By your armor, I’m taken, wondering:
your eyes gleaming, unmasked,
your body dancing, unencumbered
and light.
{ your sword nicked my knee;
the spilling of blood
grants me brethren see
— and thou still war?
Oh, go wounded and stay wounded
wherefore I, bad in war and in peace,
may nurse you. }
Category: Poems
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Glimpses
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You loosen my strings. You unravel each one. You remove them from the frets. I suppose I'm done playing, now. Then, you return. You bring back to me my music: fit as a fiddle — and strum.
Muse
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My heart sits atop anvil, in furnace, eager for the hammer to bend down and squash it repeatedly, for its tendrils to grab hold and embrace hammer and anvil into one amorphous pounding.
Beat My Heart
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I know I may only drive one at a time. Oh, dear, you’ve started all 10 of my automobiles.
Jump Start
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I’ve tucked my worries into bed — their toddler eyelids chasing night visions — tucked in, with folded blankets, creased both cat and mouse; I’ve blown out the candles as, with silent footfall, I hushed each room and let moonlight in. I’ve folded the blankets over my chest, thanked each cricket in their lullaby chorus, thanked each star in its twinkling. I’m not the first to breathe in thankfulness.
Heliotrope
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Oh, ants: neighbors, not pests — my heart in cubes for serving — you get one.
Tithe
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It’s hard to catch the vast world’s tune; it goes on so long: it’s surprising when it begins to repeat to know it well enough to like it. Then, there’s the instrument I’m stuck with, embarrassing for its narrow applicability. Oh, well; here goes — and I blow or strike or strum or sing and accentuate the melody or compensate with harmony or engage in counterpoint or remain silent, waiting for a dramatic crash of symbols or discharge of canon and, at some point, appropriately — artfully add to life’s symphony.Again with the music
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Your wisp of smile: a wisdom of roses. Let me tell you: I kiss each one. Tell me: how many?
Petals
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Say it. Say it: it’s unfair that they sing while you have no song. No. Sing it. Sing it!
This Can’t Be Right
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Metallic nails with flecks of green, metallic eyes pierce me, crystallize my insides, and — ping–pong–ping — your light reflects through me. Then the warmth dissolving my chest until — what’s this? — flowers pouring out onto my embrace until through my arms they burst and a river of flowers floods over my dam hands.
Incidental Scratches
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