7.30.2012

sometimes

sometimes the sobs that roll from this chest don't
originate in pain or grief, but rather express the
waves of relief washing over me drowning me
in sweet abandonment, oceans of peace;
and i choose to let go and float along


sometimes just turning up the stereo and letting
myself drown, lost in the mesmerizing beats and
hypnotizing rhythm is all i need to get me over the
mountain that has blacked out my horizon. here i
find the sunrise, the hope, the tomorrow i've been
promised. these notes my buoyancy, my stead.

7.29.2012

Watercolors spilled out,
washing the pale canvas
with unanticipated hues.
Bristles lazily strayed through
streams of ermine, citron topaz
and a splash of cobalt:
a rainbow
lost on this horizontal plain.

7.26.2012



from the rough hematite rich sediments of this earth
you drew forth ironstone mineral dense and ready
to give at the smelting, but you saved it, savored it,
hung it from the very beams that would surround you.
this jersey ironstone home still testifies of your
homespun affection for it's silicate opulent composite.

(Batsto Village New Jersey)

7.25.2012

ebony beans spilled into the grinder
offered up a thick dark aroma
as the gears spun
bringing Ethiopia's natural abundance
one step closer to my prescripted dose
of the oil topped elixir so necessary to
socially acceptable A.M. interactions

7.24.2012

7.23.2012

The night is still as bright cricket chirps sing over the steady hum of the cicadas and the reverberating bullfrog's moan. Fireflies fade deeper into the thick woods leaving haloed shadows of themselves amid the tall grass from  which they've escaped.  The night is still.

7.18.2012

Musca domestica

Musca domestica, you confidently surveyed
the kitchen scene. Brazenly circling my cranium. 
Hadn't you even considered your own days, limited
though they may be. Why not spread your thorax, 
your wings, your arista in the wide open world beyond
these quarters? Why taunt me and fate, and the whip
of the tea towel spinning now hurtling with unhesitating
force; it brought you down. Compound eyes compounded.
You lost your flight, tibia, femur, tarsus crushed!

7.17.2012

Tibetan prayer flags swung wildly as
her mud stained Lincoln bounced in and out of
pot holes, escaping its lane from time to time.
Peace symbols and coexist stickers clung
to the dented bumper and her head bobbed
along in perfect peace, unaware of the chaos
she brought between the dotted lines of our lives.

7.16.2012

footprints

footprints leave behind so much
evidence, such undeniable proof

solo impressions for so long. your world as
simple and carefree as the path you chose.

paired in time with stronger, broader, steadier
steps, not a hindrance, but a helper for life.

the delicate trace of smaller feet join now, part yours
part his. promises kept, dreams come true.

7.15.2012

gathering souls

She captured the souls of
snakes and squirrels and
slugs she said, their soul is
in their eyes. It was her daily
morning worship; gathering the
souls of small critters who had
ventured into her backyard
sanctuary. She collected their
sacrifices with a sole finger,
aperture after clicking aperture.

7.14.2012

Bastille Day

I traveled the world and found you
standing on a bridge crossing international
waters, your foreign language so liquid, like
waves passionately cast against stone pillars
we knew each other briefly, intensely, saturated
I returned home yet your flavor never left my
mouth.

7.12.2012

poetry

Shades of umber and sand shifting
seamlessly up the trunk of Crepe Myrtle.
Witty lyrics that catch in my ear,
and then my heart.
These are more than just words.
This is poetry.

7.03.2012

We'll miss you Andy, in Mayberry and all our favorite Carolina haunts
We know you lived quite a few days, but we're still sad you rushed away

We loved all the new places you took us, and the places we'd been
a hundred times before. You made us feel at home, just like lemonade.

So go ahead and rest your bones, we'll find shade and skippin' stones,

We'll take down our fishin' poles and whistle to The Fishin' Hole,
I can't think of a better way to pass the time o' day.

In honor of Andy Griffith, inspired by the Andy Griffith Show Theme Song

7.01.2012

buttery rays of morning's sunlight playfully
brush sheer drapes across the light washed
window panes and tease corners of the bed
sheets, sunk into cool cotton i am unmoved