Huge Fragments of Light

Still

2009-11-12T21:11:00.000-07:00

When eyelids dip deeply and
breathing finds peace,
muscles sigh sweetly
and mind
starts to feast
on ideas still folded and
stored high in haste
unwrapped now in
secret
and savored in taste;
Then music spills fluid,
staining the air
with both brilliant patterns
and memories so fair;
The richest of moments
that grant me my
fill
are those I rest softly
imagining,
still.

Verity

2009-11-04T22:16:00.002-07:00

For discussion, dignity,
and the graining of grace
less is always
infinitely more
Practice restraint to find
purpose in peace;
only wings of sincerity
can spread
and then soar.

Untitled

2009-09-29T14:10:00.000-06:00

From an inky sort of blackness
comes a rainbow's sacred sound
where eyes beaming as portals
well their wisdom from the ground

Untold stories hiding endings
that we aren't yet meant to know
walled by egos (not by bridges)
mute our movement, dam our flow

It's a frightening kind of cavern
with familiar shadows long
yet only absence of all light
allows emergence, free and strong

If love contains our knowledge,
all these stories in our skin,
our beings will only widen
as knowing works within

A gentle inner landscape
awakens slowly to its task;
Pleasure applauds purpose
that surrenders present,
honors past

"Knowing grows and love expands to contain it. Love is just the skin of knowing."
- William Paul Young, from "The Shack"

Just Me

2009-09-13T05:51:00.005-06:00

It is for
tender mornings
I blink to see
new chance dawning
to rise as we
In the youngest light
too faint to hear
my muscles murmur
I'm still here
New day air
eager and fresh
peels dreams away in
ribboned flesh
In later hours
real tones reveal
sun exposure,
cracks unsealed
And despite that fighting
biting fear
I'll rise again
just me,
still here

Vacillate Virtue

2009-08-24T21:26:00.003-06:00

Does it bite? Does it burn?
Does it chew? Does it churn?

Does it buzz? Does it crawl?
Does it push? Does it maul?

Is it red? Is it fast?
When it comes, does it last?

When the eyes of those near
wince in hurt, close in tears
Do you stop?

Do you see?

Do you know
you're not free?

Thirst

2009-08-02T11:36:00.006-06:00

Waves of intermittent glee
crest and crash away
from me. A silver sunset,
a bare shoreline, the languid,
liquid arch of time. Love wets
my life in seasoned forms;
iced hard in cold and freed
in warmth. Much like to earth
it sinks its knees,
rushes roots and sprinkles
trees, boasts blue mountains,
sings in springs, swells in clouds
and sleets in wings; the wish for
love to stay
one way, captured, cupped,
for countless days,
flows with dreams
of being drenched
in one final, fluid,
exquisite quench.

Some Ways

2009-07-31T21:24:00.002-06:00

There was no unfettered whole for
him; a bootstrap without an ankle.
It was only in inebriated ecstasy
that clarity revealed itself to
his jagged consciousness. Among the
seasonal mercies, his tepid attempts
resulted in only unmarked segments
of time, underutilized.

Given her generous inclination towards
amnesty, she willingly remained a silent
servant, humble in her purpose and ruined
of romantic apparitions. In some
ways, you could call them the
perfect match.

Edge

2009-07-27T12:00:00.003-06:00

With ginger determination she allowed one splendid
glance at that pure, pristine slab of water, so calm
and deceptive. You almost drowned once, she reminded
her mind, and the inner landscape
has just dried from that flood. Natural disasters
have all license to annihilate absolutely, she thought,
yet somehow amongst the wretched rubble there always remains
some sustained life, called to re-root where everything
is suddenly different.
A slippery periphery of sparkling affection steeped up
sharply from the water’s edge. She still wanted to surrender
to that exquisite tumble; in the water splash each inch
of herself into rippling circles, feel her flesh lapped and licked
by liquid love, drenched in the depths of tender
trust and satiated shared experience.
But no, no! Remember the near drowning? The flailing
gasps, the stolen oxygen, the sudden stunting of all senses
save icy numbness and paralyzing pain?
Are we meant to return
to such challenges? Would he?

