Tuesday, March 31, 2009

Valley Currents

Brush me aside
to murky forest depths,
lay against me
like the snowy steppes,
and dare to drop me
as the morning dew.
Taste of me
my night's breath,
of meadow-like perfume
whispering through bluebells and lupine,
and the wings
of whistling thrushes.
Clobber me against
stoic cliff-side,
drain me helplessly
through tranquil high passes
and traverse my currents
by way of verdant mountain cathedrals
and swim into me,
through and through.

Friday, March 20, 2009

This Dragon's Land

***The seasons are what captured me in this poem, winter in particular.


How crept in the warmth
of lucid thought
on this snow-veiled meadow
where summer’s rent is past due
and life’s impetus is bent
on suckling spring,
I cannot guess?
But imagine for a moment
life cast out
into winter’s clutch,
where treetops poke up
through snow,
where snow devils foxtrot transversely
through moonscape,
where the unyielding rock lichen
bite into cliff-side,
where jovial scarcity is enough
for life here.
Progress forward,
And winter is not lost
to those summer-imbued meadows,
for as fine as the mysteries I shift,
as desperate their dance,
I know any enlightenment
is but in mock abbreviation
to meaningful answer.
And yet are any necessary?
Let winds scatter,
moonlight shine down,
blue day fade to black night.
Give me a tangible body,
you milk-eyed, blushed-cheeked hope
and I will remember winter’s breath
in this dragon’s land.

Thursday, March 5, 2009


This poem is about Dawn, as the name implies. I imagined myself traveling the world round with the Sun, always in morning, never in darkness, never truely in day.


Sit down my dear passenger,
- speak to me Oh Morning,
for as desperate the hours
of fluid darkness
spilling into my bones,
there exists in me a flaming furnace
that rages without rest,
without stopping,
without reprieve!
For all dreams
and expectations you have
rest in me
and my light.

So shore up your sleepy eyes;
accompany me Oh Morning
around and spinning
ever drifting into the world awakening.

Do not fear the smoky darkness
burning in my stead.
Out from it you are,
a new day
ever on the shores of crashing waves,
frothy clouds,
and sand-abundant shadow
of tree,
of mountain,
of city.
And the colors of our tryst
blooming, cursing, loving
they are my dear passenger
days fleeting…