River
Tiny legs a-crawl,
River cups a jeweled friend,
Wonder in his eyes.
Her nectar dripping from the enveloped flower of her being
Like honey sticky sweet, she savors herself from her fingertips
How she longs to be back within the primitive Eden
Skin bare to the elements and her voice able to be lifted up to the sky
To the goddesses imploring her to
Find magic within the trees, across the ice cold waters
To yearn for her full body
To feel the heat of earth pressed into every fiber of her being
A kind of delicious enchantment she discovered so long ago
A yearning to quench
And even when god left her
She still calls upon the empowerment of her body
To reclaim that secular power
That man said only this so called
Greatest man could conjur
Pear tree blossom snow
Born on spring winds
White petals shroud
Blown-down pine limbs
River birch gyrates
In the gusts, its crown bends
With a crack, its twirling ceases
Spring will have its way
in lying back,
feeling the cold
river splash
on my bare shoulders,
bathing in
the warm radiation
of a wide-open sky,
taking a deep
breath, and not
giving a good
goddamn
where the water
takes me, sweet
wu wei,
I’ll make it work
on any shore.
string lights illuminate fireflies
echoing signals of summer darkness
nestled in treeless backyard havens
dogs singing endlessly in evenings
yearning for a better roll of the dice
shielded by the discomfort of their
existence
none the wiser to the plight of man
he cut in out of nowhere
can’t recall dancing fast or slow
only being bound by joy
it’s existing
I can’t breathe
only feel exhausted
gasping for breath
outside this prison
of ambigous destination
my eyeballs so heavy
weighing down under
eye circles
I carry my choices
on my sore shoulders
my frustrations live
in my lower back
and I can’t bend
to my own expections
I close my eyes
and my imagination
spins outa this space
to new constellations
My forearm presses
on those eyeballs
and visions appear
witnessing scenes
where I’m not there
It’s an in body experience
and I can’t get out
no matter how I try
gonna live in these places
to the end of my existence
Do you ever wonder how our fears originate? Mine of anything large & dusky (birds, butterflies, dragonflies, moths) hovering in near air, or when sizeable spiders, millipedes skitter inside my home. And why bees, wasps, beetles, mice, lizards, snakes don’t scare me, but large mayflies with their droopy thread-legs do? They don’t bite or sting, have no mouth once they emerge from water after a year as larvae, live only five minutes (female) to a day or two (male). Lady bugs don’t panic me, or pill bugs even in high volumes, as the summer they invaded my bedroom. I’d find desiccated husks under nightstand, dresser, chest of drawers when I vacuumed. As children, we called them roly-polies. Armadillidium vulgare—isopods, soil-dwelling crustaceans. Nifty, to have an exoskeleton of chitin. How wise—when disturbed, to protect your inner organs, you curl up like a tight fist, outwait the danger.
