The mirror lies today. No child
looks back in innocence except
with the eyes, the same startled ocean green,
those changing moods.
Today, the tide rushed in and
I thought I was in my Easter outfit
sewn by my grandmother,
pink and white striped cotton with white frills
of lace, gathered waist, bunny buttons;
the hat a woven bonnet
with acrylic daisies.
Such
a happy child, buoyed in the world,
treasured starfish.
I see her image dissolve into the pool,
waves loosening at my feet.
Without Persona Monday, Jul 28 2008
Poetry 4:19 pm
Husk Monday, Jul 28 2008
Poetry 4:17 pm
In time, the wind pulls seeds from the husk
at will, by season’s determination.
Nothing stops this, not all the wishes
in the world.
I slip out on the wire of air,
An acrobat in my own invisible life,
One foot upon what’s known, one foot lifted
on the hidden path of desire.
What drives such performance is a mystery,
resists even the hardest resolutions
not to fall.
The inevitable descent,
gravity
plunges a seed to unpredictable landing, into sand
or rich soil, to a foreign field, the debris of rebirth.
Unlike You Thursday, Jul 17 2008
Poetry 5:05 am
Your ducks in a row, your fields plowed,
your dishes washed, meals on a plate, geraniums that bloom –
such a sane a nest. So wise a decision.
In such a world, heads and lives blown apart,
sacks of flour and gourds of water a nurturing gold,
your geraniums bloom bloodred and sunburned pink,
so beautiful; silent to envy and longing
the threat that all will be taken away.
In this one life we awaken to, keep your eyes
open. Be gentle with those geraniums, add
a creamy peacewhite bloom, a hopeful peach,
a prayer of water.
saturn’s disguise Monday, Jul 7 2008
Poetry 12:17 am
If Saturn’s rings were gold I’d wear them
round my neck and ascend to ice,
My eyes can touch her through the speed of light.
She is the beacon, illusory and pragmatic.
Who rides those rings? I have, in a dream,
the same dream I witnessed Pluto shed himself
of identity and Chiron find his place.
I’d wear those rings of golden ice,
buried in her heavy mottled cloak – it’s
Saturn’s price to orbit her voluptuous body.
There’s sanity in not wanting to be bound to Earth,
its lack of sheen, its distant blue forever.
