Today’s adventure.

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Today's adventure.

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~Visionary~

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There is a pebble embedded
under my tattered nails
they are raw and ragged
caked with grass and dried mud
full where it should be empty crescent moons

Scratching at the surface
of the frozen ground
I was powerless
but once I felt
the heat radiating from
the core of the mother’s belly
I knew Santorini wasn’t so far away
after all

In the blink of a poet’s third eye
In the bluest blue of the sky
In the blossoming of a lotus I
I could be there and experience
the scent of the ebony sand
the ocean smoothed stones

My fingertips are the guide
as the blackest black ink
travels across the
virgin white parchment paper
creating synapse avenues
completing the circle

Like bubbles of air
I slowly rise to the surface
where this time the earth
is my sister awaiting
my return home

 


 

~How I Ache~

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You’ll never know

the depth of my desire

to stand in front of you

naked and trembling

waiting for you

to come

to touch me

in all the forbidden places

 

At night, before I sleep

I imagine

your lips, your mouth, your fingers

exploring

my neck, my thighs, my tongue

 

I’m tied up, knotted

and I ache

oh, man, how I ache

 

Unbound

Stripped

Primal

Scream

 

 

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~?~

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Strange to live with uncertainty
a constant reacquaintance
with the beating of my heart
the shadings of my soul
infused with pale pinks and flushed corals
I feel the pulse
in my throat, on my wrist
but there is a dull ache
insistent presence under my skin
questioning me, wondering
How long have you been dead?
How long will you live?

~Unstill Life, Complete~

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She didn’t notice
didn’t look through the window pane
to see the approaching storm
Didn’t catch the scent in the air
warning her of danger approaching
so busy with life she was
Until it was almost too late
It was the whistling wind
like a hurting animal or distant lover
a persistent sound carried from
there to here
When she finally lifted her eyes
saw the swirling mass
precious minutes were lost
She remembered her husband
the baby, her grandmother, the cat
not all could be saved
the tornado had now moved from
there to here

The overripe pears lay untouched
sprawled across the white tablecloth
on the red oak kitchen table
A pitcher of cream, a bowl
an antique silver spoon are
on the linoleum counter waiting
for a chance to be helpful
which will never come
The deserted farmhouse is wary
worn wooden flooring speaks
of a rushed departure
bags dragged, many pairs of feet
rushing out the front door
Each imprint in the dust
tells a silenced story ~
each pear and its
pungent fragrence ~
the spoiled and clotted cream ~
are mysterious scars left behind
of unknown fear, tragedy or circumstance
left for me to fill in the frame and image
of what took place months and months ago

I found her alone
in a cafe, next town over
What she thought would be
torn linen curtains, flooring ripped
a shadow of darkness
after the hungry mouth had devoured
all the food in its path
never happened
the monster sought a different meal
She was left knowing
what she was capable of
the decision she had rendered

who to save

I stood in front of her
not knowing what to say
for the monster had taken
more than I had imagined
Her sleepless, shattered eyes
a skeletal frame of a woman
weary posture of shame
spoke to me – wordlessly
I wanted to ask why?
But when she lifted her eyes
raised her arms to the sky
and screamed, “why did I do it?
I realized I didn’t know her why
at all and then –

She asked:
Are the pears still there?
Yes.
The cream?
Yes.

Just as you left them.

~Prelude – Unstill Life~

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She didn’t notice
didn’t look through the window pane
to see the approaching storm
Didn’t catch the scent in the air
warning her of danger approaching
so busy with life she was
Until it was almost too late
It was the whistling wind
like a hurting animal or distant lover
a persistent sound carried from
there to here
When she finally lifted her eyes
saw the swirling mass
precious minutes were lost
She remembered her husband
the baby, her grandmother, the cat
not all could be saved
the tornado had now moved from
there to here

 

(Below, previously posted)

The overripe pears lay untouched
sprawled across the white tablecloth
on the red oak kitchen table
A pitcher of cream, a bowl
an antique silver spoon are
on the linoleum counter waiting
for a chance to be helpful
which will never come
The deserted farmhouse is wary
worn wooden flooring speaks
of a rushed departure
bags dragged, many pairs of feet
rushing out the front door
Each imprint in the dust
tells a silenced story ~
each pear and its
pungent fragrence ~
the spoiled and clotted cream ~
are mysterious scars left behind
of unknown fear, tragedy or circumstance
left for me to fill in the frame and image
of what took place months and months ago

~Unstill Life~

Standard

Image

The overripe pears lay untouched
sprawled across the white tablecloth
on the red oak kitchen table
A pitcher of cream, a bowl
an antique silver spoon are
on the linoleum counter waiting
for a chance to be helpful
which will never come
The deserted farmhouse is wary
worn wooden flooring speaks
of a rushed departure
bags dragged, many pairs of feet
rushing out the front door
Each imprint in the dust
tells a silenced story ~
each pear and its
pungent fragrence ~
the spoiled and clotted cream ~
are mysterious scars left behind
of unknown fear, tragedy or circumstance
left for me to fill in the frame and image
of what took place months and months ago