Saturday, February 7, 2015

Fissures

I notice my patience
cracking like fissures
on a dam, drops of water
eroding the cement,
ink blots
on thin parchment,
and I cringe
each time my voice
crescendoes
in violent vibrations
as broken pieces of me
slide down the sides
of my resolve,
and the patches grouted on
by those I love
who keep me together
slowly break apart
until even they
are submerged
in my waters

Monday, January 26, 2015

White Lies

Inspired by Sue Sinclair

Light dumps on us,
the sibilance of refrigerators
stealing the silence of night, when
we imagine our lives as little
white lies, the only way we know
of coping with dead ends and
swallowed grief, falling
from the ceiling like birds,
forgetting to spread our wings















Photo from Manda Flower

Monday, January 19, 2015

Fig Leaves











Fig leaves hide the shame
behind skin deep intimacy,
which my soul craves
in all the wrong places,
broken pieces of a hand-crafted
clay vessel of fresh oil
and anointing from the Potter
that had once filled a valley
but now lay barren between
my breasts, empty tombs
of a paradise lost to my shame

Thursday, January 1, 2015

When Playa Agujas Was My Own


When Playa Agujas was my own
the waves whispered
my name at dawn
and beckoned for me
to come play in the sand
as it scattered beneath my feet
and tickled my toes. 
Seagulls graced the skies
in search of zig-zagging
red crabs that shared
the beach with coned seashells
and burrowed holes deep
into the sand the same way
Playa Agujas dug deep into my soul,
and then the sun pressed
against my skin revealing
the secrets of littoral seashores
and imaginary sea nymphs, its light
guiding my playful days and its heat
keeping me warm by night
until it burned in my memory
and gave my childhood
a seaside playground


Thinking of You


It's the day before the new year
and I've been busying myself
with nothing,
nothing at all just
trying hard not to work
and not be engaged
in work-related activities,
to enjoy the children with
their new gifts and additions
to the family, with their play
and quibbles of boredom
whereas I force myself
to keep emails unchecked
and binders in silent satchels
that sit too close to ignore,
instead spending time
with online relatives I only
hear from on this day,
wanting to start the new year
with a clean conscience and
guilt kept at bay as if words
could banish the other 364 days
when I busy myself so much
with not thinking of you that
I can't keep my mind off of work


Sunday, December 21, 2014

Unremembering

Hold on to the unremembering,
when today slips away like the sea
and yesterday is but a mist in the air
suspended between memory
and nostalgia, between love
and catching the scent
of something not reciprocated
that cannot be outrun, cannot be
ignored like the splashing
of ocean waves that are not mine to give
and were never yours to take.

Hold on to the unremembering,
a fading gray of being alive...
alive, but lifeless on the edge
of lingering remorse and wanton
experience, to rather have known
love and suffered from it, than
to never have known you at all.

Thursday, December 18, 2014

White Horizon



The white horizon weighs heavy
upon the nostalgia of falling snow
each snowflake a memory
stacked upon each other -
the first time we kissed;
the time you left a love
note on my windshield;
the children of your loins;
the years laying beside you;
laughing together;
watching each other
age with grace -
until I bend to each one
where there's much to remember
but nothing to declare, silence
not breaking the beauty
of a lifetime with you