Black night in winter…so cold and clear your hands sting, grow numb; puffs of foggy breath cloud your vision. the quietly vigilant, shyly meddling moon winks, casting a teasing mother’s smile down upon her children-all those that seek her comfort and counsel. Heads tilted back in reverential wonder, we gaze up at her gentle, glowing face, feel her tender nimbus, her indulgent re-assurance. Sharp stars pierce, rend the Stygian velvet with sparkling, haughty brilliance…jesters of the sky, every twinkle a giggle, a smirking laugh, a somber probing question. Just one person (standing solemnly, arms raised victoriously in an Elysian embrace) could feel communion, a tethered connection with these luminous hosts who entertain our hopes, our faith, our imaginations; who diffuse our germinating essence like loose seeds throughout the endless, timeless,spinning cosmos.
thorns and thistles
Roses killed and lilies rotten,
an orchid’s prayer that I’ve forgotten..
decry the florid wings that open.
Petals fold in deep devotion.
worms and snails and larvae trails
that eat their roaming tender roots-
such anguished cries are strangled mute.
But I, in turn, destroy them all-
(a lofty rise,
then angry fall)
to crush the hungry savage brutes,
with ragged nails
and sharpened tooth.
and stinging truths
that cut like brittle crystal shards,
inflicted when I try too hard-
and add far too much seasoning
to bland and tasteless remedies..
and shatters deep,
revealing cracks and spitting steam;
A landscape I neglect to see..
Proud thunderous growls
I can’t repeat
Bear brutal truths
In stark relief.
Awake from drowsy, frenzied sleep,
Seduced by dreams,
So slick and sweet;
This serpents tongue
That I conceived
Springs from my lips,
by empty words in empty beds.
A litany of reprimands,
all firm resolve and weak demands,
(all crushed in desperate, wringing hands).
Translucent, vague, and fragile dreams,
a butterfly’s infected wings;
Through weeping fog and Spanish moss,
where bitter seeds
bear withered crops.
Embraced as truth,
cast out, deceived-
what I had dreamed,
these lies believed,
Had nothing much to do with me,
just echoes from a distant drum
toward which I crawled
but should have run.