Poems VII

No Wonder We Talk of the Weather

Nebulous minds, dimly beget,
fuzzy with worship and tourniquets,

missing rings, and empty nests;

darkening mists in spidery webs.
Clouds grow weary and settle down our heads.

Rain-soaked eyes and splattered brows,

furrowed in thought of thunderous blows.

Lightening bolts have come and gone;

blindness weeps from corners still,

flooding dark our shut tight windowsills.

Sunshiny lips parted and cracked,

exposing our motives with calico breath.
Forces asunder parcel our warmth,
and also abscond, as sometimes suns should;
witnessing aeons of orangey folds at end.

And still amiss, our snow shod hearts,
churlish in flurries of deepening drifts.
Beautiful fallings hide only the forts
we have frozen in fear of showing our parts,
now melted forgetful into apathy ice.

Reflections of selves distilling our breath,
evaporations weakened and gone.
Once and forever, unchanging and still --
It's no wonder we talk of the weather.





The Eyes I Know


1.  Green
earth and soil,
fermented with doubts,
dampening, grounding eternal.
The spans of your leaves
leave me darkening, quickening,
as you give me my breath
and you take it away.
You suffocate me
with your viridian triangles,
trapping and shining in slaps.
You're impossibly strong,
you star-spangled coward --
I hate you, I love you.
I need you.

2.  Blue
mysteries of tapestries
lapis lazuli;
hot threaded weavings of lies.
Gunmetal anguish of
rejection and secrets,
you are slung like a sword,
you deceive like a river --
yet I know your core.
You blanket my sand,
you jewel my soft palm;
I hate the hard edges
but I love what's inside.
You're my essence of malleable,
ludicrous truth.

3.  Brown
gaping pools
of salt and tears love;
your Neptunian empire
releases my soul.
You make me forget
myself and my demons,
my mistrust and fear --
the fraught exoskeleton
always I bear.
You unfragment me,
though you're fragile as time.
I'm lost in the black
of your ancient and luminous,
see-through, watery eyes.

4.  Mottled
are mine,
bluish and greenish
and black at the center,
and they say in a language
as foreign as Latin:
that I only want
a promise of more and
to promise you more --
for I can show all.
I carry this world
in my feeling-full eyes,
and they are as clear and as honest
as sky.