Parable Of A Dream

pre-dawn mourning today
full-moon hiding, revealing itself
later, reds-pinks-whites-permeated-clouds
temperature is moderate for this time of year
so we have been informed—”at any rate”, as ‘they’ sometimes say,
this seems to mean something

the old evergreens love these full moons
swaying and singing their silent songs
and the littlest birds, brown in color, once they awaken,
begin singing hidden within the evergreens
they always sit up there facing eastwards towards the dawning Sun
they greet the light emerging- taking up their attention

we know how to distract ourselves from anything unpleasant
blind dance with shadowy darkness
I get tired of a fatal fascination with shade,
to be able to remember and turn towards
the light always shining, like the littlest brown birds-
light hitting those obscurations, causing the heatless shadows

it is very difficult to get over a mental gravity
the lowest plane can drag the mind,
like the evergreens powerless-
swaying passively in the cunningly constructed imaginariam
personal shadow full of what is not wanted
empty of calm awareness- hiding from restlessness

taking the other way- the gravity defying way
the higher, not to be bound to just five senses
on some one or another shadow defying plane
open to the Light, bursting boundaries of temperature
all uphill, melting mountains, climbing shadows
steps hiding, revealing like the full moon

she is the poem

I watched her there as she slept- her face on my chest.  Her mouth has the shape of gentleness… the way a tree fits into a landscape.  Sometimes, the shapes and lines of her mouth are too definite on her face- revealing stories of pain and dreams of tenderness.  And the suffering on her face is made old- as if it had been with her since dust.  The lines of suffering reveal grace and strength that shout through the wounds to land upon open hearts and hopeful ears of one who sees not scars, but beauty.  Not injury, but triumph.  Her tender features integrated in heart’s perfect wonder just as every living thing is integrated- whole, pure, wise… touched. Gentle and tender- her own language of life and truth.

Day 2 Without A Cigarette Haiku

Day 2 Without A Cigarette Haiku

do not let any

of your happiness touch me

I am allergic

The Ragged Orchids Offer Soothing Southern Invocation – Greenville indie music | Examiner.com

The Ragged Orchids Offer Soothing Southern Invocation – Greenville indie music | Examiner.com.

Thirst

I don’t have the right

to be envious of

the creeping raindrop

running down your back-

Soaking into your senses,

dissipating blissfully

in some elysian field.

Eyeballs Floating

alone in the office & have to pee haiku:

drank too much coffee

tapping foot does not relieve

bladder’s sudden urge

Saturday Night

don’t you wish you could hang with me haiku

pallet of tampons

at Costco means that I am

awesome- oh, fuck it

Office P.O.W

a cranky day on 4 hours of sleep haiku:

headache attacks in

rhythmic thumps of self loathing

fluorescent lights kill

File Under: Feeling Whore-ish Today

Published Poem in August Ed of ‘Stirring: A Literary Collection’ (co-written with Scot Siegel)

Stirring : A Literary Collection Volume 11, Edition 8 : August 2010	http://www.sundresspublications.com/stirring/
______ Submit_____ Masthead _____ Archives _____ Donate _____ Links _____ Contact _____ Sundress _____