This body, a river splitting deep woods,a rushing babble over rounded pebbles.The doe lowering her head, takes drink,arching sinuous neck that reflects in ripple water.That neck in memory, fevered dreams -arching back and forth, hair whipping.Your knees bent alongside rising hips,this river splitting your fragrant wood.
Category: poetry
White Heron
Sinuous, curving neck, full breast, long legs reach into the harbor's edge Obsidian eyes bottomless, a tunnel without end Seeking Along rocky shore, slow filling harbor a mirror capturing grace, clouds doubled, scudding across a fecund sea You strike, down, mouth agape, gasping, rippling the mirror, body shooting forward, head buried in sea and sky … Continue reading White Heron
On Ragged Mountain
There's a luxury - a pleasure really, it's that more not like the joy of an avocado (not to dismiss that joy, sliding along the skin, opening the ripe fruit to eager hands, fingers sliding into flesh to scoop and taste and slip along the tongue) No, not that but the ecstasy of the familiar, … Continue reading On Ragged Mountain
The Answer
There was a wind winding down from star to sea, whipping along eastern ranges, whispering strange words in accented syllables, a Romanian Shakespearean rag, sometimes humming something from The Weekend. Sometimes a muse must be answered. There were scrubs worn in the imaging room, fancy dress for after, the hint of musk on curving neck … Continue reading The Answer
Wrapping Backwards
Something about losing small pieces - an errant tooth, the color in my hair, the smell of autumn as father held my hand, fading vision / a kidney butchered under failing hands, and time a butterfly flapping backward through time, wrapping itself in strands fading memories wandering banter stolen kisses amongst the shrubbery, the illicit … Continue reading Wrapping Backwards
Burning Autumn
In the autumn, with leaves burning, safety as children running embers floating in the air. And I am burning leaves again. The tulips i pulled from your garden how you say me hiding, behind our pine. Eyes wide. Knowing that you were one person. And about to become another. How. You. Yelled. And how it … Continue reading Burning Autumn
When We are brave
When we are brave enough we are not present we are simply in a wrong moment Between key strokes and dramatic elipsing lays our raging moments, against the dying of the light And we feed our platform as it feeds on us, our bravery (our sex) is stroking keys and raging at random moments
Heisenberg’s Waiting Room
There are moments when you are alone in a place of human geography peopled with many strangers, and every one of them - looking at you in side glances - knows you and your heart And there is no water, Just this folding weight that crushes you into a small point. And this universe spinning … Continue reading Heisenberg’s Waiting Room
Dominion
I held your hand as you sighed, chest heaving caving and rising, that old cadence, that old chestnut rag. "God is a bastard, a true SOB," I told you, patting at the sweat breaking beads on your brow. "Your mother won't tell me about it, because vows and such." But I can see it, in the … Continue reading Dominion
Intelligentsia S&M
"It makes my panties wet, When you get literary like that" So I locked eyes with her, And out rolled... "Proust"
