no encore

What I once thought was
a warm flame focused its heat
into a spotlight.

Blinded by your gaze,
I started this performance
with my face on fire.

Breezing through the void,
I took chances as I sang,
leaping past my fears

to jingle neurons,
to scrape up roots of response.
My breath blew music

from this distant stage:
voice of improbable dreams,
stupid strumming strings.

My song ended flat.
I never knew if your face
smiled or wept from the

blackness of your chair...
how my unseen audience
of one really felt.

Did the words matter?
At least you offered applause.
Spotlight off. Goodbye.

Indigo bunting

I found him intact,
iridescent feathers preened,
anticipation

of journey's endgame
squelched in an instant. Lover
killed. Songs never sung.

there is no why

Where to go with me?
City girl wants a tree house
and a sushi bar.

When to be with me?
Somewhere between all this rage
and manic cooking.

Who to see in me?
An eight year old girl aflame
and a sailor drowned.

How to be with me?
Nothing short of brutal truth,
laughter, hearts and bones.

What to do with me-
insomniac misanthrope,
mind of curdled milk...



(written 2 April 2007)

...and don't let go

Will these wings take me
to the light behind your eyes,
into a place where

the meaning of skin
subsides? Rollercoaster thoughts!
Will we ride the hours,

adrenoline spent,
while we scream out for dear life,
tearing 'round the bends?

These puzzle pieces
come together oh so soon!
Hold on. Please hold on.

Cat tails

A bed of cat-tails.
Like these thoughts I have, each one
is solitary,

a stalk all its own.
I try and remove just one,
yet as I'm pulling,

notice that under
this mud in which they're growing
they are connected,

none of them alone.
A net of roots and rammets
from a single seed...

I thought I had found
a dozen individual
expressions of life-

but really what grew
had seven hundred fingers
reaching from the earth;

simple expression
of one seed sprouting just right.
These wetlands are full.

The roots that are deep
provide structure and, during
the barren fortnights

they keep me alive:
packages of sustenance
hiding underground.

a moth wonders

This flame I fly towards;
the irresistable light
in your eyes....what thoughts

lie behind those lids,
and will I be able to
know them and survive?

Woman Immured

My windows are iced.
Is the world outside still there?
Where are all the stars?

RSVP

Empty and Lonely
have been watching my every
move the past ten years.

I've seen their childish
figures playing in the park,
and I have pushed them

on their swings, sooooooooo high;
given them summer rides to
the zoo, the cities.

I've heard their giggles,
the squeals of delight landing
inside my eardrums

with all the weight of
butterfly scales and holes dug
in sand at low tide.

Empty and Lonely,
with their wisdom and driveways...
land to call their own,

have matured since then.
I had them to tea, and they
said, "This is the day

for you to sit on
the swing in our wiiiiiiide backyard."
They'll push me this time.

How could I refuse
opportunity like that?
Clear the calendar.

I've been invited
to one of their grand affairs.
Don't ask what I'll wear.

disembodied

Heart consumed by flames,
emotion no longer hers.
They thought she was done,

but had forgotten-
ash dances wild in the wind;
her love's free, not gone.


(written 31 October 2006)