that's mrs. mediocrity to you

all day long i listen to the song
of grasshoppers, crickets, and beetles

after a time, i can hear nothing else

the buzz of a hummingbird sipping nectar
from windowbox purple petunias
shifts me from there to here

again

and again

and i marvel at wings
quite literally
spun from sugar

you drive into the world of concrete jungle

you drive into the world

you drive

away

as i walk these paths
choked with weeds and chewed up leaves

pulling a cloak of clouds over your shoulder
to remind me that the stars are always lit

and i am here

here

with only these crows for company

some days they tell me of your travels

some days they carry me to grace

some days they peck at my shiny rings
as i reach for the sky with lost fingers

some days
they bring me
white feathers

held in beaks flecked with blood, stardust

and gold

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Note: I am having problems commenting on WordPress blogs for some reason… but I am still reading!!

i listen for the space between splashes
and wait for the mystery of fountain

water is everywhere and i’m afraid to drown
one drip of silence at a time

but this pool on the floor just keeps growing
rivulets and fingers spreading stain

i dip my thumb in your aged chalice
still thirsty for all you cannot give

in this room i read the chronicle of empty
and everything you feed me tastes of salt

my heart drinks you in and spits lost longing
into the dusty veil of open corners

this is the mud we wallow in
though later we’ll leave footprints in the hall

as the laughter of thunder echoes lightly
and rain keeps running down the wall

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it’s not my soul i want to show you
though blue is never hard to find

not my heart that opens
petal by petal

nor an hourglass ticking beads
of broken glass and burnished
mirror

i lay on the ground and stare at sky
to see the everything of nothingness

but there is no cloud
to hang my string from
and i find
i don’t want to be tethered

i embrace eternity’s grace
even as it leaves me

barren

open

whole

i’ve moved past something
without even knowing i was turning

and if i lay here long enough
the sun will bleach my bones

i find this comforting

the dance that began in my feet
has found the window of my eyes

i let the music fly
sigh dry
cry high

this
is what i want you to hear

this is the year
i learned to sing

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arms wide open

reach for the light

even when

it blinds you

.

pretty pictures
telling prism stories
and so much gets lost
in lead and separation

everything you see
is colored
by comparison

complement and
analogy

pattern and shade

rendition and
supplication

you have to listen

the wind
seeps in
between pane
and crack

the truth
is always
in the whispers

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and now you walk bare shouldered
down a road that has no secret

no curve or twist to make you wander
as you form new blisters and
sweat gallons of yester
days
into this insatiable sand

the signs all say keep walking
and so you stop
drink air from empty pockets
wishing you’d remembered
the only book you’ve never read

and

the sun never was your friend
even though you held its warmth
on ten thousand days of skin
and horizon is the same
as ever after

your bones always knew
the way to cave and
dancing flame

but you passed by
the mouth of silence

screaming

adaptation is the mother of sanity

you think i’m wrong hiding beneath
this blanket of light
absorbing everything you say

my shadow has hot, hard edges

nothing gets blurred from black to white
you are blue and i am syllable
stitched together by frustration’s empty needle

there is no breeze to humble this silence

and the sun creeps by in patterns
geese and ring, cabin and star
pieced-together stories left unread

we are puzzles in a frame of empathy

one day soon, it will rain again
wash us clean and bleed our colors together
until we’ll have to squint to define

the outlines of distinction

even as they fade

away

i hear your song
in the morning

an echo of night
and moon
and cassiopeia

i sit silently
listening

for ever

there is no time
in the sand
that pours
through your veins

but this music
keeps me

dancing

my garden forgives
all my sins

neglect
lazy indifference
impatient expectation

roses climb and clamber
fixed on fun and chaos
neverminding the rules
of convention

pretty
is not the same
as fragile

this place feeds
bug and snail
soul and spirit
bird and body

there are no straight lines
no honest assumptions

no pretense
or promise
beneath this sky dome
night temple

and you will always
get your hands
dirty

.

with the wind in your hair

and a song in your heart

and love on the tips

of your fingers

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