Yesterday

2009-06-23T10:58:00.001-06:00

I wore a white dress, a gift
from my mother that rippled and
curled in lissome longing for a lost
time. In my lap I traced a friendly
flower bud, aching with
acquaintance. It was possibly
a pattern from another dress I wore
when I was little
and my bitsy body simply
wiggled away from its woes. I have
the same haircut today as I did
when I was three. I don’t remember
fear from then. Now, it leaves my eyes red
and in all that white I must look to others
like a recreant rat.
Outside, erect against the wind
as my dress bracketed my body I pictured
my skin as flour. It was whispered away,
spread and stuck snugly in new
crevices, carried to unknown
locations. I knew then that feeling tremendous
and tiny are the same, and despite the parting
of my particles, I would always keep with me
those white gifts
from my mother.

For You

2009-06-11T22:05:00.007-06:00

I want to write a
nimble poem,
a shiny web of
words, without fluff or
fanfare, grounded and
drifting like the sands
of the Earth.
I want my delicate
collection to touch you,
tenderly, strum you like
harp strings; cold fingers,
a tickling chill, then the
envelope of the
warmest chord.
I want this poem to
reveal everything and
nothing about me, to
hold answers that only
unveil a crisp curiosity
that pesters
with new questions.
I want the whisper
of this poem to graze,
hot on your skin and cool
in your core.
I want this poem to
love you, ask you, hear
you. This poem
is what I crave
for you.

To (K)no(w)

2009-06-02T23:13:00.003-06:00

Limitless love frays in threaded shreds
of hope as cooler days blink wide to light and these
humid hideouts provide only sticky space
and damp regret.

Old messages rang familiar and weathered in
heavy heartbeats, while still
I stood that softening ground, bare,
and for much time now, unobstructed.
Save me the endless chorus, the souring
tune. Those sounds insult in tones more toxic
than any solitary silence.

Weary, this leaden chest has now allowed
itself a proper burial, sunk swiftly amid
snapping bubbles and heaved by unseen currents,
assigned forever to bereft barnacles and a
silted bed; inside, left locked the loss.

To Yes

2009-01-13T09:32:00.001-07:00

Silky melancholy echoes under dripping
notes, like accordion droplets falling
with grace and clever tragedy into
the widest, coolest barrel.

Sinking blinks dip with knees and
swaying hips, arms reaching outward,
forward, skyward for
that single, sonant grip.

Humming gently from the corner you
kept a concerned eye, half
enchanted and half perched to flee;
knowing far before she
these notes were not to be clasped:
these echoes began years before under
desperate skies; sounds meant to land now
as sighs, no longer secrets but clear, unfeigned
markings on a clean and
fertile inner landscape.

From then came the original and now
it’s prettier twin sings
her sweet responses. Twisted in piano, trumpet
and tongue, the staccato, allegro,
crescendo clues
to yes.

On Faith

2008-10-30T11:04:00.000-06:00

Jagged ignorance peels and aged
curls of bark coil away from their
familiar anchor. From this soft green exposure, pale
to new light and disrobed by time’s guardian
it is now known that this same slivering, raw
armor fell away from you in parallel sheets, shed
in uncombed ribbons. You emerged then, cold and
conscious, armed only with the purest clarity -
not gripped by fists but instead, glowing
from each fully blossomed
palm. Nameless then was the intended
form; just as in those thundering
moments of His sacrifice, unsheathed
you stood: my first man
and last example.
That dew drop truth nourished just
one leaf which in dutiful turn
quenched its brothers. In this new season, as
yellow almonds shiver from their heights
and fuse with soil, so does this chilly awakening
breathe blustery truth through my limbs -
poised now to extend
upwards, rooted in
history and flourishing
on faith.

Have I Been Running?

2008-10-16T23:34:00.004-06:00

Have I been running? Did I run? Were those clouds the dim denial
of sun? To what degree was that mirrored lake an exploration or great
escape? I knew well if I stayed I would never move, lodged in logic,
convinced and soothed, so
despite biting anxiety that has burned
away, I have learned a stillness, the resolve to stay. In reply to
that voice press on, press on I ask, where have my convictions gone?
Where is peace, if in my heart, to lay its head? And with
whom is she to share her bed? In outstretched arms before a gentle
nudge I want to run forever and never budge. Is this a race
with a ribboned end, or a journey over which I segment
and spread? There is an us that has never seen routine
and an unpeeled love ripe for time unseen. Will I house
life or will life house me, and through which will I shine for those
in need to see?

