Write.

You forgot about me didn’t you, momentum said to action pen scrawled up some words the paper spelled reaction it. is. time. – to begin Advertisements

Welcome to the melodic solstice of my mulberry façade

Here we were with the passion of noon-sun burning deep through our eyes when we swam through the ocean of many tomorrows.  And the mountain let you peer over the edge and see possibility.  This made you cry.  This made you remember what it felt like to care for things that could be lost.  With…

Class Lesson

“He passed away,” “No, say he died” Too blunt The teacher gives us the news I notice his shirt Slowly, quietly “at 2 am, he. . .” Maroon, with light pink “he looked green” A paisley design “after teaching 36 years” A very old looking shirt “math, science, teaching just last week” Very eccentric looking…

Redemption

Suffering is the polarity to glory Despair is the undercoat of worship Where is Sanity’s equinox? In the day of dying and birthing.

Sugar, Sugar

Strawberry skies In vanilla disguised And rushed blushes With unfamiliar sighs This caked application On homemade occasions Hand-dipped vacations With candle votives On chandelier highs When blueberry bagel dances Mimic romances Cheesecake speedways slide While red diner dives Take motorcycle-jacket guys Into smoke covered alleys While hazelnuts whisper Throwing caution aside And fountain cheeks dimple…

Boys

They’re all nectar and Novocain While we’re numbing our hearts While we become sweetness Seducing their scars   They’re all nectar and Novocain While humanity’s rotting In the mouths of mere mortals Who’ve abandoned what’s sacred   They’re all nectar and Novocain Needing succor from Diana To save them from battle And cauterize wounds  …

Micah

would that feathers were fierce enough to slice through your brittle brown skin would that would that words were hot enough to cook your raw red heart and you would break and you would break and you would break would that your image would die as fast as your passion for me did. would that…

Spilling tales into textual permanence

Spilling tales into textual permanence,  the writer happens upon her call. As natural as this clumsy reach for a plastic cup across the couch and onto the table that began dry and then gingerly flooded with clear liquid. We say, ‘it’s only water’ and continue through our day. That’s how it begins— in a scene…

Absence

I lost all my mentors They spilled out on the floor And rolled away with memories Of being a child on the floor I left all my heros Stranded in history Trapped far from my reality And heard only through the whispered words of ghosts Pastor. President. Parent. Professor. Whoever you are Once again line…

He is

He is my song the joy in my heart He is the words that were broken apart He is the healing that I cannot start He is my song the joy in my heart He is the shadow-breaker, light-maker, life-maker, earth-shaker He is He is He is my song and my breath and my feet…