Such a lot of waiting
and really, it’s all the same;
caterpillars will morph,
moss will devour,
clouds will shimmy,
hands will let go…
there’s nothing better
than the moment
just before the unknown
unleashes itself
and we bloom or wither
accordingly.
Sea green
I knew a sea the color of the green tin roof
faded and shadowed
near the parking lot in town
and though it’s decades past,
the memory of warm sun and water
lifting my body as I floated
is fresh like this morning’s shower.
The afternoons were quiet
and nights dazzled with fire and music.
I was so young.
I don’t remember my skin before
lines and lumps but I recall a moment
of feeling my first break with reality
by choice- not the fantasy of a child.
A firm grasp of the unknown
and accepting fate while disappearing
in a pretend world,
filled with warmth where it counted.
It was a soft greenish sea
and I hadn’t faded yet.
When the rest of the world hushed
With the wind of the day
whispering away our troubles
and the sky settling
into a peaceful blue,
it was nice for a moment
in the crook of your arm.
Smoky
He has a long cool stride
and eyes like giant pools of deep space,
where stars leave smoky trails
like the mist in the hills
he brushes past
on his way to see the dragons.
He knows every dragon song
and all I’d like is to hum a bit with him
as we stroll through a widening night,
trying to avoid being burned
or falling off the edge of the planet.
I think he knows secrets, like
how hope is a myth
like an echo of a dragon song.
Swinging
Those were dancehall days,
at 2am between brick buildings
with all the light focused outward
while we hid behind clear glass.
What could they see?
Wild smiles and disheveled spirits,
thumping it up against the old desk,
knocking over the banker’s lamp
in our zeal for excess and music.
Those were days of harried flight,
the crushing weight of pain
tipping the full cup of youth
until we spilled all over the floor-
a syncopated bubbly mess.
