June 30, 2010

fire burning in my bones,

this old skeleton,

shaking and rattling like stones in an old glass jar—

a hailstorm of embers,

breaking orbit, spiraling into my atmosphere.

June 29, 2010

I am becoming the earth

The staple of existence,

Globe of moss, rusty shells that crumble beneath our feet,

How am I to survive,

These lands,

As alien as a starving planet.

June 28, 2010

Twelve days raining,

Flooding the earth and sky,

The truth, said sweet and simple,

Missing the warmth between us—

Shared days under the canopy of the sun.

June 27, 2010

His flare for the dramatic, going unnoticed

like the pictures on the walls, passing by them a thousand times—

there is nothing I see anymore.

Yet, a hand on a glass, a bar room, the smells of life and

sounds of music like the dim, keening song of a skipping record—

I wish him to be a sparrow, strong little soul, take flight!

Into the wind and across the sea.

June 26, 2010

Waiting for you is the hardest thing I can do,

Standing on the steps,

Outside of your building, sunny sky

Speckled with cumulus clouds on their way across the map.

June 25, 2010

Lost something so precious,

rusty notes,

the keys on a piano–

Never come back.

June 24, 2010

oranges growing mold,

stones sitting still,

moss under the soles of shoes.

June 23, 2010

I am watching rainy days, the spattering of water on the sheathed bloom of my umbrella.

Things in hand, things slipping quickly away—a loose stone, a slippery incline of grass, and mud, and life.

What are the things I have forgotten?

The way I come and go, back to the earth, enriching the soil with the nutrients of my body.

What things, the great secret of a tiny seed, to look forward to.

June 22, 2010

wind

rushing downward like

the tunnel of days that we walk through together

writing love poems like

stranded lovers connected by bottle caps

or birds taking to wing

June 21, 2010

river bed,

bulrushes pebbling the bank

like arrows on the straight and narrow