For G.

2008-08-05T10:04:00.000-06:00

This pool is thick and the shadows long
from aching forms that once stood strong
In the unquenched sand, now churning dust
a face looks up, eyes wide, limbs crushed
High up, alone, in the hottest air
your mind trips up on every snare
What could be done and is not yet known
unveils slowly in a restless tone
A film of liquid, thick as clay
still mutes the sounds of what you say
Long hours ahead and pools darker still
may bruise your heart and bend your will
Yet deeper, beyond your secret scenes
you'll find a pulse beneath those seams
sewn in haste against the coldest nights;
It was here, you know
you first found sight.

You Will Not Be Alone

2008-07-09T07:07:00.001-06:00

I'm going on a journey and
can't tell my return, but
the dangers won't
warrant
your painful concern
With sounds swirling slowly in
an inaudible tone
you will hear all these words
and you will not be alone:

Through worn, dirty
distance, to this
cavernous heart
I will see, feel and hear
you; new stories
will start

We'll come through the
miles
with our soles each worn
thin, and despite weary
limbs, beam mischievous
grins

We will touch weathered
fingers
palms wide, tip
to tip, and with my face
to yours, hold our unbreakable
grip

A warm simple
glance
and firm certain hug
will be braided in memory and
folded in time
creased and unpacked through
glasses of wine

Over tables and
pavement
in laughter we'll share
our unspoken stories, still
crisp
in the air
Tomorrow will come
and today is soon gone, but
your spirit, dear friend
is my unbroken
dawn

In the Air

2008-06-25T15:38:00.003-06:00

In the air after
him a cologne stings and
brings memories of those who may
know quality but not
where it goes. I have already
known you. Lumbering blackness
in the bending hours of the
day seem to make the street's voices much
louder, shouting as if to say There
isn't much time! Discovering where I come
from while missing where I don't I yearn
less for a place and more for those who
know me best. I glance my
mistrust. That blink means let's not
discuss. That turn says you must
be gentle for entry to be
arranged. I could follow where
anxiety of the unknown beckons
and climb towards that crest of fret
in my chest, but instead smile
at my surroundings, close to
unpleasant prattle of those who should
mean well, feel the glow under the door of
my very smallest room. It is
already fine. It is only a dusting
of gloom.

Satori

2008-06-25T15:38:00.001-06:00

To arrive
at a destination and still
be in awe after trials and
time; to know that the true
journey is greater; to see the place as
part of the story, but watch the story
live itself without need of a
scene; to scribble behind the script being
written, hear the hum of the silvery
soundtrack, be pressed by
prompts that direct me, blink at the marvelous
movement rising up and around
in the crisp new colors and shifting
forms of my experience: destinations
dot my inner horizon, but there has only
ever been one
moment, and it is
this one.

Abbraccio

2008-04-18T11:15:00.001-06:00

There are hands clasping
mine that I cannot see and
an embrace, warm and
widespread
that unfolds when I
feel most free. There
are kisses in my
consciousness that breathe the
beauty of new days and
graze against this solitary
flesh with the promise of
what I choose not
to guess. The veneer
of old love, cracked
and fallen, only shelled this light
that proffered a calling. This
seduction, the deepest,
trembles gently in
stealth, with soft
anticipation
of only
itself.

Latitude

2008-04-12T00:11:00.001-06:00

Maps and lives tear
at their seams and
we are all
rattled refugees
from somewhere. Can you
suspend
long enough to sit in
solitude
with the question, Where
do I belong?
There is a purpose beyond
possessions, and tasks
that surpass the trepidation
they churn. Raw
suffering can sooth
those sleeping sorrows
and nothing brings the texture
of life
to your fingertips like
pain. But gaze
in any light at those
you find courageous
and note their pace,
without pause.
Indulgence of the
self only skips the
step of care and
help. And need will be
breeding in mournful waves
until openness can tenderize
your heart.
Adjust your frequency. Receive
your message. Point
to those coordinates and you
will know
the boundless belonging
of home.

