the red sun
hovers close
asking why
as if answers
could be crows
crossing distance
in shorn-shortest
feather breeze
paths
when in fact
it’s the meadow
breathing wisdom:
bloom
in the midst
of flamboyant
underused chaos
bloom
like a rose
in a sky
filled with fish
bloom
and surrender
to the hot holy blood
filling each eye
bloom
and forget
to reply
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
watch time float by
on the whisper of living
breathe in blue sky
and never exhale
light the candle
of forgiveness
and forget to blow it out
speak the song
of the silenced
or rather, start to sing
watch a heron
kiss the water
in a solitude of sunshine
stand taller
than the mountain
you just climbed
ride the train of broken tears
that barrels down
each side
embrace the clouds
that hover close
to the places you last cried
.
give it all away
.
and watch time
float by
on the whisper
of living
…
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
. . .
it’s dawn
and the mockingbird
is spinning
suddenly i want
to fly again
straight off the ends
of this square peg earth
into the winding path
of freedom’s glee
burrow deep into the heart
of day-blind skunk
and know the strength
that builds red bricks
from beasts of prey
ripple down
across the shoulder
of this rolled-boulder current
pounded smooth against
a blanket of doused flame
no longer
broken
but
broken open
open
and mirrored
plain
yet again
i climbed a mountain to return a heart-shaped rock,
walked a forest and forgave the past of everything,
broke a leg and knitted living back together,
skirted vulture cliffs and jumped only with my smile,
buried crack-lipped hallelujahs beneath the twisted tree of pain
it’s morning
and the mockingbird
is singing
. . . . .
in that hole in my heart
(you know the one)
left behind in the wake
of a wave
core scoured clean
scored by sand
and detritus
scars scratched
into every blind surface
echo etchings
scratched
into permanent
reminder
water always runs
to the lost lowest point
filling crack and crevice
with surface reflection
magnifying truth
and creating mirage
in the desert
of dutiful
destruction
the way it all shifts
when you learn
to walk through
rather than running
astray
the way trust
is a shell
balanced on backs
until we outgrow
the idea
the way a heart
always knows
its measure of weight
and its own
constellation of scars
the way hope
is not hollow
and just holding on
is more fragile
than strength to let go
.
.
i’ve got all these pieces
shard sharp and jagged edged
heart blood dark
and silence hole
splayed across
this worn wood floor
tracing steps and trapped pretension
as it all rolls uphill
sideways
mirror mirror
pasted smile
fallen glimpses in the corner of reflection
shape shifting
loose oil carnage
and the dream I had
before
our room filled with smoke
my mind-body
shaking us both awake
certain there was fire
i still see the haze each midnight
floating right
above the quilt
i bought
to shelter the you
(or me)
i can never quite
remember
.
