Filled with spines filed by the magic code of number and alphabet,
Over the years, wooden shelves replaced by cold metal.
Exhaling the scent of dust and aging paper –
A strong perfume that has been known to prompt sneezes.
A place of wonder-ment,
Elixir for the imagination.
Able to draw me in -> to a story
And draw me out -< of myself.
Freedom from other’s thoughts by
Filling me with other’s thoughts.
A place of seclusion and privacy
In the company of the multitudes.
Some trick of shadows after lightning
projected the storm-struck window
made your eyebrows seem to be
bat wings poised to seek blood,
or perhaps a condor’s bent span
while closely examining the buffet,
either of them rising in anticipation
of that never repeatable and
always remembered first taste,
of the savory in changing roles
across the promised hours’ feast.
Lathering green goo
upon the shimmering salmon
tinted skin, a sting
whenever I sit, get dressed,
or even roll over in bed.
One thigh glued to the other
as I stretch in hopes to reach
the burned section
on my back.
My new swimsuit now etched
into my body,
praying it transforms
overnight
into a gorgeous sun-kissed
glow
serving as a distraction
from the chaos
taking place this week.
My runny nose
and frozen toes
have made me doubt
the path I chose.
The porch light glows,
the curtains close,
and no one knows
I’m near.
I am aware
what’s waiting there
but I don’t care.
I’m home
Where did the world
that was promised to us go?
Where are our futures?
What happened to our homes?
Do we need
any more secrets to keep
any more nightmares
to haunt us while we sleep?
Why did you lie
to attain your throne?
And then decide to corrupt
the promises you hold.
Do you not realize
what all you have undone?
Becoming like those you hate
it’s not the battle you think you won.
So kill me with unkept promises
and bury me with your greed.
And when the world turns upside down
just know it all started with your deed.
At 5:00 a.m. I push myself
up from the mattress
put on the ground to view
the multitude of fireflies rising
from the thick grown field
of timothy into the moonless sky
We rest on the south facing slope
of Dividng Ridge where the Milky Way
pours down into the pitcher
of Sagittarius. Sandwiched between
the soft snore of grandchildren
and the damp air of dew point
I answer an old man’s urge to stand
and releive a battered bladder.
Still in half dream of high seas
I sway and struggle to gain
a semblance of consciousness
and look up to see a line
of pearls strung across the firmament:
Saturn, Jupiter. Mars, waning Moon,
and glittering Venus in the far
eastern glow of the approaching Sun.
Should I wake the children?
No. They have a lifetime
to find this on their own. I’m
content to be here alone, to hear
the cock’s constant crow,
the children’s rhythmic breathing,
the silence of the last fireflies
The politics of the matter shattered us,
self loving, waiving signs, singing , crying.
And where have you left your god,
your center raging to make certain that
a woman,
a man,
owns nothing of themselves.
And yet I know when the moment comes,
when a decision balances on the tip of my tongue
gouging my own eyes, tearing clumps of hair.
I know what my choice is
even as you hand me the pills
to poison our future.
Under starred swathe of Urania’s heavens
sacred songs of Polyhmnia voice praise.
Calliope scribes epic poems to inspire
& Erato draws lovers close with her
fresh lines as Clio retells our fables.
Dance to Euterpe’s music! Wipe
Melpomene’s face, Terpsichore.
Laugh with Talia, no more
woes! Praise these NINE,
our revered MUSES!
