Death, dreams

Burnt

Mapping the voids of a phosphorescent microscopic oasis
Touching the talisman of the chemist mind…
Interior soft blue
The unshattered chandelier before…
The carbon choke misery

In the end of the century,
bees will seek the flame
As lava once flowed out of lunar rage
Smothered terra and blacken ash…
Runes of the meaning of grace
The trees will broadcast our dreams,
Of sobs muffled by the blaze
As the dusty feet of bees,
Are retired whispers in the torrid breeze

Advertisements
Standard
Echo Muses, love

Love Formations

The enormity of love, sliding down
in your slot canyon
I’m isolated by your beauty,
consumed in the dreams of youth
Abandoning centuries
for this kind of love

I feel apart of it esculating
and you want me paramount
But I feel my ancient hurts spinning in the wind
Cocooning me with prickles of whispers,
and whimpering lies that are winding my clay heart brittle

 

Standard
dreams, love

Rippled Ribbon

I felt like an angel that night for you
Without acquiescence of your cry
Only of your truth, wrapped in a brilliant bow of baby powder blues
In all your sorrow, your heart is still the silk
Shiny but slippery through all the grasping hands that wanted you

I once played a part in that swirling galaxy dust
But now I’m no angel
Just some kind of human creature, wanting to pause and wishing to be braver
Like the earth and give back better

I have this version of me in my head
Where I seize that separation for a brief moment
That vast chilly lake
I would plunge myself into
To cross over
Lie my body near the unexplored
But the dream is a ripple under denial
And the vitrified stones surround my sinking dawnstar fate

Art: James Nares

Standard
love, Lunar Poems

Cords of Light

Feeling around this darkness, alone
Except for the lasso of earthshine
All I have, are these imaginings
If I was whole;
The light would break through these craters of eyes
And the vastness of dawn would nourish
our friendship like the wildflowers

Rumi says “Submit to love without thinking, as the sun this morning rose recklessly extinguishing our star-candle minds.”

Pinhole Photograph from: I am not this body by Barbara Ess

 

Standard
Mine Na Poems

Snowflake Obsidian

Overwhelmed with the prints
Of yesterday’s ideas
Light as a feather, soon to be, no more
Your heavy anchor sunk my vision
And yet, that ship came in
As the oval window has closed in my ear
And the whirlwind has left my lungs
For swirling lovers of the skies,
In the wind, dance to a uniquely pattern,
And eventually fall, to rest on the earth
To melt and seep, into its glowing core
And spring back up, from a geyser
As I drip upon your obsidian floor


Standard