Single-winged Samara (from the journal)

Incomplete, Acer?
Single-winged samara spins.
Heavy-headed butterfly,
whole in the light.  5-4-15 

All these days—

how will they be counted

if there are no poems,

no breath revisited?  5-23-15

Cool with a bit of

warmth to the eye,

the sharpness of bird bites.  5-23-15

Tiny, through the green round,

the blue sky,

circled.  5-23-15

Does dragonfly hear

woodpecker’s far knock

in his circle of sun?

White on black, both.

Now, moved to silence.  5-23-15

Come back now to silence

and maples’ new rose leaves

perched over all like sentries

with wings and pointed caps

aloft on air, here

where doors are not closed.  5-23-15

A bit of time—

oak steps through,

marking heart steps,

the dark verticals

moving down.  5-23-15

Side-stepping

to get to the holes between the words,

to the river running of its own accord.  5-24-15

Shenandoah

The perfect place—

air, water,

memories wrapped

and unwrapped.

A thin snake

the thread through all,

facing us with

clear eyes.  5-30-15

The years flow by,

but right here time pools around this

air-bound rock that floats free

under my pen

turning the currents

back around.  5-30-15

Marooned off Lime (from the journal)

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

Coming Red, Pear is Now (from the journal)

Coming red, pear is now,

firelight reflecting

her inner thoughts.  9-20-14

 

Just below the green leaves,

yellow vibrates at the same cycle 

as the late summer crickets.  9-22-14 

 

The world moves in shadow

and light, our breath

threaded through it.  9-22-14

 

Coming into being now,

streamers of earthly stars

looking over my shoulder 

at the lighter place,

mist-shrouded this morning

and one cricket speaks.  10-7-14

In the long-traveled light (from the journal)

 

Sharons' rosy smiles
are all new this morning,
tender new
in the ancient air,
in the long-traveled light.  7-23-14

The Summer Light (from the journal)

The summer light rolls in,
finds itself pink.
Bees find it, too.  7-13-14

Musical Breath (from the journal)

The light in my eyes came through sassafras, wood poppy, aster.
Left the red and blue parts of itself behind.
What does it leave behind in me, besides breath, musical breath,
Waterfalls of musical breath? 7-13-14

Just released from Librado Press!

A profound, intense, and vivacious collection of poetry 

from the South African Liberation Struggle by poet and actor Mphela Makgoba.

Born in South Africa in 1935, acclaimed actor and poet, Mphela Makgoba lived in exile from the Apartheid regime from 1964-1995. Makgoba was highly active in Washington, D.C. theatre and received a nomination for the Helen Hayes award for his performance in Athol Fugard’s The Island. After his return to South Africa, Makgoba starred in the 1997 13-episode SABC television drama series Masakeng. He currently resides in Kanana, Gauteng Province, South Africa.

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Under the Weighted Light (from the journal)

Hidden at the rest stop

gingko’s leaves appear on the ground

yellow in the cold yellow sun.  11-20-13

Soft from the frost,

bleached by the night air,

gingko’s little wrinkled persimmons,

soft between my fingers.  11-20-13

The sun.

It didn’t forget me all these months—

maple’s shadows on my face, my hands, my eyes.  11-20-13

Lemon with the last bit of color,

honeysuckles under the blue sky.

All the red berries.  11-23-13

Flowing down from the sun,

the cloud river with wisps

teased up by the moving light.  11-23-13

When I was gone

hickory lost all her golden leaves.

Greenbrier holds on to one,

her own, round as the sun.   11-23-13

Watery sun

over the gray wood.

It’s enough for all.  11-25-13

 

One more leaf

floating down on light.

I memorize how it’s done.  11-25-13

Is life enough?

In the sun it is.  11-25-13

Sitting here in love,

                      in sun,

                      your breath

                      filling me

                      with warmth.  11-25-13

In winter warm oak leaf light,

honeysuckles leaves ret,

curl by curl.  11-26-13

Waiting

like hickory in the rain

arms outstretched,

waiting for breath.  11-26-13

I opened the window

and the light poured in—

thin, dry, sticking to everything.  11-27-13

Hey sky, call me harder.

It’s dark in this room.

I can’t smell your heart.

There’s a cloud in the way.  12-3-13

It’s me, front and center.

Sun’s pupil waiting for moments,

illuminated moments.  12-4-13

A Sun Poem

Moving across seas of thought,

the holy one, one.  12-4-13

Breath, mind,

sunlight on my eyelashes.

Mind breathing light,

the other breath.  12-4-13

The light of first snow changes everything—

everywhere lightfall,

everywhere the quiet sound of light falling.  12-8-13

You walked backwards to meet me,

changed hands, stole my pen,

littered my heart with your laughter,

the sea blue eyes that listened.

And then I took it back,

my pen, to write the letters,

all the letters from my hand to yours,

one heart between.  12-8-13

The tinkling ice one day.

The quiet snow the next.

Beauty filling up the spaces between my thoughts

as vertical as the unmoving trees.  12-10-13

The only warm light this cold morning

is the yellow light passing through

honeysuckle’s last leaves.  12-11-13

Here,

under the black stripe of sky.

Above, the bright stripe filled with sun.

Here, below

dwelling in love,

a place of my choosing,

Here, just here.  12-11-13

Will it be repaired?

Will the sun melt a new skin

on the broken snowflakes?

Will the sigh be heard? 

Will the blue sky reach the heart again?  12-12-13

 

At Dawn   (for George Garvin)

It came again,

red and its own reflection.

Burned away thought

and left the cold air on fire 
and me breathing the light.  12-13-13

Under the blue spruce

in a dry spot,

snow falling,

two deer resting on the needles,

chewing their cud, ears forward.  12-14-13

The sun is skipping light

across the snow to my eyes this morning,

the concentric ripples of touch felt

but not seen on the crusty snow.  12-15-13

In the bright sun, me on one side of the window,

warm, yellow honeysuckle leaves on the other side,

all of us in a light which is never irrelevant,

warm or cold.  12-15-13

Remembering,

you caught the door.

Our eyes meet. 

You haven’t quite forgotten me yet.  12-15-13

The red one in the holly calls,

“Do you remember me?  I miss your thoughts,

the sound of your pen on paper,

your long glances, your sighs.  I miss you.

The light is still here on my feathers, on my eyes.

Your light, too.  Come.”   12-16-13

Pushing its way in,

the sun has left no space for me to move.

I sit in the swirl.  12-28-13

The coldest morning of the year.

After the coldest night of the year.

Quiet, save for the furnace.  1-7-14

Between the horizontal tree shadows,

The sun finds me in warmth, your warmth.  1-8-14

The arctic air withdrawn,

robin comes in its wake,

holly berries to be eaten.  1-9-14

Will you come then?

Will you sit by me?

Will you let me walk into your sea blue eyes

on a warm sunny day when I need to float free?  1-9-14

The dark and the rain

cannot overcome last summer’s glow

coming off the bed of orange oak leaves

swelling with memories and scent.  1-11-14

Bareness

waving up, waving down.

The light, the rain, the rising air,

rising.  1-11-14

 

January fell slowly without words,

colorless snowflakes through colorless light

moved only by my breath

warm with anticipation.  1-21-14

Hoping for words.

They could come up like trees,

one cell at a time under the weighted light,

with enough breath.  Mine, yours.  2-8-14

What would there be then if not for peace—

hickory’s graceful cascading curves,

the milk gray sky that comes down to the eye,

love that rises like bubbles after the sheeting rain,

the last of last year’s leaves pointing down to

a future not embraced,

just yet.  2-9-14