And Untrue

2008-02-27T01:00:00.000-07:00

Riding this wave of awareness
without the provided
reigns, I will meet me, in time
and by then
I will have changed
forms again
be more like you and less like
them, a constant
morphing amalgam
colored subconsciously through time
and talk. Do you
live as if something significant depended
desperately
on your dreams? When your eyelids
enclose you in that courtyard of foreboding
and fear, step one step
after another
and meet me there.
We will embrace, pull
our purpose, with faith,
to waking. We will walk Peace
our new companion
to the edge of reason
where the trees
bend in question
marks and everything we are encouraged
to accept
becomes unglued; suddenly ghostly
and untrue.

Dear Soldier

2008-02-13T22:15:00.002-07:00

A gentle tide beats
against the shore
of an inner landscape.
At times, swimming from
sleep, blinking through the
undercurrent, a restlessness
still swirls
in the early light
demanding difference.
There is no shame
in longing,
no weakness
in craving comfort.
It is the tide
that pulls away
from rocky shores,
destitute
and invulnerable
to erosion.
It is the darkness
in which hands open
breath holds
and between spirits
where fingers clasp.

A Holiday Comes

2008-02-09T19:28:00.000-07:00

A holiday comes, walks
through. The days following
echo its noise in their hollow
hours. I wonder
when we blink
if it's at the pace of our
thoughts. I've stomped
through slush and tickled
my toes on the other side,
the one that's greener.
Anxiety burrows like hungry
worms, eager to populate.
It has been broadcasted through cells
breath and words
that growth and healing
step in time
simultaneous, until the next holiday
when the newest assessment
prints without pause
and change
breathes
through restless trees.

Following Logic

2008-01-28T23:08:00.001-07:00

Following logic
like a terrible art
the lines never breathed
life from hue
The atmosphere, less
colorful concepts and persistent
passion became more
waxy molds
and wicks
unlit.
From its very bend
and knowing frame
even the desk
knew the lofty theme
of its heavy stacks.
A tendril of smoke loops
luxuriously, the only clue
to a present mind
like that hotel
at the city limits;
guestless
but still open.

She Cannot Be Hurt

2008-01-02T13:17:00.001-07:00

She cannot be hurt
if she remains unknown
so she walks these streets
in stolen clothes.
They clung to you
as they molded your form
outlining a you
hollow and warm.
She knows the danger
of being well known
but worse, she could be
to herself soon shown.
No reflective glass or
rippled pool
will hide the fear
of one lost fool.
And so these streets
she walks with dread
spooled in borrowed
bleeding thread.

From the Space

2007-12-16T15:24:00.001-07:00

From the space
around my heart
to the space
around your own
I send this
intention
and make it
gently known:

From the depths
of that blaring blur
you remember who
you always were;

You transition from a
building gray
to a mead of white
and warming rays;

You walk through the
mouth of Surrender’s gate
and step ahead
in lighter weight;

You cross sleeping grass
that yawns its love
and fields that feather
clouds above;

Your silent steps
arch their newest sphere
and find their pathway
free from fear.

Drying

2007-12-11T02:28:00.000-07:00

There is a simple dew
drop truth that rests
on the swollen spine
of a leaf, heart shaped
on a vine
now withered.

Silently it sparkles
this message that neither
of us listened for
at the time:

You were not to be
split open
and I was not to be
tamed

Rather, needed nightly
was a white
ceiling
under which we could
each breathe
and be heard.

That vine waits
to be watered
by more than just
borrowed dew
and desperate tears,
now drying.

Dance

2007-12-10T00:21:00.001-07:00

A hollow drumbeat
sways from unhidden
hips, lashes lower and
arms as tentacles
reach and curl for
everything
touching nothing
but themselves

Carnal claps come in
waves, salted just
enough to thirst
for more
and all members
stand alert in
praise
for the power
of this pulse

The wish to die
in this beat exhales
through circled lips;
to stay
this way
body damp
flushed and
twirling
under sealed eyes
and breath,
burning

Do you do this?

