It’s
a long way I
went
to hear your voice, back.
I,
wrapped by blue,
self,
your self, fire,
your
rolling fire voice, embers
moving
across me,
a whole
place,
without
shivers,
mine
or yours. 2-10-15
On
many levels
it
remains—hope,
in
all the right colors. 2-11-15
The
door opens word by word.
Wren
waits on the growing branch.
I
wait beside her. 2-12-15
I
don’t pursue the hollow ring;
this
isn’t my time.
Do
you waken to the same horizontal sky,
gray
and cream?
My
time waits below my breast bone,
tucked
under my chin,
the
one that lifts to you. 2-14-15
My
eye finds it—
the
blue through crab apple’s
bare
branches. Sea blue
anchored
like my heart. 2-14-15
Here
we are on a slow slide.
There’s
too much light and raw sound
for
toes to meet,
naked
toes,
toe
to toe,
on
a slow slide
in. 2-18-15
Ragged,
lactuca
seeds under snow,
over
snow, silent snow. 2-21-15
Coming
down straight
with
the softest weight,
coalesced
dreams gather up white
over
the rising night. 2-21-15
Steady,
steady, steady they go
blown
through and through with
sideways
clouds of broken dust. 2-21-15
Does
it hold, the lock,
the
golden brown light of spring,
emerging-swelling,
breathing with light,
grasping
eyes, heart until the moment is fulfilled?
And
again and again, you, me,
the
space that is ours. 3-1-15
The
light is right,
the
morning sideways light.
If
not for the snow it would fall across
my
arms, my eyes, my pen,
that
sideways morning light. 3-6-15
It
beckons not, the snow.
I
stay inside, warm tea,
comforted
by lily’s brown,
down-turned
leaves that grace the
still-green
stems, two unopened buds
pointing
to each other.
Gestures
of thought unopened,
but
conceived and received. 3-6-15
Kalanchoe
Where
is the light now,
the
curls of light
coming
back red off wood,
green
off sedum?
Has
any made its way here,
and
does it cast its own taupe shadow?
Where
is the light now?
Is
it marooned off lime? 3-6-15
A
word, a sigh,
a touch
of paper,
the
softest paper
ringed
with light. 3-7-15
Do
you think of me when you move,
making
paths through it all?
In
my quieter path you are here,
the
last snow falling, silent. 3-7-15
Water
Maple’s
week-long flowers,
abrupt
in the soft air.
Now
rain, the soft rain
brings
down the full color.
Water,
colored by air. 4-3-15
Standing
in the water,
my
feet wet,
your
promise,
a pinch
of warmth. 4-3-15
