20 September 2011

Sharper and Duller

I would not understand
how from trapped within a tornado
I stayed straight as a pencil
my sharp pointed led feet
spinning hastily on its eye
(though I doubt the prick was felt by anything)
my palms met above my shoulders
arms covering my ears from whirling cries and curses
my dull eraser head somehow remembered
how I could barley lift
an eye open to witness
such a twisted demolition
collecting all too familiar nouns
giving them flight only to throw
down their spirit
I would not understand
how scribbling the disaster
spared me from destruction
somehow leaving me
sharper and duller

11 September 2011

A BLÜTHNER and the Fingers that Lay it Down

In the event anyone has walked on water, 
it would have been during a Chopin concerto.
A Blüthner taken for the seas,
and the fingers that lay it down
taken for a symphonic masters of waves. 

Amid black and ivory tides
melodies distinguish their fine-tune
by the fingers that lay it down.
Grasshoppers jump the bouncing keys,
pulling the strings of a pianoforte.

A bead of salt water rolled along the face
of the fingers that lay it all down,
filling the air so dense with romance,
I may have confused the sweat for a tear
in the Blüthner’s reflection
of hands twice over keyboards.

Eighty-eight tickles travelled the room
plinking about on pointed toes,
leaving a trail of smiles sitting upright
by the grand fingers that lay it down.

04 September 2011

What Tames a Lion

Thunder cracks thick humid air
kicks an ear drum
and moves in my chest
like a lion’s roar.
Before bolts of light split trees
the skies turn jade,
sitting so still not even a blade of grass bends
under the quivering spines of prey.
As the lion waits to pounce,
high heat crashes!
slapping fields with sonic snarls,
drowning any animal’s cry;
whipping the lion’s rumble
until muted and tamed.

Fuel for a Fire

where wind passes through a hollow
a ghost carries
aired tan bones
like a pile of kindling
fuel for a fire
lit amongst the fog
of a grey man floating
without borders

where stones meet stones
a heart carries
white bones covered in flesh
like a pile of pride
fuel for a fire
lit amongst the wreckage
of red covered fields
with borders

where just before soaring
a soul carries
timed bones
like a pile of truth
fuel for a fire
lit amongst the passing breath
of gratitude

01 September 2011

Momentary Hiccups

When awe-stunned time stands motionless,
taken back by a force, so strong,
gasping for air.

a hicc

is an unexpected happening
suddenly changing circumstances
As if a dice not asked to be rolled
in your honor.

At any moment will time take hiccups away?
Anomalies fill chests
with a bottomless breath of crisp fresh
depth and dynamism.