Passion

Passion


That whiteness --

There!

Slinking low to ground,
Trapped in a maze of

Things

What are you,
Running through my night

Vestige of a dream,
Divinity of fear --

Trip the light,
Pale shadow of my soul.

Find the gate and disappear.

Lady

Lady, last seen in the silent roar
of the vast good-bye --
indigo adaptation of night,
stealing the sun
to roar like a daisy
across the zig-zag sky --
Phaeton gone awry,
burning, stout-stemmed sapling,
thorn in the story of grasses:
sketch your tawdry meadow.
Twist your tawny, ivied arms;
shun the cloistered shadows.
Burn the skies with your strong fire.
Leave me blind and reeling.
Leave me smelling sulphur in the night.








Sometimes, even I don't know where they come from! (And, yes, I know I ended that sentence with a preposition and began this one with "and.")

I saw the Pre-Raphaelites at the National Gallery of Art in Washington, DC, this week; Imaginary Gardens with Real Toads suggested some of these botanical words and phrases, and Poets United asked that we write about "woman" for International Women's Day. It all came together as this! Voila! Who knows?

Sing the Bones

Sing the Bones



I am losing all my bones,
Loosing self and stance,

Heaping like kindling,
Losing all my bones.

Put me to the fire,
Sing me bone by bone:

Croon incus, phalanx,
Pelvis, rib and stapes.

Hum humerus, hum lacrimal
Chant deepest femur note.

open letter to you who inherit the earth

Forgive me
though I know
what I do.
Forgive me
my footprint,
my trespass.
Birds of the air,
field of stunted grain,
forgive me
my time here.
Forgive me
the mask you wear,
the stream, the air.
Forgive me
the memory of trees.
Oh, my children,
find a way
to forgive me
your dead
each day.