Category: Nature

Adding What I Find

  When I signed up for this, I was told it was my soul on the line; that to do nothing was as good as having nothing to do: and that was unfathomable.

Dissonance

  Warm summer eases against my skin, a kitten, pawing for affection, pawing for attention—the grass beside me is envelope haven and the wind, which raises my hair in caress, is a friend, it sings, only ever friend. But I find myself resolute: tight-lipped arms-crossed brow-fixed sat, shiftless, in the midst of murk determined, sort of, to sift through the mist but not sure … Read More Dissonance

The Vagabond Muse

  This is what I talk about when I talk about the wandering vagabond muse: truly truly the difference between “getting” and going that of “seeming” and being that between “rare” and raw. The wanderer, alit with the muse of equitable bliss rarely gets anywhere. Instead opts for the slow methodical languid locomotion of going. Going where? Going here. Perchance there. Going anywhere, and … Read More The Vagabond Muse

Under a Tree (in the Rain)

  If you could see, right now, this piece of notebook paper upon which I write, you would know practically the whole story. The ink smudge bullet holes would be enough and you, in your intelligence, wouldn’t need the sight of my speckling jeans to know that, now: it’s raining.

We, Like Water

  We, like water, like water under a cloud sky, so evenly lit, illuminate— our flow, our companionship immeasurable pleasing intersections we just as soon leave but recall.

Gazing

  Tiny tricks of vintage blues I tear the streetlamp from the roots and gesture upwards, past my brow to skies unlit by fire towers. Trigger tails of unmatched hue I sit in silence open mouthed as mesmerized by ticking time as tree leaf branches’ ending chime.

Poetry in the Rough

  Brazen chipped callous lines side of left toe, stretches, white, as I stretch wide— toe pockets marked with shadows echo tide pools and wave drops pitter sand from the mat of the car. Chalk elbows graze along the grey window sill, dragging slip lines of dust mites bits of me I haven’t missed.

The Sands Tell Tales

  The sands tell tales of arduous tracks of long, lumbering earthy strides; there are those before me who have pressed the sand with leaden burdens and dragging hearts, the prints of souls unsatisfied. Then there are

Shell Theory

  My praise is but the catacombs of waves the stuff of ant children and young sunflowers. Waves speak quieter than I, and go much further. I wave, the whole earth grows— how my arrogance is so!

Celestial Gala

  Cosmic harmony dances upon toes, & the sun which sweeps arm hairs to spring bouquet, (so fit for a gala) keeps time.

+

A Case for Willfulness

The sea— at the lip of which I sink, slow silly my toes in sucking black sand perch the heavy surf swell tunneling past my ankles –still hasn’t made up its mind.

+

Black Bird

  The black bird on a black tree sprouting black leaves whistles at me; me, in my blended sweater wooden bench my skin dipped caramel and the glint of inside lamplight against my watch face.