Winter does not empathize
with withered branches
or displaced birds fleeing waves of
of frozen breath.
Her howling wind is a laugh out loud and
she hasn’t the grace to cover her mouth.
A tease of holly and evergreen
flicker at the curve of billowed thighs,
glistening folds of hallowed mounds
drift in other worldly sighs
ensnared in her exquisite binds.
art by Karol Bak
I can hear the chatter of anxious birds. The wind and rain have shredded their nests. A sudden flight of wings fill wispy petals of clouds passing over.
Wandering further beneath the tall pines I hear their creaking branches stretch like old bones. Needing to be heard, the brittle crunch of leaves beneath my feet make their sound.
A White tail deer watches warily from a grassy knoll, his majestic antlers in silhouette against the splintered rays of sunset. My breath is but a whisper in this sacred place that offers everything and asks for nothing.
art by Lazada Philipine
Amazing art gowns and models by Resa and a knock out torch song too, don’t miss it!
I’ll be taking a short break, meanwhile this is my winter song for you.
The sun has lost its domain
snow birds shroud its light.
A handful of starlings quiver on
bare branches so fragile in fixed feathers
they could fit in the palm of a hand.
Suspended in frozen breath they sing
for the reach of an outstretched hand
clinging to a red-tailed kite floating
above fields of wildflowers
in full bloom.
flutter from heaven
collect on tree branches
hedges and shrubs
like your kisses
soft and sensuous
they caress my cheeks
brush my lips
burst on my tongue
they blanket all
leaving the path
an untouched virgin,
of my coming
making me question
am i here
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Hold me in fleeting hours
while we are beautiful and wild
winged creatures drinking from the
night as honeysuckle
is sustained by the sun and rain.
Stay when summer departs and the
garden sips at tears pooled in
the irides of our eyes.
Lie down with me in winter when the
birds hold their song
tiny skeletons of hollow bone
indifferent to the cold.
For you my 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.
Song of seasons
“Love is a journey through waters and stars, through suffocating air, sharp tempests of grain:
Love is a war of lightning,
and two bodies ruined by a single sweetness”
Carnal Apple by Pablo Neruda
Between wake and sleep I feel the brush of your hand against my cheek as cold as winters breath. I thought I glimpsed you in lightning strokes through my window, heard your steps come and go down halls still echoing departure as night slips by like molasses, the mist of yesterday receding over the lake of time.
So that you may see what is left of me I’ve etched your eyes to mine.
Dismembered by scythes of devastation we scatter like autumn leaves.
You go where gravity pulls you, disappear through shimmering veils or wind
down my cheek like teardrops settling in the hollow of my throat, conscious
fingers of stars gliding over hoarfrost fields or weeping willows sweeping an ice capped pond.
art by Brad Kunkle