2007-12-06T14:14:00.000-07:00

Rediscover communication
That poetry…
Why is it that every time
you give me
exactly what I need?
I read something
I hear something
I breathe and
remember something
and your face
appears,
smiling
When our voices and words
touch and swap
and settle
I slow down
and catch up
Sense of compassion
Is it because you are that great friend
who would understand? Or is it
something more? Can you love
your friends
this much?
Between supposed lovers.
Do you do this? Do you sit
and wait
for a song to give you an answer?
I know the pieces fit
I know the pieces fit
I know the pieces fit

These Things

2007-12-06T14:08:00.000-07:00

I think about
these things:
How it feels
physically
What it makes
you want to
do
What it makes
you want to
promise
What it makes you
want to
savor
How it drives
you to
abandon
How you know
already
how much it can
hurt
How you still
wonder
if it’s real
and how your abandon
never keeps you from
trying
to find out
Those three
words have their most
power
the first time
they are spoken. From then,
each utterance
weakens.

Loudly

2007-11-19T23:26:00.000-07:00

There was
an affectionate creak
in the floor
of my foundation
A footstep
trespassed here
with delicate
passing
A scent
unknown to me
trembled above
and the walls knew
it would happen
again

A terrible hour
drew in and held close
the memory
of a thousand hours
given to all
and no one
whispering,
loudly

You Sip

2007-11-14T19:36:00.000-07:00

You sip
this moment. It is the
exact moment
that leaves are falling.
It is when
you watch those leaves float
with elegance and
aimless drift to the ground
that your heart lifts
and falls
just a little.

In the shimmer
of the leaf
all faith in the power
of nature is restored.
The grand cycle of things
is abandoned to the idea
of stolen grace that seems
orchestrated in that moment
just for you.
It sparkles
it twirls
it flirts itself away from the cling
of the tree. It grazes its sister leaves
It kisses them
cheek to cheek.
Wind releases
a sigh, and it jumps
from its partners
and descends
like a bullet
aimed to exterminate.

Many leaves
on the ground
seem to you
like so many deaths
of what you have known
as beautiful
Every year, you mourn.
Why do they fall?
And if they must fall,
Why do they do so
with such allure
only to be crushed
and degraded?

The cycle
is remembered. And you know
in these piles is the promise of cold
and the need
to draw closer
warm yourself
by whatever you may have neglected
while the sun rubbed your back.
Those leaves
reflect the season prior.
They said, “Remember this?”
You nodded as they fell.
You wept
as they mixed with litter
and rain.
Their symbolism
was your heat.

Tiny Click

2007-11-12T23:30:00.000-07:00

Hot sleep plays on
grave subjects
lain to expand and extend
as fears attend

When they dream of you
they dream of a
blackness uninhabited
edged in crimson
and wait for the cool
earliness to rouse them
in rescue

In those days we waited
and the air imagined breathed thick
not searing but
a splintered serous
far from smooth

Through a keyhole marked
by rusted time
a tiny click
echoed untimely
frightful freedom

D.E.

2007-11-12T23:24:00.001-07:00

What does it mean
when my heart
feels chased?
We smiled, linked arms
We talked
embraced

The only blame
is the course
of the tide
A deep and open
restless guide

My path was straight
My dreams are true
but now I’ve been
disarmed
by you

Although permission
was never granted
I find myself
here
enchanted

Near Water

2007-11-11T22:34:00.001-07:00

I want to live near
water she said
and it was agreed
explicit in a solemn clause
signed by silence.
She had fed her
friendships squarely with
time and expectations
audibly defined:

The option to cleanse
or drown would
always be a concrete
decree.

Codependence Day

2007-11-11T22:33:00.000-07:00

As summer sweat
and skin
cravings weave themselves
into evening hours
and tepid nights,

slowed

I allow pictured
nude atop a high hill
my flesh pressed
against other flesh
grass in hair
as fireworks cascade
the city and litter
the sky
in artificial
glitter
(The other kind
of American
bomb)

Who
I wonder
would I choose
as company?

