Unescorted

I watch
two hawks
wing down

entwisted- how?

Each claw
a vein.

You cannot think
I am in danger

now...

the skies
do not possess
me.

Natural Conclusions

The perseverance
of the vine, the pure

intentions of the light
that guide its journey

upwards...

the lasting silence
of the cliffs,

the sleeping sea

and all its sacred
memories-

what are we

compared to rocks
and mountains?

Within Us

If I had ever learned modesty
(here, a mention of the hills
crowned with sun) I would have

known the contrite nature
of settled stones; their solemn,
grey and steadfast eyes.

But I, without a graceful fear,
find solace in the handsome rose,
glory in its proud, beguiling pose

or sunsets with their blood-filled
mouths, purple-silvered ladder-ed
light that climbs inside us.

We can be at no loss for words
that justify our dull and tired flesh,
confirms our ceaseless homage,

while in the duty of the night,
hands that fold and glances fall
must not deny that beauty lies

within us.

The Humble Poetic

Turned, this stick
into a mast. There is

no need to question
the poet-

the sails of ships
are seldom seen

but heard...

what lies beneath
a woman's skirt

does not betray
what beats

beneath the bone-

the muscles
of her heart.

The splendid peacock
prances through the yard

in search of
praise;

the small brown
sparrow builds

a sturdy nest

and secretly
lays its eggs

and I
shall be just

as purposed
and reliant.

The Parlour's Light (unfinished draft)

Pale, blue-white
yellow-ribboned
mountained sky

my heart
wakes up like

this:

lighter than
the shocking black

beaded
thrush's eye,

the long, spliced
coat of meadowed

morning,

the fair-haired
wheatened barely,

the sheen
of green-robed

parlours,

the graceful
colored swirl

of cloud-

medieval
as the ornate glow

of shifting
light.

Wildly Steady

In a clear moment
you madly

rush in...

planets spin
less

wildly.

To make a storm
you stir

a wind;

your sudden
flame

like lightening.

And my own
long, unwavering

days
of silence

steady.