Cliff Girl

In my infinite smallness

looking out over the ocean

my limbs are albino snakes

basking in the sun and the heat

burns the soles of my feet

A treasure of pearls are strewn

like stardust on the shore

and a garland of lilac is tied

to nothing but my hand.

I am the universe lending life

to silent rock as the sun streams

down my throat where there is no voice.

The laughter of children rings

through honeyed coves where lost

lovers await the tide to

tumble them into the light.

Below my feet lies a carpet of

Jacaranda and my empty hands

carry no burden but love.

Song of Seasons

Hold me in  fleeting hours

while we are beautiful and wild

winged creatures of the night

sipping honeysuckle vines

sustained by the sun and rain.

Stay  when summer departs and

butterflies flit at teardrops pooled in

the corner of my eyes.

Lie down with me in winter when

hoar frost coats the rose buds

and  blue birds cease  their song

tiny skeletons of  hollow bone

indifferent to the cold

These lips are   petals

reminders  of lost flowers

If  you do not return

but fly on  to distant gardens

my body will seek shelter

beneath the feathers of

tongueless birds.

Translation by Bernd @ neues vom Hutschi

Halt mich fest in flüchtigen Stunden den schönen und wilden, unser Fleisch ist voll und reif, geflügelte Wesen saugen die Nacht auf, Jelängerjelieber, die von Sonne und den Regen gespeiste. Bleib, wenn der Sommer vergeht und der Garten vom Lächeln nippt, das aus der Iris deiner Augen blitzt. Lieg bei mir im Winter, wenn die Vögel zu singen einhalten, winzige Skelette aus hohlen Knochen, gleichgültig der Kälte gegenüber. Für dich sind meine Lippen Blütenblätter, süße Erinnerungen an verlorene Blumen. Wenn du nicht zurückkehrst sondern weiterfliegs, wird mein Körper Schutz suchen unter den Flügeln zungenloser Vögel. translated by Bernd Huschenreuther

art by Steve Hanks

Gold Dust

From the train window

I can see miles of Pine trees

that seem to go on forever.

There’s a golden wolf howling

at the moon

chanting to the midnight Gods.

By morning Pine trees give way to

Palms and screeching Cicadas.

Tonight the moon reveals the belly of

the world  from which we all come.

All that I have left is a photograph.  

Tell me night-time dreamer why you

hold so many secrets in your heart.

When I look into your  eyes

all I  see is star dust.

The Riches

From the window

as quiet as  as a river I can watch

the moon shiver in the breeze

through the fronds of palm trees.

Hibiscus wave like  children

their mouths move  silently,

hands of garland reach out to

one another.

I am grateful for the sweet

drape of your eyes that like

fluttering wings of birds lift

the shawl of darkness where in

the light  prismatic butterflies

breach their  chrysalis and

vanish in the arching sky.

These are the riches

the golden sunlight passing through us.

God Spun

I am a constellation
pasted to a smear of deep sky or
some god spun leaf drifting
a wintry blue pond or a

flame living in fire.
My tongue turns silvery around
my words, do not take them
for sorrow I have named them
peace.

Do not forget me.
I still need you to carry me
over the pierce of thorns for
My hands are good for nothing

but a plea do not forget me
I am still here my hair a tangle
of stars.

Love, sweet love!

Resa and Norm

Recently I came across a photograph of our lovely Fashionista, Resa McConaghy, and her beloved Norm.

Norman is a GUITAR PLAYER & COMPOSER. They lived in Miami for almost a year in the 80’s. Norman was working on writing songs and had an arrangement with a recording studio there. They lived in an amazing older home on Miami Beach. It was quite grand with a Florida Room and a maid’s apartment along the side. Per Resa, The original owners must of had a fab life there. They were renting it from an Argentine businessman who had bought it.
When they returned with Norm’s songs it led to a record deal in the 1990’s.

Norman at work!

Love is What is Needed

by Holly Rene Hunter

Here in paradise

the sun goes down on the

crescent shore of an empty beach

she found herself with a guitar man

and A life time of memories

It seemed so clear then and now

love is what is needed

Like a Butterfly

A heart can fall like a suicide 
descending shades of midnight
frozen blossoms on an icy lake
a silent  breeze of despair

Let my tongue flirt like 
a butterfly among  
wildflowers
 rather than polish old scars 
de-bride painful wounds 

Of Liebe and Krieg

Your winter coat lies where we once lay on the bed of a decaying forest
the silence is as hard as pounding hooves or soft as the moon rising
in your kingdom of stars.

Gurkski’s ” Il me faut t’abandonne”

“Come dusk is when my mind walks out

from where I fence myself in,

my dark room of nightly delights where

I encounter her, my queen of all things blue

and we fight right from the start

To make me love her even more.

I place the hands of my heart to gather

my hunting spirit, follow her footprints

into our forests of love and war.”

( excerpt)

Von Liebe und Krieg — Of love and war
Translation to German by Bernd @ Neues Vom Hutschi

NICHT BEREIT DAFÜR REISE ICH,
UM ZU ÜBERLEBEN,
DURCH ERINNERUNGEN, DIE SICH EINFINDEN,
OHNE EINKLANG.
DA LIEGT DEIN WINTERMANTEL,
WO EINST UNSERE RÜCKEN WAREN,
HALB BEGRABEN IM FALLENDEN SCHNEE,
JETZT VERROTTEN SIE ZWISCHEN ZAPFEN UND NADELN.
DER WALDBODEN RIECHT NACH BRENNENDER KIEFER
UND STILLE IST WIE DER KLANG STAMPFENDER
HUFE ODER SANFT WIE DER ZUNEHMENDE MOND
IN DEINEM REICH DER STERNE.
AUSZUG AUS GURKSKIS „IL ME FAUT T’ABANDONNE“
„KOMM, DÄMMERUNG IST, WENN MEINE GEDANKEN FORTWANDERN,
VON DA, WO ICH MICH EINZÄUNE,
MEIN DUNKLER RAUM NÄCHTLICHER FREUDEN, WO
ICH IHR BEGEGNE, MEINER KÖNIGIN ALLER BLAUEN DINGE,
UND WIR KÄMPFEN VON ANBEGINN,
DASS ICH SIE NOCH MEHR LIEBE.
ICH NEHME DIE HÄNDE MEINES HERZENS
EINZUFANGEN MEIN JAGENDES WESEN, FOLGE IHREN SPUREN
IN UNSERE WÄLDER AUS LIEBE UND KRIEG.“

milieu

You want her to be real
A half smile curve of lips
a glide of a hand through hair
You want to be her clothes
falling as she unfolds to the
sound of heels on a marble floor
her feet have formed the shape of her
shoes and when she arches her back
she soars as high as imagined
wings can fly.

art by Luigi Quarti “fallen angel”

Storms

I am touched
by a storm
the tongue of a
fire that burns
away sleep.
A tide crashing
into millions of
crystal droplets
becoming the sun.
My heart is ripe
like summer fruit
sweet juices flushing
tingling veins.
There is a storm circling
the pit of my stomach rising
to ache in my throat.

Steve Hanks art