Category: Poetry
Art for the Sake of Life
by Josie
It’s all danger here– this you know, you feel in the tapping at your temples the throbbing in your ankles. Danger screamed in yellow exclamation marks against your brow. Yes. They say it. You say it– All danger here.
Making Sense
by Josie
How to make sense in a world neglecting crayons. I need paper please that white blank paper is vital so much is vital so much is vital so much is missing. If I cannot make sense (and I cannot buy it) then I must steal sense. Take it with my chalk hands, leave finger outlines on the black … Read More Making Sense
Creative Process
by Josie
Three cheers of a dusted dawn; electric angels sweep the streets, and light clouds skip stones against the still lavender waters of the canal. Earth sings her morning tune, low and orange against the cool palm breeze. Creation calms and tells me I must start today from the inside. No half expressions.
Investment
by Josie
Financing a mind with a paradigm; shuffling incessantly past cardboard mementos, digging for that spare cash we’ve got flapping around in the love seat. Who’s to win in this array of dissonance, this projection screen?
Skin Sounds
by Josie
Joy arrives soundless in a cool morning breeze; sunrise rattles through oak palm trees, cooing as she goes, swishing through the drooping leaves. Infinite moments heard by skin only.
Gentle
by Josie
Collapsing I tucked my head against my chest and listened to my heart beat. Strong it whispered and my ego faltered and I could hear the ego falter— and I, faltering, briefly exposed an open window to torrential rain marooned against a million chairs held up hardly at all. The trick is always to let the rain in and the carpet go.
Calling the Eagle
by Josie
What work am I called here for? Me, in fish form, scales silver against an evening sun swimming circles around my coldwater lake calling the Eagle.
But Surely
by Josie
Surely it can’t all be cast to the tan lines. The sun—our cicerone across this celestial plane, casting her silhouettes upon skin shapes etch-a-sketching that which we outfit ourselves with— Surely. That can’t be it. Because I see him
World of Plenty
by Josie
At the end of it all rests the trees. Time stands just as requested in the company of pines. My steps are holy circles, hewn deep and echoing; I listen as my ten-thousandfold world system shivers like a wheel barrow child barreling down a grassy slope, arms stowed against chest. Bullets rain dully, as dumb as porcelain and half so strong.
Hawaiian Twilight
by Josie
Mustard-patched sweat on skin damp and oily, suddenly licked wide & clear with a salty breeze. The rose blooms tonight. For my part, I shall bear witness; there is nothing quite like the blooming of a rose.
Let There Be Ease
by Josie
Mahalo, my love for your blue eyes. For the soul eyes impressed on my own when I rest & let shoulders lie easy. Let all the palm trees be breezy. Let the waves on sand shores crest.
Mountain in Glass
by Josie
I am the mountain against the shattered panes of glass; dynamic quests for focus leaving a viewer head-tilted more confused than ever. Dawn mist lit amber saffron, sweeping streaming willowing between fern slopes. Still slopes. As still as possible.
