Cold

Chill white fingers

Frigid joints

Aching feet 

Frozen from the floor to my hips.

Shivering spine

Glacial bones

Icy breath 

Searching for the thaw.

Moments of Clarity

I had a poem in my head and it disappeared.

Oh yea,

The one about the professor and his wife.

They lived lives

As we all do

Marriage, babies, and work

She was different though

Frenzied

Too alert

Different, but not sure how

She was a good mother

Good wife

The day her youngest bird

Left her feathered nest

Her sanity moved on too

She was unable to be contained

In the home she shared

With the professor

Desperate flight

Starry night

No home to hold her

He missed her

Worried he sought her

Medication failed her

Strangers raped her

He loved her

Still she could not stay

He left also

Following his bride

From town to town

Carrying two burdens for his trouble

Years melt away

There, see the couple in the café

She distant, he holds her hand

They both smell crazy now

A ripe, old, feral scent

Of onions and unwashed clothes

Of places best forgotten

Twin tanned faces

Framed by wild white manes

His face creased with both their concern

Hers remarkably smooth and blank

He tells his story

Of love.

I hear a tale

Of love lost

Driving home

From my menial job

As the sun set

I see them

Dancing through a park

She is alert and happy

In the golden light

He knew

To wait
For her fleeting moment of clarity.

In the Land of Plenty

In the Land of Plenty
food will grow on trees
a little effort will yield bounty
hard work will go a long way

In the Land of Plenty
education will be available to all
books can be read for free
art visible on our city streets

If we find this land, this oasis
I can only imagine
the gratitude
the kindness
the love
it would inspire...

If only we can find it... if only... if only...

Italian Plum

Small and perfect
Italian Plum
Almost black
Your purple is so deep.

Yellow flesh
Fiberous veins
under dark skin
a center like a brown blind eye.

Cape Disapointment

In the joyous morning
Bird song and laughter fills the air
Children scattered, pine scents

Whomphhh breaks the noisy silence.
I swallow my heart.

Screams - my own echoing my mother's senseless siren tones
"Get her out...get her out" a mantra streaming from my screaming lips
directed at the sharp orange flames that fill my entire vision.

Running the steps to her flaming tomb my father a moment ahead.
Heat ripping the air around my face
for one breathless second before they appear.

Aflame and shocked.
I stike them to the ground.
Instinct takes over in frantic effort
Remove the blue flames.

They flee seeking healing and safety.
What next?
Remove explosives, remove the children,
minimize damage, sooth the family,
carry on, carry on, carry on,
then sleep.

Months later when I least expect it,
my mind hears it and I swallow my heart again.
An echo of a defining moment
heard only by myself-

Whomphh. The world flashes orange.

Blood on Butter

Crisp jewel-like days
shimmering and spicy

Deep red and pear yellow
Blood on butter

Richer, clearer, dramatic
is Autumn

Auga

Clear perfection
Wonder of the Universe
Flowing freely from my tap.

Many fight for you
Many die for you
Many die without you.

You propel us
illuminate us
drown us
cleanse us of filth

You flow from the mountains
to the streams, joyful
to the rivers, swift
to the lakes, serene
to me