Friday, August 24, 2012

Watermark







                        soul's wing, courtesy of Ella Wilson






Watermark

I listen to a broadcast
about food auctions
Expired comestibles
spare ribs and cheese curls
whose sell by date
has lapsed
yes, it’s come to this
                                                                                             

Who knows
about dreams?
Do they expire too
as arms wither
and language
grows meager

                                        Where there once
                                        was a full larder


The pheasants rose
a family in flight
They weren’t expecting us

returning to the land
that we turn over
every night in our dreams
bliss of vellum
watermarks
lucid with memory

The pheasants are rising
out of the grasses
A family of them
startled by our presence.
And we are
astonished by the beauty
of it all.

                                         a tail feather
                                         dew soaked
                                         new 


Written for Imaginary Garden with Real Toads, soul's wing; Theme Thursday "promise" and  for Poetry Jam, I straddle 2 genres: political and fantasy.

Monday, August 13, 2012

The littered field




Where the edifice loomed
An opaque sky

I am drawn
To it:
The littered field
brash weed, lustre, loam

Furriers and junk dealers
Dybuks and delirium
The most uneasy of dreams

I watch as it all returns
The fabricant world
Crumbling.

As sure as
A new foal
Bolting
Conceived in late night quarrel
Grown in paved rubble.

Written for 3 word Wednesday, “crumble, drawn, uneasy” and Imaginary Gardens with Real Toads