When They Bite

2007-11-11T22:32:00.006-07:00

When I allow myself to think of you I feel this
bubble in my chest, this
full, rich, mass of heat and light
and sadness.
People like you are scarcely
met; those as magnificent are always lined
with paralleled
passion
and pain, like an ancient painting that is
even more exquisite
from having survived its hostile history
than the beautiful image
it displays
to the world.
Why did I meet you? Because life
is not meant
to be lived in scheduled
increments, predicted and
segmented into proper slots of time.
There is value
in routine, but the moments
of true meaning
are the ones during which you derail from what is expected
and acknowledge
what is not.
You remind me
of everything that will never
make sense
but always
feels right.
Just by being you,
the savory subtleties of life
propel and pounce and land on others
like shiny eager insects,
and I love it
when they bite.

Chorus

2007-11-11T22:32:00.005-07:00

It grew with
roots and a flaking
shell
until one day
steadfast and
tall, it allowed itself
to fall.

Trimmed and sleek
it found itself
forged into
another form.

Familiar beats
from far away
linked by lines
A gentle hum
at times
fevered
fast and clutching in
that hot and
wretched
urgent grasping.

It has been
known that
from that hand on
this curve
the sweetest song
would sigh.

Tuned by gentle
unfounded friendship;
notes pure and clear
like an honest
eager bell.

In a dear and
fragile place
where noise
can only celebrate

these secrets lie
concealed

in silence.

Creases

2007-11-11T22:32:00.001-07:00

Genuinely this light pulls in the
furthest direction, to a distance
unseen; the shadows are long and
how she likes them but stepping
under each its own shape and sway
and currency she feels the air chill
a little and her skin dampens as she
reasons against it.

Crunches remind her of a newer
season and all this light retells
the stories of almost
forgotten moments now
chiseled into an embankment that breaks free
with chunks of memory only
when her waters rise
to a greater height.

It is as though
some moments now in affect
were lived in passing and folded
into squares and squares
creased forever and now
stored in
a hidden place.

If she sees your face
again in one breath she will
know your creases and
love each fleshy channel;
those canals that tore into you not
by her assistance
but corrugated over time
in her absence
through pain and shadowed secrets
and unveiled
now to every eye.

Just as here she prays palms
upward and dark
sealed eyes summon a single note that
flutters and sails the chill
without lingering with any guileful
grasp, she yearns
for the greater pardon:
you did your best.

Nothing But

2007-11-11T22:31:00.002-07:00

These children tell a
tale of timeless days that blend
seamless into one
another; a string of pain in
darkness and well lit
hunger.

An emptiness repeating in
every face and sorrow deeper than any
western sigh blackens souls young
and old, aging equally
as open hands tremble
lined with nothing
but dust.

I watched when my own height
struggled upward and my belly
brimmed; dolls and trees and laughter lit
my heart and I wondered then,
Who will ebb their aching?

Soon this flesh will clasp
my tired brothers;
these pink unused hands will feed
hold, teach, pray
flow back into their souls
a fraction of my blessings
and work through seamless days
lined with nothing
but love
and dust.

I Met You

2007-11-11T22:31:00.001-07:00

I met you
in a dream once
I showed you a portrait
of yourself and you said
we are authors of
ourselves and
coauthors of
each other
and I knew in time we would
embrace
in daylight.

When the ground is
wet and music slows to a
heartbeat
and the air
breathes soft with a
scent you yearn
to immortalize
damp tangled secrets
begin to murmur those truths
resigned to dreams
and stolen glances.

I am not yet banished
to obscurity
but that moment crawls closer
and thousands of tiny hands
have torn away my shield.

In my dream
I hold a sword;
a beacon of strength
and a staff
through the unknown.

Warm Brew

2007-11-11T22:30:00.000-07:00

Warm brew trickled
my throat as
those last
weeks my lungs filled
with old love
and stale smoke
The frost crept in
the ice
inched through
A fog cold
and calming
lifted
Through that gentle
chill beneath
I let those new
faces I had
come to love
dissolve in thin
unassuming days
begun at odd times and never
really ending
I have come to know what
boundaries are
I have seen their
blur, their
smeared crossing
We live in
rainbows
and we sleep only under
the kiss of
rain
It is
my time to
feel heat
and for the sun
to light me
A brightness sourced
from an ancestral
course