Renewing Fidelity

simplicity a deception
or maybe just the assumption
that it lacks depth
for the unfathomable truth
is that the offer never changes
the devotion choice is every day

Scalping Strawberries

blade pulling toward
the flesh of my thumb
sliding smoothly
leaving a trail of red
life blood of spring
one after another
until the bowl overflows
with wedges of sweetness
sacrificed to waiting lips
luscious bites of sunlight
staining with earth's power
succulent and bright

Twilight Mirror View

jolting at 4 a.m.
soft glow of streetlamps
lighting my path
straightening pajamas
binding like ropes
from tossing nightmares
Gobi camped in my throat
I reach the faucet
without glasses all is a blur
plastic textured cup
and moderately cold water
splashing to unparch
leaning in close
reflection becomes clear
nose nearly touching glass
mascara smudged at the corners
of hooded haunted eyes
but no answers there
so I trudge back
succumbing to dreams again
carrying questions in my wake

Weighted Perspicacity

wanted to scream in frustration
trying to lead the way
yet undermined from inside
negativity like a slow wound
sluggish yet pervasive
and though I press on
blank stares my only companion
determination falls to perception
as I tumble under perforce

Rock the Boat

feel the icy splash of knowledge
on your skin
on your thoughts
let it douse the flame of mindless rage
chill the blood
that runs so hot
and lets your tongue escape
racing circles
passing coals
quiet weapons that flare in dry minds
capsize
to save us all

Symphony Showers

staccato rain beats

water music stops and starts

full washed moon looks on

Scratch the Surface

we spoke circles
conversation restart
restart
record skipping again
and like a script
I knew my part
open smiles
and vague responses
stunted growth
shattered
but softly
restart
rerun
reset again

Megrim? Yes Very

cracked like an egg
jagged shells framing the ache
a metronome with my heart
beating against bone
risking over easy escape

Hindsight Perfection

he bought her time
with deep pockets and loose promises
flattery tied neatly with strings
that choked as she swallowed it down
clothed his naked subjugation
in pressed Egyptian cotton
and with ropes of diamonds
bound her tighter than iron shackles
purchasing her presence not her passion
her thoughts wandered free
to shallow pockets and wrinkled shirts
hung on clear blue-eyed vision
and laughter ringing only for her

Eternal Childhood

boys with their toys
nolonger die-cast racers
and little green men
as pepper concedes to salt
digital playgrounds arise
with menus like eternal Matryoshka
no more coonskin cap
exploring the backyard wilderness
but traversing a backlit landscape
immersed in unashamed glee

Soporific Travels

in the predawn hours
I tossed
frantically searching
behind curtained eyes
a deadline to make
with passport in hand
to gain entry
crossing the border
from reality to dream

First Bloom

emerging unscathed
an emerald rapier
skewering the spring breeze
pioneering predecessor
beating a path
forging the base
thus others may follow
embracing the forebearer
promenade home
lady in the middle
blushing bride
emerging unscathed

The Crone

withered by life
yet vibrant with wisdom
lofty experience and mundane days
all have value
each piece belonging to the puzzle
each puzzle belonging to the world
each world within her fragile grasp

The Vessel and the Voice

fog rolls in
and the air is thick with you
infusing every breath
as a chalice overflowing
blanketed, the world falls away
clamor only a memory
but your words ring pure
pierced with sun's blade
we split apart
the vessel and the voice

Motion Passed

we formed a quorum
me, my fear, my doubt, my love
so greatly outnumbered little you
that the vote was cast
and still you won

Right Atrium Entrance

you chose to bivouac in my heart
what a strange place to camp
setting up for just one night
tent stakes piercing deep
wounds you shall leave behind
when dawn beckons you forth

Wordless Thunder

she learned to run
before she could walk
will always scream
before she will talk
can break your wrist
just shaking your hand
yet never seems
to understand
she'd rather take to the skies
and pitch her voice loud
fight tooth and nail
to show that she's proud
but of what?

Verdant Arras

tightly around my spine
climbing ivy twining in and out
woven betwixt ribs
a tapestry of pride
straight-backed august
framing that wince
supportive/restrictive
over lungs unsung
who nolonger ache for air

Memory's Shore

history echoes back
across the years
traveling like waves
breaking against my shell
eroding in tiny fingers
like your hand on my arm

Aries

forever leading the herd
pioneer breaking through
charisma the final word
absent what others knew

no wooly lamb setting stride
endeavors blithely shorn
success instead sought with pride
sinew and daring born

Growing, Not Closer

age peers around the edges
roots sprouting like silver grasses
lines of joy that belie
but mostly trapped behind the eyes
well worn paths of regret
gray wrinkles of lifes' mathematics
the serpentine maze that echoes
with dreams yet unfulfilled

You Shouldn't Get Us Started

voice swinging from humor to care
the discussion rolls on
gaining momentum
pulling away from her grasp
and she races to get in front again
to still the deprecation
herd us back to point
but we have caught our stride
rolling from one to another
an avalanche of impressions
constructing a new wall
three stories high
to where she stands
calm at her chosen finish line

Aunt Duck

Once upon a time
(the time of 3:35 pm to be exact)
in a land far, far away
(well, maybe 50 miles)
lived a beautiful princess
(it was a nickname)
with long(ish) blond(ish) hair
and big blue eyes
(sometimes green
depending how the sun hit them).

She lived with her parents
(happily married 15 years)
in a huge castle
(three bedroom Victorian)
on the top of a mountain
(up the street)
with a moat
(left the garden hose on)
and a terrifying dragon
(a bichon frise that yipped).

This particular afternoon
(3:35 pm, remember?)
the princess embarked upon a quest
(got bored and went for a walk)
to find a magic chalice
(teacup she'd lost)
that would bring her wisdom
(like how to french braid),
incredible prosperity
(enough to buy her own candy),
and formidable courage
(to get rid of her nightlight).

Along the way she scaled towers
(the jungle gym),
escaped horrible monsters
(boys with cooties),
and discovered riches
(a heads-up penny).

As the day came to a close
(streetlights coming on any second),
she returned triumphantly
(teacup in hand)
to share her tale of adventure
(with props and fun sound effects).


The End
(It's a story, sorta)

Jealousy Stalking

green eyed monster
chomping at my heels
while you carry on oblivious
and I fill my days
pointedly ignoring your absence
pin back my hair
roll up my sleeves
set to work on being me
but my hair falls
my sleeves stretch
and you're still everything I wish

Thought Tectonics

carried on wires and waves
spanning the globe
words reach me
transmuting my soul
forever shifting my place
in this seismic world

Losing Battle

sleep tugging at my lids
I forge on
no time to rest
but still it drags me
kicking and screaming
into the depths
extinguishing the lights
and though I resist
the darkness cares none

On the River's Edge

every action flows on
threading the world like a river
every thought feeding the waters
until the banks can nolonger hold
and we are washed clean

The Fool

couched in humor
he bends your ear
revelations no other could make
for behind his laugh
the click of thoughts
sliding into the working puzzle
his smiling face a mirror
reflection of the is and could be

TGIF

darkness falls this day

pain of unfinished business

more wretched than this

for he knows we aren't prepared

time to learn his lessons true

Soul Jumper

to be someone else
slip into a life like a little black dress
smoothing cloth against rounded hips
brushing out the wrinkles of a personality
not a twin, a copycat
but an embodiment, an expression
the essence outpouring
rolling fog come breathing in
and suddenly Her
the curve of the spine, flow of the hands
each little tick fills me
until the next one comes along