every wish they have 

Comes down to mercy:

Please just let you go.

They'd put a pillow to your face 

If they could do it 

And celebrate your passing

With a cheer.

My Mother's Smile

My Mother's Smile

I don't know how, my mother says

When told to smile for the camera.

The truth is, she doesn't like the way 

She looks, so in pictures, she mostly stares.

Somewhere, un gros chien noir

Walks across my grave.

Ghost of a smile, that shadow on her face.

Truth is, she is no laugher. Never was.

Moment

Fractured light

swans along the hills,

Leaps and ebbs

like feathered fire.

Knee deep in wooded awe, 

we peer into the lapis haze above.

Divine artist, roaring 

down the corridors of time

burning cold as serpent's scales,

Your hands, your brush, they crackle.

Touch you, and we burn;

Look on you, we stay.

You charm us with your song,

Asking nothing for our passage 

but our love.

Birthday

BIRTHDAY 

Under the moon of the fairy night

When the days are short 

And the stars are bright,

On a puff of air and a sea of red

They rend the veil

From the Land of Dead.

Before, behind, betwixt, between,

In the nether world,

They bloom unseen --

A ghost, a thought, a root, a stem,

A silent bud,

An unsung hymn.

Shake off the veil and beat the drums!

Let cymbals play, 

For angels come!

Sing Thanks

Sing Thanks

Little creature on the tree,

Are you thinking thanks like me?

Sow and reap, cook and stow,

Washing dishes as I go,

Wondering when I see,

Feathered wonder on the tree,

If you remember, if you know 

Gratitude from long ago

For the good gifts God does bring?

Lift your throat and with me sing.

The Long Way

THE LONG WAY

Today, the road is muddy,

Rutted.

I recall it smooth, 

But was it?

Always there were stones.

I bear them in my flesh. 

See the blue 

Under ropey skin?

That's hope I carry with me.

Who says you can't go home?

Photo prompt @magpietales.blogspot.com

Thanks, Tess!

After

After

When words have gone

And brushes dried up in their jars,

I play the cards.

Solitaire,

Where nothing matters,

Nothing is at stake.

When the cards are bad,

Just shuffle.