Cave People

Tonight in my nest of stones I have not slept.
Through the walls my neighbors fight over how
best to spend their time as it silently slips through
the space between their fingers.
As the last grains fall it seems reasonable to be
present for the hours left.
When the  dawn  climbs above the ocean I can see
that deep amber on the shore,  the color of
 my lover’s eyes when  aroused,  waning to hues
of   gold that glint  in my half empty glass.
In the unkempt night I rearrange decaying books
wander halls of memories pillaging my mind.

 

 

Trinette Reed photography

the lethal dose

There are days  shadows course
through me like a breeze,
pressing deep into my life line and
the air is the scent of a stale satin pillow
where I refuse to lay my head.
I don’t fear  those intrepid ghosts,
I embrace and release them with
failed  gravity or the force that once
held the cupped hand of my lover.
The sky was alive then with every shade of
blue and the clarity of Windsor eyes
where I longed for space.
Desire is a stranger,  a lethal dose,
 encountered beneath a sacred mound.
art by Laura Makabresku

inanimate muses

With anonymous faces

you watch over my cradle,

your voice as soft as the aurora,

hair the color of a Ditch Lily

brushes against my cheek

and when I look up

my own face echoes back

at me.

My first rainbows are soaked

in your tears,

I am busy with life Mother,

its been so many years.

I am  filled with light,

is that so wrong?

 

 

google art

 

 

 

the edge of seasons

Even in death we live on

until the last breath can

no longer recall us.

Rooted in the cold ground,

ethereal,  is there a soul

beneath that cold marble?

Has time returned to the origin

before there was light?

Perpetually I come here,

through the edge of every season

beneath the purple sky

I breathe the eternity of you.

Do you ever scream  out unroll the earth,

dislodge these stones?

Do you ever feel my unfathomable

grief in your mouth.

 

Carousel

Birds soar high above the ice chiseled cliffs,  roil  over  ancient forests at the moss covered foothills of  Mountains.  I hear the voices of ancestors,  perverse whispers of hate and grudges,   they are witness to our deception. They  know the gaps in our souls are filled with the same  darkness as theirs.  When we once again come face to face  they will  tell us how the hours passed so quickly.  You are that bird whose wings beat the air senseless, rainstorm eyes protest  a dream unlived. That perfect blue honey of desire you washed away in golden brown.  Swoop down, I miss the sound of you. Tell me how to survive beginnings.   Save me from this carousel,  my arms outstretched not knowing I am still  spinning.

 

In This Dream

Between sleep and wake we

fall like stones into a silent lake

traversing birth and mortality.

Water pearls drop from  unfastened palms

tiny moons slipping through fingers.

Deeper I find you in the  iris of cat eyes,

not your spirit or rose tinged snow but

flesh and bone and sinew whose sigh is

an ancient strophe where we do not die

but flourish with the  sprouting seeds.

 

 

 

 

 

the hours

When words were your only nourishment

I fed you calla lilies budding in my throat,

the shimmering wings of a thousand bees

thrumming walls of verse.

From the stacked shelves of your smoky library

I read to you  Aristophanes,

of all poets we loved him best.

In the final hours

we longed for rippling  wheat fields,

anything windswept,

certain of life and death.

orchid petals

 

every living thing

Today I held a whippoorwill in my hand. On the wing, attracted by the sun’s rays  he flew into my window pane.  I don’t know how to save a dying bird.  I soothed his sticky feathers as  his glazed eyes fixed on a  different galaxy,  held him in my palm  until his breast bone ceased to rise and fall. I buried him in the settled shade of an ancient Ash felled by winter’s gusts.  Above his resting place the sky was as soft as my words.  Now I put it into the world as though it is my responsibility for every living creature is significant and as beautiful as the shimmering rain from a golden cloud.