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| Joel-Peter Witkin, "Vienna Eye Phantom, 1990" © |
decide-ly anti climactic at times unfurling willow branching
I hear Her soft cries laced paper dolls twined to trees set deep in the woods
where only the elementals will find them sprites and other bright fae play
with regards for humanity and its ability to or not to understand its place
given the precepts perceptual implicit(s)
are we insisting we commence with dissolving
bullshit like ownership of things
like the air and the rain and the oceans and the land
and the molten metals and other precious ores waiting to be
no we can't just lance the pussy
carbuncle Rumpelstiltskin
we must parlay the miller and his daughters for water
and the very thought of gold that holds our souls
captive to animalia
wild is free and we often see this when imprisoned
by a society of laws or our own obstinence
and ordinal numeration
of what is sacred to thee
hear my cries
I am off to find
those children
of Antigone
and Prometheus
made with the slip silver lightning
of when midnight
steals in
and becomes the conduit
light needs to bleed
dark fertile menses
to the mention-able
seed magic
we pocket
in myth
and fairy-tales
childhoods
to neighborhoods
in the wilderness
we choose as adults
to roam as free souls in ...
EJR ©
in a paper doll world
ReplyDeletewe are all fragile
torn from constant
wear...
paper dolls living in a cut out world
Beware, when the gusty wind blows
Down they go from their cardboard pose
too weak to stand on their own
bone theater trees
Deletebirdhouses favorite shirtsleeves
we stood at the lake's edge at night
skipping stones pretending to count
the skips as we looked leaps and bounds
to gather moments as blessings ...
skipping stones, one by one
Deletepebbles dancing on the surface
sending ripples of new energy
across the lake of shamanic dreams
clutching my breast to feel the beat
of the little bird, who longs to sing
embraced in the light of moonbeams
pursed clutch handbill, we sought lemonade
Deleteand shade when Summer high Sun made
us thirsty and light headed
the same tree we carved letters in as kids
remembered us, even forgave us for what we did
and even said whosoever pulls pushes
button and lever never not used once
as we grew into adults
despite not wanting to
memory crafts a tear from sweat and hands
itself to the rain again in the unseen steam
rising from the afternoon on high
asphalt wavers curtain savors
the broad leaves of the maples and oaks
say rest a bitten by falling
into everything we carry
inside our rabbit holes
Under loving arms we took rest
ReplyDeletelearning, the ins and outs of love
creating our poetry, counting syllables
between breath of words, inhaling the
summer scents two wildflowers entangled
in the humidity of the afternoon, praying
for rain, to cleanse our earthly bed...
we drift into slumber to the ticking
hands of time...forever changed under
a tangerine sky where dragons fly..
wares kite tangled dragged through pollen
Deletethe flights home were all booked so we drove
and boy was it a hot day asphalt in rise buckle
and paced near panting breath I thought you said
you had AC I said you gave me a look said
we're pulling over there's queen anne's lace hand bouquet
embroidery wheel you say let's get in
a deep core red lined within a sea of fading white ...
those deli dogs seemed a good idea awhile ago
but now I am fighting my tummy
lost my pennies playing you in license plate rummy
so I couldn't dummy up for sympathy
though you did have some ginger ale to share
I swear we've been here before
stored words were wary they preferred
to see the lights in trees be babies
and small animals we saved from traffic
when passing them stuck into our minds
the eternals, tongues and poems
homes, hones and hand lanterns blind
we find reason treasonous and laugh into a compass
of our cupped palms
with the road still waiting to be driven with
our wonder and awe
stories like billboards up ahead
before books become dangerous again
when most forget how to read
in the rain without losing
that feeling of being born ...
hot air balloons floating before us
Deletedriving up into that Adirondack high
billboards fading in tree lined hills
I said can you smell the mountain air
its fresh and clears my head of residue
I know a little wine shop serving Merlot
and light Chablis it tastes so sweet upon
my lips, and that maple sugar melts worries
away, as words drip from my tongue, peeling
layers of the great white birch to write
our words in ancient form, ancestors watch
from the shadows catching glimpses of faraway
dreams...holding a million stars in our hands
tell me do you see what I see beyond the
traffic of life...
they're tombstones
Deletethe stars are I say
we catch the afterglow
what happened long ago
which is why we like ghosts who cry
and laugh, warm chocolate mixed in
with the mulling spices cider and wine
what a fine time to dine upon sine waves you say
waves I repeat, yes you see it is all in the journey
dead lights and all as You watch me fall a bit peeing
down to the culvert at the side of the road
do the pines speak to you I ask, you say nothing
but as I turn around to button and zip you pip me
with cones and laughter and wise words like watch the sap
it's a bit sticky though in a good way, and that is
just some of what the pines say to me ...