a newfound warmth
my pieces tumble away
a chapter closing
Violet Worry
violet bruises
“no cause for concern”, you say to the summer day
people worry
correction: friends and family worry about this you
incorrection
no guilty boyfriend or jilted lover created the violet
truthfully
it was you, wildly spinning into inanimate objects
while tripping out to Oscillate Wildly on repeat
My Daughter
My daughter’s scared of death,
yet the dead live all around us.
She cries to me about the ghosts,
yet the ghosts won’t harm us.
My daughter shivers at the corners,
yet there is no one to scare us.
She tells me of the evil monsters,
yet there is no evil to touch us.
My blossoming daughter, she runs,
yet dead sorrow cannot touch us
for she lives
and
I am dead
Old = New
Modern fashions
wearing the latest fashions
We are fashionable
what those before wore is gone
Modern and futuristic
wearing what dreams come
We wear art-borrowed
what remake of something old
Constant Winter
Leaves of green etched into a black canvas,
white flowers mixed in for the forest spirit
and a sprinkling of snow upon the old trees.
If only those mythical flowers were real,
how they would frolic wickedly in the sun.
It’s over now, and the end passed me by;
never to feel Spring petals on my ice skin.
Flower
A flower in Spring
You exude a rare nectar
Me, a buzzing bee
Sipping upon your nectar
Napping amongst your petals
Falling Again
A fleeting glimpse,
the music of Angelo Badalamenti
playing down low.
I am in that place,
watching people with telephones,
ethereal women.
The horror of small:
exacerbated by her beautiful face,
falling in love again.
Love: I, You, We, They, This
I was there,
there in that place,
I was there.
You took my hand,
in that place,
You took my hand.
We were one,
within philosophy,
We were one.
They used theology,
torn asunder,
They used theology.
This is what we were,
killed for love,
This is what we were
and what we remain.
The Magnolia
I saw her when she was relatively young,
gloomy and sulking for the first few years.
I never thought twice about her and me,
the grumbles and gloom would pass away.
I saw her when she started to see me,
she had shallow roots and disliked the frost.
I never thought she would ask me to stay,
when she bloomed, she took my breath away.
Within the Trees
Walking amongst the old guardians,
the ancient ones who know all of our secrets.
Within the trees, we search for the old place,
where the water runs clear and blue.
Whispering trees tell each other their stories,
we find the lake in the starless night.
Wishing for a miracle or a sign from the gods,
the path of the Moonglade is truth.
C & K 