Winter Song

The sun has lost its domain

snow birds shroud the 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 snowy fields of  wildflowers in full bloom.

The Lighthouse

I am a lone bird wheeling jagged edges

of ancient cliffs above the shallows

of a rough Dover sea.

My  feathers gleam in the beam of

the lighthouse where gentle swells

pulse against rocky shores  

where in dreams you held me tenderly like 

treasured pearls.

I have abandoned the lighthouse

that seems to lean closer to the sea

waiting in vain at the tide swept shore.

The beam has ceased its search

still each time I pass I  tip my  wing.

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unfolding

You have left your

finger prints on my soul

for you I would journey

to that place that haunts me

between midnight and dawn

where we are imperfect

in those unseen dreams

where the only sound is the

unfolding of Origami swans

a disassembling of tenderness

where I capture what

I cannot keep

Wonderful illusion painting by Karol Bak - Ego - AlterEgo

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.

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The Hour Glass

Dip your fingers in oceans of light

tiny moons in outstretched hands

a remembrance of our open palms

sifting through transparent time

powerless to reverse the hours

Nendo's out of the box hourglasses explore time passing

Neruda’s “Ode To Time” (excerpt)

My eyes have burned out in your beauty

but you are my eyes.

I perhaps exhausted your breasts

beneath my kisses but the world knows

your secret splendor is my happiness.

Love, what does it matter that time,

the very time that raised two flames,

two waving heads of wheat,

my body and your gentleness,

tomorrow will hold them safe

A Winged Bird

I am who I have always been
a shiver of soft reeds beside the river
or the cascade of  a waterfall.
Gypsy crows rise  to a soft dawn sky
gathering their kind they circle
back for me.

I can scarcely bear the

splendor of the world,

its wonder humbles

the wisp  that is me.

Minutiae of eyes and ears

and speechless tongue,

stunned by the promise

of a  red dawn.

Elegant trees  lift

their mighty arms,

grand  gods host creatures

large and small.

Their noble crowns filled

with a cornucopia of life.

I want to sail across the sea
tiny fleck that is me,
a winged bird   bearer of
no possession,
a fragment of the universe

art by Amy Judd (represented by Hicks Gallery)

sun and moon

Your lips against my skin

make my bones smolder.

You are subtle like the imprints

of fingertips pressed along

my thighs, dissolving into

one another.

Can you read my life with

my heart beat in your palm

with Scorpio eyes recycled

like the mist of morning rain.

we are sun and moon falling

can love survive us?

art by William Oxer

Incantations

When all that I want is so far away
and all that is left is solitude,
I chant your name through warm
currents of breath or sharp ice
shadows of entities.
I’ve etched my likeness into the stars
a dreamer in fields of flowers
a bouquet of affection fragile jonquils
pressed against a heart.
Tethered to cloud banks of silvery sleep
we meet in fantasies and the
sweetness of a lover’s suffering.

To Get To You

In this dream my arms
are the branches of trees
and you are my nourishment.
Cut me down to a boat.
My spine is a sturdy keel
my hair a furl of sails in

the dark sky of uncertainty.

A lighthouse is my only lamp
the stars held captive in your hand.
If the sea does not capitulate
red sails cast into a cleft
too wide for me to cross,
I was trying to get to you.

Art from Getty