Thursday, August 16, 2007

When we no longer wake

 When we no longer wake


And when we no longer wake to share the rise of dawn

when home is the last place we want to be

when we become the reason we can’t

a fleeting thought

 

let us walk away - hearts intact

allow it time to heal

remember the friends we were

cherish the passion we learned

 

when eyes no longer linger on the contour of our lips

and they no longer languish for a kiss

when we neglect a touch

before we drown in silence

 

let us walk away - trust intact

allow it time to breathe

love never dies of natural cause

always homicide.


Friday, June 15, 2007

The flight of laughter

 

The flight of laughter

 

Standing at the bedroom window

the weather is warm and inviting

to the laughter of the neighborhood

children riding bikes down the hill

and back again.

 

I could fly with the laughter

feel free ,feel light, be safe.

I could but for the thousand

reasons huddled in my gut

scurrying their unclean legs

skittering, skittering

 

Tethered to the earth

the hard brown winter ground

confused by the warmth

and the sun

and the bikes riding along

the edges of forced spring.

 

I want to fly with the songbirds

through the boughs of pine

tangles of wire

Above the roofs

beyond the mountains

To the life

To the life

Where I am no longer

bound by the obligation

of being me.

 

15 January 2007

Sunday, January 21, 2007

étude

étude 

music plays

through the hours.

I dance

the grasping cadence

until my hips mold each note

with sharp, controlled, movement.

 

euphoric

from dreamless nights,

I rotate

the knob of volume

until the room vibrates

with the deep, plunging bass.

 

provoking

a slow calculated beat,

I begin

the slight swing of hips

until it entices me,

with slowly parting knees.

 

breathing

through tangled tempos

I trace

the arch of my hips…

the bow of my waist…

the bloom of my breast…

the curve of my neck…

until my arms lift through the air

with translucent wings.

 

feeling

the profound timbre

of my own private euphony

until I reach

the carnivorous

recesses of desire.