From this Ledge (day 1000)

From this ledge I looked out beyond,
I surveyed the stillness.
Un-avoiding brief glimpses
Of society’s marks;
Transport trucks rumbling
In and out of earshot.

From this ledge I held onto a hand,
I held on so tight to remind me
That in spite surmountable distances,
In spite out-of-control conveniences
I wasn’t alone here;
Alone in my thoughts.
This wasn’t my diary,
This was my acceptance refusal.

From this ledge I plotted.
I took every hemlock and spruce
Inside my heart and nurtured their spirit
To grow with me as I carved my initials
Into their supple skin, raw so real;
Nature entwined my soul and became me
And I became it.
And I lept from this ledge with eyes wide open.

StawamusChief-2011-06-04 (149 of 310)

Bare Hands (day 998)

When my sun rises over East
I sit at my bench and wait
And whisper to my gods in prayer
To bring me all their rain
So that I can find the strength
To hold my head high again
And if my bare hands I shake
That worked the earth for seven long days
Should hold in them a crying shame
Then it shall be for me, forever rain
To wipe away these falling tears
Before my sun sets again
From my bench I sit and wait

Fell (day 997)

You know I had a chance
When our eyes first had a glance
Struggling with the beat
Then you fell over me
Shifty little feet
And you fell over me
Giving me a chance
When you fell over me

It was gambling, a chance
To look you in the eye
A pure innocence, nestled deep
Then you fell over me
Exchanging numbers in the street
And you fell over me
Giving me a chance
When you fell over me

And when I leaned in for a kiss
You closed your eyes and leaned
Not an ounce of soul held back
Then you fell over me
Never anything but sweet
And you fell over me
Giving me a chance
When you fell over me

Love Isn’t Four Letters (day 996)

Love isn’t four letters
Love doesn’t crawl up on hands and knees in chocolate
Love doesn’t smell like roses
Love doesn’t have a long lineup at the checkout
Love isn’t singular
Love isn’t fleeting

Love wakes up every day and sleeps with the moon
Love is expression
Love is happy even when there is no love
Love is a sparkle in the eyes
Love is a name about ones tongue
Love is a feeling

Dram of Poison (day 994)

A needle digs deeper guiding the well worn thimble on
Scaring dogs, singing and howling like Big Momma John
Like she’s snaking about a pale spotlight covered in sequins
Singing the whole time about a blue moon kissing her empty bottle
And filling each patron of the evening with wonderment

A quiet lady, sitting idle at the bar dressed only in pink
Clinks cold bricks slowly about the smoothed edges of her glass
Pulling at her soul for every single bit of truth she has
With high hopes that this very night will reveal all that could ever be
And harness her abandon like the piano pullin’ Big Momma John in

A mood envelops the patrons, sensually gliding from table to table
Touching far reaching itches only elation and jubilation can satisfy
Like the silver lining on a red velvet goblet
Deadly for all those unaccustomed to these desires
And final, like large Gothic keys hung around the undertakers neck