i went to bed for week
and the world changed colors
yes, of course, i know its autumn
only it isn’t, quite
and all i’m really trying to say
is we forget again and again and again
to notice the magic all around us
blooming right beneath our hurried feet
as we focus on the fresh vines of ugliness
winding their way up twisted ankles
when what we need is to pay our heart’s attention
to the desperate grand finality of fall
…
there are no rules
for endings and beginnings
just food for thought
or wasted flavor
and it’s the light
begging shadow for definition
that makes you hungry
for the agony of full
…
may i never be too old
to sit upon the ground
before a tall and hungry fire
built from gold
trees my only witness
sky my only hold
and the river running miles
through the crackled mud between us
singing hard and true and cold
. . .
i am the leaves
that skitter on pavement
touching toe and ankle
bare and boot
and you don’t listen
to the crackle of my skin
or bear witness
to the whisper
of my decay
i feed you anyway
i am the crow
robbing blue eggs
black circling sound
from the ring
on the right-hand finger
of fortune
and you
cannot reach
the beak that bites you
i feed you anyway
i am the seeds
buried ripe beneath rows
cold arrows of root
reaching deep
through tall darkness
as you nibble buds
in the light drowning rain
of hypocrisy’s
overdrawn bloom
i feed you anyway
…
i’ve burned through all the memories
walked through fire
sifted ash
blackened fingers drawing hieroglyphs
to guide me through the grief that buries living
i light candles at dawn and bonfires at dusk
build a fortress of flame
and sleep on embers
i’ve been phoenix so many times
my house is strewn with feathers
(ankle-deep and sharp as quills)
i’ve put you out and opened windows
always feeding the desire to breathe
(which i think is the same as freedom)
i remember the night i woke in terror at the blanket of smoke swirling over my bed
i remember the way i laughed later, when it turned out to be a dream
i remember the way it still feels entirely exactly undeniably
real
truth always finds a way to be revealed
and here we are
again
endings and beginnings
blooming full
in the light of forgotten
darkness is the edge
our eye is drawn to
bleakblank horizon
lined with trees
and trepidation
the air filled
with hope’s perfume
as if anyone could hold
the scent
of silence
on a morning
carved by will
and blind resilience
into something
resembling peace
or patterned joy
dancing shadows
on the wall
of blanket rhyme
and repetition
. . .
the avenue where
you ate the last fish
as it held your lost stare
(contemplation’s false glare)
and the dark apple
current
pulling luck under
in the back row seat
of certainty’s corner
we fed our fill
on the silence of empty
and burnished long scars
still shiny with memory
until sky led to sea
in the bed that was always
losing its way
we reached for warm hands
over-stuffed
with the blind weight
of grief
grasping for sand
as it spilled down
clean sheets
and returned to the water
salt bled us
…
eating nothing
but these hours
that devour
and the
black hole distance
between full
and fortified
in the night sky
lost eye
feast
of raw
subsistence
…
scarred scared and disrepaired
the tagline of last soldiers
loss holders
heart boulders
we are the collection
of collectors
gathering bones and
burying stones
building cairns
in bare memory
corners
and backing away
ever so gently
despite the premise promise
of tumble
and tremor
. . .
and deep dark
late night lists
of the ways we are all
just a little bit
broken
and the revelation
that all we can do
is open our arms
our minds
our fear closed
scared scarred
sacred
hearts
and face the sun
one more time
one more day
one more moment
today
today
today
and love
that’s
all there is
ever
not forever
just this
minefield mountain
of now
the present
of presence
and these shard blue
sheltering smithereens
of moving sky
…
