The Shiraz Tree

A wind blows cold kisses

all over the place

fools littered leaves

swinging with sun

the wine dark tree

leaves that plum maroon

are over-hung ultra-violet

sweet leather with a hint of oak

dark cherry deepening to finish

in the sky

where tastebuds are lost

against the wind’s

own dry tongue-kiss

branching up beyond

the senses rolling up these

solid expectations for

the tinge of green

into the velvet sweet and heady.

 

 

 

Absence (final NaPoWriMo poem 2014)

There’s been too much exiting

too many absences

the summer’s flutter

tinkles of heat those

sighing nights so full of

sinking stars, gone.

 

There has been leave-taking

those collapsing far-away

heat encrusted suns

that spatter the night

fall and implode

flowers of fusion

 

wrinkle and die

crumple and fade

from yellow and blue

to lack of light, blank so deep

that they are nothing

no smoke, no dust

just absence,

 

like now.

 

 

 

 

 

Dust

granulates

the attrition

the fine dust of loss

along the window ledges

that are my eyes

 

what if looking out

enough through them

would make them hollow

and cause collapse?

the dry eye of the weary

 

the salt eye of the lost

capitulating

in rain that air turned liquid

that falling wet of relief

how it moves

and downward

 

washing wishes

to their threadbare vanishing

because looking through

you become blind

and blinded by that crust of

fear that was the wearing down of time.

Dog II

The river has a hollow in it

where you would have fitted

four footed leap plunge

the spring of you

the coil of that pulsing good-will body

full of joy’s vibrations

intent on the moment

as if every passing one was a smell too rich

not to contemplate

the airborne seconds

the water’s thick arms all over your fur

and how you threw it back

off your coat when it let you go.

 

Sometimes you shadow me

are so close - those times we nosed

one after the other

over the sand sky water

the sweep of your tail an extension of my arm

you a blur in my eyeline

a flash of brightness shimmering

or sleeping all purry soft

the grass smell of your paw pads

the easy heave of your breath.

 

River

Sniffs its way to the low point rockfall

sleek and tingling black with silver highlights

thread and scent and earthturn, log tossing, bending, fishtug

fills the day with rush the night with runnels

finds the interesting depth and stays there

mulling, turning, breeding

insisting on life and nurturing the algae the dragonfly pupa

washing the rocks until they ripple themselves

becoming and becoming.

Fire

The staccato spark

light worms the darkness

stripes of fire-drops

cascade of gold dribbles

matching the sunset.

 

The eye does duplicate

two for the sweep of one

the air filters and stings of smoke

peppers with glitter

the combustion of tree crusts.

 

We whoop to the night

with our glowing sticks

black and torching

making twirls and spirals

on the retina of the sky.