Monday, April 10, 2017

the enigma

every time I sit with her,
I slip into the silence of a forest,
where mysteries are written
on festive fronds,
dancing in the light
of the darkness around.

every time I sit with her,
I grow into a still leaf,
hanging on the edge
of not knowing
when and how I'm going to
fly or fall.

every time I sit with her,
my eyes close all on their own,
taking me deep into the void,
where everything marries nothing,
where thoughts freeze over a warm lake,
where I sit on the edge
watching ripples make stars,
lost in the wonder of how
humans and animals live together,
skin against skin,
how words fall like dead leaves
to the forest floor,
how skins smell and touch each other
without touching,
with a quiet, endless love.

Saturday, April 8, 2017

the weight of clouds


these clouds have a mind of their own.
or no mind. when I watch them
come and go
without reason,
without announcements,
they passover
on tip toes,
walking on wings I cannot see,
but only feel in the pores
of this skin held taut,
now filled with the weight
of these weightless clouds.

Wednesday, April 5, 2017

there is a joy that's quiet, 
with no flairs and flourishes, 
nor expressed 
with exclamation and gushes,
just a simple, silent celebration 
of everything and nothing, 
like falling snowflakes 
melting into a warm earth.

Monday, April 3, 2017

lying here,
stretched to my bones,
listless and worn,
an empty parchment,
listening to a thousand songs,
waiting to be written,
and rolled out
into the world.
undone.

a small world

my eyes are contained
for once
to this room,
the arc from the window
to the green wall,
half a circle
of thoughts and dreams,
of longings and betrayals,
of losses and seeds,
and I feel the whole world
through the dancing leaves
and swaying trees,
the impatient crow calls
and the crisp morning breeze,
the sound of kisses and hugs,
between father and son,
and for a while
I let myself simmer
in the quiet
of a small world,
filled with a deepening love.
tentacles of thoughts
and feelings,
known and unknown,
once groping 
in the murky blue,
now cut off,
drawn in,
into the void,
to feed on itself,
its own flesh, spirit
and skin.