wesley chapel

like so many leaves scattered,
tattered before the ashy day’s end

I find myself caught up in the wind’s

whispered sigh, pushing solidly at my

back….accelerating me and I imagine

 

that small space occupied by your hand.

Not anxious, not getting me out of the way….

instead moving with me as I sway in fiery

reds and yellows and crispy browns ~

a small stand of myself along a cemetery’s edge?

An odd meeting place for lovers without secrets…

hedging bets on dreams never dying…

and I’m caught up in the lacy folds of fence,

the white’s kept in and coloreds sleeping outside

in wiry waiting woods….all tangled,

haunted by neglect yet somehow

freer than their kept counterparts…

with families and a duty during holidays.

we skip stones and generations skip departed

like so many leaves scattered

tattered before the ashy day’s end,
finding ourselves...

11/2009

Ocean’s breath for Stephen and Lorca

green how I love you green:
the tint of my faerie wings in
gossamer’d foamy ocean love
whispering to the gypsy moon above:

I hear him calling me from that foamy wide?
familiarly around my waist his laced fingers slide
so perfectly willing and thrilling my soul
green goddess beauty in love made wholly

free in silver flight, misfit hazy skimming
across that ocean’s breath this starry night ~

green how I love you green,
the silver blue green mingling of the sea,
phosphorus currents mixing magically
igniting imagination’s fire, your eyes shining

free in desire, poet’s hazy dreaming
upon that ocean’s breath this starry poem is agreeing~

with that green fading into blue, silver laced melancholy
falling ~ I hear your ocean’d breathy voice calling

and we’re closer…

closer to that green.



http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Federico_Garc%C3%ADa_Lorca