I climbed upon your back so bare
To breathe, inhale, a purer air.
Here I gasped with jubilent glee
Worshiping in holy ceremony.
You were not as you’ve been before,
Coming to me as if from yore,
We met and clasped and built upon;
Here we made our own love song.
Tag: air
Romantic Hairs (day 1172)
Like your romantic eyes
My mischievous smile left traces
Along your hips and knees and
Twists of air circling about
Thousands of your dangling hairs
Vacant and Absent (day 1047)
Where you bled upon my bed,
I cut out and left to air.
Which I did not care!
No, I did not care.
Into the furthest mirror I did look
To find no other but reflection,
Which mattered to me because
I built the house upon flattery.
I’m perfection left uncovered,
Laid down without much affection.
Broken by a snake
And the absense of power.
Current’s Edge (day 990)
I walk my freedom with long bold steps
– Passionate about underlying rocks,
Saturated in air; fluid, full, exhilarating –
To my captures edge: sin and sorrow.
“DEFINE MY PATH!” From the tops of my lungs,
Knocking at doors of suffering madness
That tied these knots upon my bare feet.
It’s a long walk along hurt’s path,
A long breath to hold, withdraw,
With destiny, located amidst rubble.
It’s a long walk to freedom,
Blistering sores and stained reason.
Along my gall’s edge I protest,
Along gall’s edge I step,
And in this path I do not quiver,
I do not shake with torrent sadness,
For to my edge [my sin and sorrow],
I stare with will, my choice and I,
Into the void, my current’s capture,
And let flow from the tops of my lungs.
Night’s Delicate Dance (day 976)
Maybe we balanced our cross-hairs when we sent our whispers into night’s air.
A long, hollow howl,
A song to our own dainty ears,
Wishing for night to tarry while bringing us sleep
Footsteps reaching horizons edge, so evenly spaced so late in the day.
How did we manage,
How many words were pure thoughts,
Lingering ’bout our hesitant breaths like foxglove in the summer.
My moon silhouetted your name-sake tree, standing afar tall and proud.
Bloodline crawls down stony steps to waters edge,
Breaking off into still, deep black abyss
Waiting to find another whisper.
Decisions (day 947)
Face to face with myself
And not a shout to match my anger
Gross exaggeration of ignorant ideals
Spun into webs amongst my dizzy spins
To catch me when I fall down
Strangely grasping, gasping for air
Leaning out the window at
Ninety miles and hour where
Oppression isn’t meaningless
Sunken windows blow over the moonlight
As my smile begins to fade, enrage
Standing at my post
Face to face with myself
Dropped from a Thorn (day 941)
How do you love without losing
Without spreading open hearts and tears
Like eyes closing, it’s ending in silence
And personal crushing sinks in
But I, the monster, sinking it in
Scream out like bats whipping through night air
A full moon lurks beyond vision
Unknown and omnipresent; thoughts and sight
Writing my love letters
With blood dropped from a thorn
Splattering into a vial
Collected for these poems
I do not remember or recall
Or recede into a sheltered abyss
I do not wash my skin clean
But I am purity, spread open and sheen
In My Tired Eyes (day 914)
A silent film that flutters through my heart
Snowing – on the frozen grounds
Waking to see my breath hovering in the air
These days I’m cold
Huddling in my layers
Overwhelmed and shaking
But my patience says to love
To relax into thy strength
And take necessary steps
Flickers spin backwards in my tired eyes
Blood returns to simmer
Where my steps return to grace I once had
Frosty Morning Saunter (day 891)
A motionless saunter through the cold grass leaving footsteps every bloody place that I go and picking up my feet without tying up the laces because the gloves on my hands are too warm and the air is too cold but the path ahead is shaking and quivering in unrelenting uncontrolled mastery non-mastery in spite my insistence on leaving my hands out of their pockets to fight this urge to cower and shelter from the brutal elements hoping to bridge the gap between strength and toughness without too many frost bites but this is ok because I read about it in a book that told me I should and it told me it’s valiant and it told me I can walk on coals with bare feet too because the skin between my toes is too soft and could use a good toughen up but oh my look at that large dog walking down the now covered in leaves path about to jump up on me because I treat it like a human being and acknowledge it’s existence for who in their right mind wouldn’t want to jump up on me with such an acknowledgement but you know the dog is so friggen big it’s like a young man feeding must be expensive is all I can think as my steps trace up the frozen tarmac slipping on the thin layer of ice hardly visible and highly wavering but all is good because I’m about to peak this crest and stand for a moment on the highest point and survey my kingdom for it is my kingdom for it is my kingdom for it is my kingdom that I survey due to my commitment to walk the coldest slippery path in all the woods in the mornings before the dusk has settled in and after all of the leaves have come flying down to the maker of their fate named gravity and decay and decomposition and footsteps along the singletrack path between the naked branches of thinner than I thought birch trees awaiting the bounty of springs sunshine because I’m not ready to give up on the year yet I’ve got plans to formulate and materialize and time to waste and sleep to never catch up on and a nice warm cup of coffee around noon because I’ve begun to let down my guard for certain things as I raise my guard for garbage and consumption and waste and destruction of our land this land my land my kingdom I saunter through on this cold frosty morning good morning world good morning world good morning world get up and go now take it off.
Collar (day 844)
Loosening my collar as I walk up to the spotlight
Hushed vibrations filter through my being
I take a slow breath and look around at expecting faces
Their nervous teeth chattering back at me
Catching my gaze one by one like capital letters
Each their own little religious Icon in my speechless air
Hanging as if suspended in Grandma’s hallway
Forgiveness setting me free while I exhale my contempt
That piece of me that eats away at my conscience
Making me the miscarriage, the flaw
Do you know where I came from today?
I shiver at the thought that even just one of you
Had watched me as I sat shaking in the back corner
Down in dusty nether regions of Carrall and Hastings
My glance glittering like mother’s shiny silverware
My coffee sitting idle: half full – I’m an optimist
Huddled over pages of pages I’ve worked hard at keeping un-wrinkled
Unsuccessfully
Glancing over words that mean little to me now
Figuring every vowel is missing diaeresis
And scribbling on napkins to avoid appearing unorganized
As I spill out my verbatim…
Loosening my collar
Unbuttoning my top button and juggling the microphone
Sinking into a low growl that catches their attention
Chocolatey smooth I say, a lover’s dream
A paradise of low frequencies that shift tailbones
Reckoning based on incalculable numbers
Train station brown brick and mortar stares back at me
From behind the crucifixions waiting nervously
For a brief moment dust settles
Literally, the sun-lit dust beams get lost
In a sea of hovering beer mugs and uneven chairs
Don’t worry. Don’t get nervous sitting there
Reading between the lines and expecting fears
This isn’t a bad ending to a dull day
This is just a well mannered man dressed to satisfy
Piqued desires of the elegant class one starched collar at a time
Unfolded liner notes with immaculate white spaces
This is a jaunt down Water Street with a Hastings attitude
This is a spitting collar loosened