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| Poet Reading Poet words, like liquid copper pouring through the splashing clatter. Singing, to the tin sounds, motors humming. A full house of whirling spinning tone. It stops to listen for the blind woman. Round words, living in a round intonation. A copper vision, its song for my eyes Round eyes bright, words within them brimming. Singing songs of life and women, thoughts in the air Singing, breathing, living. |
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The bark feels warm against my feet, its rough realness brings me partially out of the melancholly that has consumed me all afternoon. It's so quiet in my thoughts today. The wind and the insects rustling through the branches blend together in a soothing hum that is almost meditative. The sunlight filtering through the leaves reminds me of last summer. Sitting in the branches of our tree I can just see the cabin we built together. That seems so long ago now. The days are getting cooler. Even through the heat covering the forest today, I can feel fall telling the trees of her arrival. I sense a change within myself as well, these last few months at the cabin have been good for me. I had to leave the city, it was so crowded with uncaring humanity, mocking me, now that I am alone. I spoke with Miri yesteday she is making arrangements for my return, and I have asked her to order tiger lilies for you. I know she will get them, but she sounded so sad. They will be there when I arrive, and we shall go together to put them at your headstone.
| Olympia Our windows were dusty I remember trying to clear away a clutter of soda can pop art styrofoam and let the sun in to bake out the mold and remind me what it's like to live instead of passing time. |
Justin Thoughts of my itinerant jester call forth sensory ghosts of clove and mildew breathing into my mouth out of money sleeping on borrowed sheets stealing time to arrest forward motion an endless momentum of loss |
Loss and Longings - 3 untitled poems
| Your tenderness domesticates my wilder impulses run and hide in the bedsheets my mouth my eyes my soul devours you my belly hungry not sated by the hunt. |
In the morning I search the windows for longing the echo of tender violence rests upon my neck. All moments of weakness are not synonymous with loss. |
Later still when the marks he left upon my body fade like his attention a passing shadow dances with a memory reawakening his cinnamon pain as an ache in my skin. |
| Boi's song I found her injured panting away pain and hunger wary of my presence with care and patience won her stronger than kindness is safety. But her eyes are on the shadows and at his howl she is gone again. |
In the spin We could run together laughing and falling down in the sunshine each of us reaching forward for the one who sends us sparks a flavor of newness and leaving the rest behind eventual desertion inevitable circular love like circular hate bites us back in the end. |