Delicate Darkness

(There is) a delicate darkness
Like lace, thick & complicated
It's roots stretch & wind deep
Like tentacles searching for life
Layered & old like age rings on an old oak

It is a voluptuous darkness within me
It is sound, rhythm, & cacophony
Paint, charcoal, & ash
Percussive combustion of fuchsia & vermilion
Splatter like wax

Breathy quivering notes
Brush a pale cloud of opalescence.
I fling my arms open
Throwing raspy low vibrations
That languidly smear smiles on a sanguin(ary) red earth.

Volare

I am a glass bird
with wings made of eggshells,
whispers,
and tattered,
soft pieces
of human heart.

This moment

This moment..

A clear cold night the sky has truth & an unassuming moon

The east bay is a delicate necklace of lights draped over dark water

From up here I see a city I love, a city I’ve had illusions about,

I try to see his house in the landscape of small colored squares but

This song makes me feel inflated, I feel dark & light I feel magic & winter

I feel forest & fire and the icy chill of the blue night air gone fragile on my cheek,

And all the while,

We were steady going under…

Afterglow

I want to be your muse

Let me be the goddess you use-

Shake what you know 

I can change how you see and react to the light that refracts off and falls across bare collar bones-

   Out of Darkness I will rise (again) &inspire, like the promise of my name held on your caught breath-desire. 

It is not your gaze which illuminates me but your gaze that experiences my illumination.  

 I am a bed of silk & velvet roses,

 the color of a sunset on fire-

 dripping  in gold 

Thorns that bleed deep purple

I Smell of ancient wisdom curling softly and disappearing like smoke 

I want to sing you notes that make you remember autumn. 

When I Hum, you will be coated- close your eyes and drift to the flow of thick warm honey taking you away. 

Lost- in my eyes 

 until I blink & my lashes are weighted by droplets, not of Onyx but of Gold-they escape, splashing to the ground at my feet. 

Epiphany # 63

Most of my epiphanies, and breakdowns happen in the same locations; the bathroom, and the kitchen.

Inbetween

I tried to put a spell on him but his spirit is illiterate;And if my incantations can't work, break them down to single words that make no sense; And if individual letters have no meaning, then the space between A and Z could be a life time; And if the life between A and Z has no space -we can not breathe; And a life will not work- a spell cannot work without a gentle breath that passes through soft pink parted lips.



Inspired by Amiri Baraka

A Break-up Poem

In that dream

Where I held on

 to your bare back

and shook with sobs

Tears held their breath like icicles on shoulder blades and rib cage-

Was it my blinking through drops

In the morning sun drenched shower

That made you flicker?

 Or were you really disappearing?