at the root of existence
we choose to grow and then
wither
bend and bow
curve and carry
reach and
reminisce
.
at night the bloom closes
protecting center from darkness
and fragile from star
.
days run together
with the laughter of sympathy
.
what we’ve learned
earned
burned
is eternally
shed
.
.
.
.
carried high above the sea of sky
(to keep from drowning, of course)
brittle fragile biting hiding
beauty
in a storm of hollow
promise
.
.
.
in a world of too much and
never enough
and tiny lives
bleeding hearts
doors that open
before they close
window views and
widow’s walks
and the quiet violence
of bloom
.
.
.
there are always hurdles
hurts and
mountains
sharp edges
jagged rock
there is always sky
to fall into
caves to cower in
roads that lead
in the opposite direction
but
only one route
is yours
to follow
.
.
.
and you are the miracle
every day
each breath
crystallized
into sky
and
molten
remembrance
.
.
.
rising high from a red bed of thorns
on a morning dressed in grey before dawn
and this is all there is
i stand to one side
worn and torn and still exuberant
breathing in the chill of tomorrow
as today twines up bare ankles
remembering to live
.
.
.
as i swim through center
muddy toes, bony fingers, brittle bones
i will not drown and the sky keeps changing
clouds of starlings dance in pulse and parody
and i smile at the futility of standing
.
float and eddy
swirl and bend
let go let go let go
.
it’s all happening
.
.
.
.
even the stars
were off kilter
last night
orion laying low
on the horizon
the southern cross
trying to kiss
cassiopeia
.
my feet were on the ground
but my heart kept floating
.
ursa major
poised to capture
every tear
.
.
.
.
i search for beauty in the bones of every skeleton
architecture is the art of building frames
i thought i was a writer once, then i became human
the sky is a cage built for starlings
i am the ghost of my grandmother, re-contrived
.
all the leaves have fallen now and the wind has moved on
we stand naked in the weak winter sunshine,
refusing the invitation to bend
.
.
.
.
the night
i showed you
the shape
of insanity
you called me a liar
and a thief
screaming your colorful
banshee derision and demanding
the return of your soul
i had no way
to make you understand
i’d given up my science
for you
walked away from theory
and formula
left behind explanation
and conclusion
i wanted to show you
my passion
i wanted to offer
my heart
i wanted to light
the darkness
with new stars
and share the pattern
love makes
as it races
through the night
from you
to me
but you
were unable
to see
.
.
.
