Friday, April 18, 2014

We Gathered Our Horrors

We gathered our horrors
and fed them to the fire.
Our skins became smoke; our arrows ashes.
Skies spilled from our open hands,
and moons rolled ripe at our feet.
Our teeth dulled down and rooted deep
into the common skull.
Finally, our bellies were full.
Peace grows wild
in fields of forgetting.

Some thoughts on peace (working on that!) for Marian's prompt at Real Toads

Thursday, April 17, 2014

Spidey Sense

My meditation Spidey and a glimpse of the rest of the collection.

on the eight-spoke web,"
Spidey said.

"Sticky or silk is a state of mind

and grace
the mate of an empty head,"
Spidey said.

But what if I'm the fly?

For Ella's prompt at Real Toads

Wednesday, April 16, 2014

The Magician's Assistant

The smoke cleared quick,
and the truth of the trick was revealed;
the rabbit in your hand

sawed in half
with a blade and bath
much like me.

For Kerry's prompt at Real Toads

Tuesday, April 15, 2014

Madonna In Oil

Raffaello Madonna Cowper.jpg
Small Cowper Madonna by Raphael, 1505

I am merely the bones you build on;
the canvas of complexion
where you buff and bleach this desert stone
to a paler, more pious perfection.

Where is my sun sueded skin?
My dark, oasis eyes?
The raven hair I passed to him
when I passed him between brown thighs?

For Kay's prompt at Real Toads.  

Monday, April 14, 2014

If I Were To Meet You

I'm charm
decaying to strange.
Got a smoking French accent
and a seven string guitar.

You're a darkling.
A whirligig with sheathed wings.
If I were to meet you,
I'd meet you where you are.

For Open Link Monday at Real Toads

Sunday, April 13, 2014

Two Seasons

In Oklahoma, there are two seasons:
football season and tornado season.
Spring is tornado season.

Have you ever seen a tornado?
Imagine a big, beautiful beast
with two hundred mile per hour teeth
chewing up ground, houses, towns
and tossing ten ton trucks like toys.
Is that pride you hear in my voice when I tell you
that a twister can drive a piece of straw through a telephone pole?
Maybe a little.

See, I love these toil and trouble skies.
I love the green saturated stillness before a storm.
I love the warm/cold/warm crashing devil spin of air.
I love peering hard into a rain wrapped night
and knowing God is out there
walking and leaving prints on the prairie.
It doesn't scare me

When I travel out of state,
people invariably ask me,
"How can you live there?
Why do you stay?"

"Well," I always say
(to the hurricane survivor,
the smog soaked Angeleno,
the sardine stacked New Yorker)
"it's amazing what you can get used to
and come to see as just routine."

Know what I mean?

For Grace's prompt at Real Toads.  Also submitted to Poetry Pantry.

Saturday, April 12, 2014

Hatching Spring

I'm going to take a birdbath
and nest in the mulberry tree.
where I'll sing to every snowflake
until it's hatching spring!

For Margaret's prompt at Real Toads