Archive | June 2014


Go and be what you will.

I held your ghost
like a shell to my ear,
but never had more
than an echo of ocean —
shallow and unreal.

And I do not know
what I would be,
but this battle does not serve.

I am tired of bleeding.
And I am tired of burning.
All to no end.

So go.
Keep yourself to yourself,
if you must.

And I will lay down
the shell,
the spear,
and submit
to this season of silence.


Earthly delicious

What did they know of this place
before its gate swung open?

A name?
Whispers of rumor? —
and yet,
they choose it.

Seed clouds uplifting
to the sun,
just so —
vision flames
and fades —
the insidious persistence,
the peril of the eye.

We never can escape it.

We must teach it
the daily incarnation.

Today, I walked in,
spider in my hair,
heat and dirt,
sweet and salty skin,
mud on my cheek,
ground into knuckles.

And he found a way to see that.


When you withhold it,
I want to push
past the soft edge
of these curves —
explore outside
the angle of your eye.

And I couldn’t tell you
what it is that hurts —
head, heart or hip —
only that the bending lines
bring me to this,
sand and dirt.
We dig in,
learning the lie
of old teeth and new.

I give it up
for nothing.
Let him take —
ease past the gate,
a garden full of shadow,
shifting with the progress of light —
lowering my eyes,
I let him.


And sudden from the overgrown,
a sense of frightened flight —
reclusive wing rises to it
then settles back
to withholding,
unaware how we wield words
and the winding of strings.

The mute swan sits her nest,
and a warbling
again gives you away.
We still have long eyes.
And we still know
where the risk is too steep.
We climb alone,
a union of effort.

Wind across water
waves cattails
as if to say,
So here you are.
We’d been wondering.
And it moves
more subtle too —

in graying eyes
and bones that settle themselves
like hidden birds
to wait,
to accept —
what purpose,
what pain and pleasure
it brings.