Forest

Panes I watch his reflection In layers of glass Shifting, leaving In panes of glass Slicing pains Night comes and reflections darken Spinning spinning dance Holding on tight to soft old hands Veiny with time Out of breath from laughing and Spinning spinning Into the cool cool night Rainy mist and wind Pink rose in the dark Losing petals I am scared Was I really crying for him Or was he just an aperture for my tears Shadows on the ceiling in the morning dawn I watch them I watch him Turning, turning, reflection no more I stumble back When our eyes meet.

  Fresh Person Alive I’ve been tasting the world And I no longer taste food I taste cold air, icy, sweet, the smell of blazing bold leaves. Hair in the grass, warm in my skin in my scratchy wool. Clouds drift by To the sound of guitar strings And voices. I taste grit between my teeth Bringing the clay to center Floating, slipping Soft and smooth and wet Gives way Suddenly I notice how tense I am I release And press and Pull the earth into still curves Strong, she said. I taste sparks Dew on spiderwebs Strong glint Fog that     Revealed the [invisible] and veils [everything else] A [sunbeam] on [dark pews]     Again with this [God] Like blood on snow, a red rose I saw among the white. But I am still hungry And so I taste white water Mostly brown The current pulls down so I pull in. True nature revealed Red in tooth and claw he said. All uphill I scream with glory I crawl through the dreck Just to ...

Moon Whac-a-mole good ideas All of them good Awake awake Why Barefoot in PJs Down down Hot hot Burned feet Steam heart beats, Earthy heart beats, My heart beats. Fuck yes, Birds chirping, Sunrise.

Words We're walking together, but not together. One word can change that. "Hi." "Hi," he responds. His voice is deep, and it surprises me. I have a sentence in my head... Usually fear would reel it back in to the depths of my tensed stomach. But this morning I rode my bike and I was fast fast fast and stop signs blurred red. The words drip like cool slimy sweat from my lips. "Do you remember kindergarten?" I ask. "Um, we were in the same class?" He asks back. But I know he sees me taunting him on the playground, our short little legs running through wet grass. I want to go back and crush those words down my little throat and dry his silly tears. Yesterday he said something funny in class, though, and he looked at me. I don't think I'm blind. But I am lonely. "You don't remember?" I hesitate, and then pull the youthful mocking singsong thread reluctantly from the hem of time, ...

I Come Back to the Stream Breathless, thoughts racing Asleep, dying Fighting, defiant        I come back to the stream. Naked in boots        I come back to the stream. Legs downstream Head into clear running ice I gasp as my muscles seize         and quake         and revolt But I hold still        until Breathing slows Thinking        clears... A spark jumps into flame, and I fling myself to the grassy bank. Crystal droplets ringing, Sun crackling golden grass.

Wet Skin on Wet Skin Wet skin on wet skin Dark water Pale moonlit skin Deep water Tumbling tumbling Slippery wood Dark water, Breath. - Sharp ballpoint on skin Warm skin Candle glow Golden head on soft tummy Humming humming Cool strands of hair Warm skin, Breath.

The sleepers to be woken The dreams to be broken Dawn is coming and the world will start anew.

Graveyard at Sunset A bus passes, The line number lit the same color as the sunset. Orange dusky sunset shines through the tree trunks like blank sheets of paper. Birds chirp and swarms of gnats are lit by a rusty halo. The egg yolk reflects in a marble gravestone Next to a quietly rustling flag.

A Walk in the Woods             I felt like I was dreaming. There’s something timeless, intriguing, about the way that the woods are wild. In this world where we hold tight to control so much, the woods are the one place where that control is released. Gods rule the woods, not man. As I stepped into those woods on that day, I shrugged the weight of the world from my shoulders, but conviction, the feeling of purpose, stayed. I felt like I was dreaming, the green leaves shifted and light cleared the shadows from a space in the path.  I felt like I was dreaming, my eyes seeing and my ears hearing, but from a distance. The gentle trill of birds, the subduing rustle of the leaves, and my heart beat cold and slow. I stopped in front of a bench along the path. The gross stamp of human dominance. I sat.             People go to the woods to escape. What was ...