My revolution has taken its toll
On jagged edges of my soul;
I’ve dawned gloves,
Sawn carefully,
Yet each gold line
I’ve carefully drawn out
– Tracing a route
For my skilled cut –
Has left an array
Of scraps and debris
That keeps slicing
Each fiber I live by,
So that each step I take
A trail of blood
Follows me
Ending at this precipice
My revolution has brought me to.
Tag: glove
Difference (day 3197)
Land wore gloves
For the first time
And didn’t fit right
There was no breath
No inhale
Just exhale and sweat.
A pause broke the noise
So softly
As the butterfly
Inaudibly
Sat down to rest.
Awoken (day 2999)
So I loved a merriment
Sought it in my deepest hour
Closed my eyes and remembered
Caught a glimpse and surrendered.
I awoke in sentiment
Blown away by agreement
Sent away by angelic amusement
Giving the sense of bewilderment
And a condition to be wary of,
For the glow was everywhere;
To be accounted for,
Had never been amassed
Passing off for a widening yield
And remembering to wear
The glove that awoke me.
My Salt (day 2911)
My salt has worn off by the tongue of your frequent lick
Pressed against my open window
I have cleaned my worn out gloves
Taken my inner barrier
And longed for another song
To take me half way to there
So I could spend my time alone
Preparing for your energy
Like I would a Mountain Lion come to feast.
Everglow (day 2547)
I woke into the everglow
Afternoon of an eclipse moon
Sitting by myself I was
Lost and transient
I thought of the tide
Could you take away my glow
Every night I sit upon
Your cleansing salty row
I thought of my sacred moon
Rising in the Pacific Sea
With every breath I take
Bamboo cracks awake in me
I thought of the time it took
To walk my trail I’ve come
I landed here in spite my past
Though rich it let me run
I thought of how long it’s been
That I’ve been dreaming of
Now that I am here dug in
I’ve no more an empty glove
Tramp in a White Dress (day 2135)
I’m a tramp in a white dress
Lost in a blizzard
My gloves both have big holes
And my glass is half full
Because it’s alright
To go it alone
When the river runs wild
From the abyss of a true soul.
Dusk in the Valley (day 1710)
Night falls in quietening circles
Swiftly crawling away in crackles,
And my footsteps leave traces for
Two days more
Until it thaws.
Just as Helios had mounted high
Upon our valleys Eastern slope,
He chased birds as frost’s glove
About, appalled,
Distraught.
So now we wait as new circles retreat
Into twilight’s thin air,
Blues to blacks
And a star lit map
Guides us forever home.
Tibetan Orbs (day 955)
While straddling my time between Christ the sugar bowl and Don, the rather small teapot
I kissed the roasting bacon nuzzling up against my clothes, a warm glove
“Ouch” said the lonely spot of a remnant hot plate as I smooth talked her into a gentle coo
From here, I could almost hear the other patrons, busily slurping their medium roast over
Minding the color swirls developing in their half and half and brew mix; mind the honey, sugar
I twisted wildly to see a maiden, one of fairer skin and lovelier smile than this twirling vinyl chair I’d been making eyes at
I couldn’t quite understand her stuffed down puff jacket obstructing her twisted cursive
As she coiled and rounded the blue ball point pen about the pages of her soft red scribbler
But my eyes were taken by her small Tibetan orbs delicately dangling from her lobes
I wondered how far she had come today, and if it meant to her as much as it meant to me
That she was also sitting by her lonesome, like I was, at a buck fifty diner, romancing wildly with Christ the sugar bowl and Don, the rather small teapot