November 29, 2013

Longing Illusions

Step to the curb, flag down a cab
Harmony blends city noises
Indecision cracks the lens  
Shimmering the edges of sad

Swing through the night air
Whispers with wind and rain
Songs beat out a melody
The rustle and tussle of your hair

This is for you
For yesterday, today and tomorrow
You can feel it, you can’t hide from it
Where love takes its cue

To sleep, to sleep
Struggling with sleep, exasperated longing
Dizzy with haze, yet beautiful pictures
My soul to keep

November 24, 2013


Before the sun rises
Before the rooster crows
Before the dew dries the leafy green
Before the earth sighs away the in-between

The dawn of morning light still struggles of new beginnings of today, of yesterday, of all the tomorrows, but with a present breaking path, I will have no shudders, no shakes; no tremors with lightening bolts of silver, with no piercing arcs of light to hold me back, held high above my head.

A sharper image of present days, of the now, with hopes of returns on the morrow; hold me fast, no sorrow, as the days are just beginning my girl, today we shall win the race of the chosen few; with the gathering speed piercing the air to win, to win, victory becomes a shout, taking the lead without falter of first step, of last, to win the race before time. 

November 17, 2013

Confessions of the Letter F

A chicken carcass; bone, picked clean of all of its skin, muscle and sinewy meat, and parts that now dangle deep into a simmering broth on the stove, edge to edge vegetables seasoned to taste.

In the bathroom the shower runs hot, I hear slight pulsations of drops bouncing off the walls, vibrating irreverent white noise, reminding me that this is where I will take my next step. 

But wait  

Standing here, stripping my layers of night and lounge clothes off of my body, I think:  I did not get dressed in my daytime cloths today, because I didn’t have to.  I didn’t care.  

No makeup
A naked face looks back at me from the mirror

I look down to a hard and soft layer of belly protruding below my breasts, like a hungry child waiting for its next meal on the outside of this world, yet growing smaller.  As I drop the rest of my layers to the floor, the water is yelling at me to crawl into its hot cocoon shaped nest.

Safe from mirrors
Hide yourself with water

Scorching drops hit my arm, my leg, and my backside; beckoning, come closer; I turn my back into it, allowing this stream to soak, sensing cooler drops running off, down the front of my torso.  I avoid the hot stream of water to my face, only allowing it to careen over my shoulders, down, over and between my breasts, cooling; down, over my belly, that fat eruption which reminds of what my hunger brought into my world, onto this naked carcass.  

I try to wash it away
It stays

I wash my hair, but this motion does not take away intrusive reminders, soap cascading down, into yet other places to wash clean around my belly. I had eaten to fatten these nerve endings, these muscles, these tendons, and the bone from which it all lies.  

A child is brought into this world, starving, because of my hunger to produce this fatty shield in which to hide.
Now I want to throw it all away, this useless fat, when there are children who have none to spare.  

My selfish nature did this, I tell myself
But, but, wait!

I tell myself we all have that part inside of us to be selfish
Only mine shows up like an unwanted letter F

November 12, 2013

White, the Color of Silence - Three in One

Think about this:
Everything you hear is color, whether black or white, or anything in-between, it is all color
What is color?

The wind blows specks of brown, noisily pelting sides of steel
 ping, ping, ping, the air floats
against grays of dust motes

Lingering, sounds of gritty rocks lodged within shoe treads, etching sidewalks a chalky white.  It’s music, hot as a red poker, shooting arrows of vibration over dirt covered streets, straight to the underground, nerves of steel shattered; straight to the drums of ears, straight to the heart, a hot red noise.

Sounds of blues and greens; cooling the undercurrent,  ripples splash over a moss-green log, rolling, sideswiping boulders; get out of the way! 

Leaves, translucent, supple green, soft spoken as a kitten’s purr; yellow as the afternoon sun; orange and reds muted brown, rustle, falling across the ground, a crunch you hear, steps into this litter of leaves

Clouds merge, a rainbow shot with electric current; dance a movement, a rumble, to a clap of hands, a stroke of luck; a nuance of what’s to come.

A heart beats, visualizing a deep shade, blood, a red buried on Valentines Day, a beating a thumping, its pulse to show the travels of love for each.
Falling to the ground, yellow returns; heat melts the white of a snowflake, what color lays in a puddle, as yellow burns away the skin and heats a room 

A room
The room
A white room
No windows, no doors, no floors

White’s voices are hollow
No voice
No one is there
Not even your own voice

Just the silent in and out breathing catches your mind….
Until white speaks
A voice that may never open the door, never fill a room with color
Never recognized; a sweeping landscape of space and time

Again and again, the sun mounts its orb against silence
Reflections of color lighting the window’s bevel
Hitting snow capped hillsides, melting back the day

Shadows begin the awaited internal brow of sunset
Catching your breath, setting the night
A Cymbal’s clash strikes away elusive color

Black, the color of bold, you hold in your arms
A hint of blue motioning quiet
No one can hear you but you

Enter silence, swept with the wind of glistening crystals
Don’t melt away, don’t melt away
Embrace the sounds of night, pleading to stay

The gray, holding court to mount the valiant effort
The monochromatic, invading hues
Blaring sounds of color becomes illusion

Is this true? 
Can you not stay?
Time to be alone, you say?
I’m home, I’m home, she cried
Silence answered her call
But I’m home, she sighed
No answer, just silence is all
Silence pulled her
Silence pushed her
Silence waited for her

Alone, to be alone
Where silence is silence
And no one is home
Silence huddled around
harsh and round
fragmented and torn
well of resentment warn
decayed and concentric
down to molding fabric
Swells on a breeze
Gone, gone, gone
Gone are the words
Gone are the thoughts
Gone into night
The space I created is gone hot white

Guilt, the tormentor burns and scars, scabs break and bleed, rendered useless from silence and grief
cascades the rivers to cool the wound
Yet only to yield to pathetic filaments born unto the air
born out of fear
Gone are the words that busy the day
That saves the day
That makes the day

Gone are the words that wash a well of hurt away
Gone is that day
And white, the color of Silence, does stay