Archives for the month of: April, 2010

spring's finest

To this endless want
Rest, child.


You’re being ridiculous.

To the toughness I create that saws against the kindnesses of the day
Melt, child.

To the lies that pour forth from my lips when I am not looking
Breathe, child.

To thy heart that holds what is beautiful and crumbled in sorrow
Rest, child.

Today has come and done what it needed to do
Tomorrow you will start again.


I wish I knew how to need you.
I wish I knew how to bleed you
instead of this moonshine.

Red as my love; wet and urgent.
Emerge from my womb; a cocoon;
this loneliness tomb.

See me in the rapture.
Barefoot goddess
braiding time into your beard
as you kiss my lips, part the ocean.
Ambrosia, my love.

on the edge

You never question my heart, do you?

Take me for what I am, in this moment,
in the next.  I have fallen at your knees, blessed the green path
tread beneath your darling toes
and the softness of your caress, is that all?

Have you heard me cry in the night?
Howling at the ivory moon perched above the sill, resting
heavy on my conscience, she begs me, can you risk it,
dear owl-child, break the glass casing your heart holds still within
patient for the emergency that love becomes?

And suddenly I have no more questions,
answers only,
I reply,


He might hate it
but for the rusty nailed matriarchs of the land
and the howling wind.

And though I feel sideways to the flow of the river,
the highways, the culture’s stream, there are moments
where all that falls gently silent.

A deep belonging rises from the soil and dries the sweat
that built this town first,
and rebuilds it over and over again.

My connection to the land overrules my love of leaving.