you remember ~

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trusted

on the wake
of eternity
blue casts a shadow
where time keeps the past
without room for restraint

poised on the page
of sweet revelation
of all that I am
but a handful of grain

so tell me
your stories
write of the reasons
and who held your sorrows
to light for a while

of voices returning
by way of the bark –
and paths cleared anew
by the wild

thrill me with tales
of mysteries starting
books without words
and stars
without place –

of night owls
and herons
nesting as one
in a strange yellow bush
by your gate

tell me you’re leaving
but hold me just once
the way
(you remember)
to keep

I’ll build a fire
at the edge of the night
a reminder of time
‘lest eternity
sleep

. . .

the same as I ~

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estranged

across
into this southern still
wherein the last wild goose
has flown –
stretched against the beating drum
distance melts to psalm
played again
on northern flutes
and meant to save
us all

alone
to pen these letters few
will speak of all I know
ancients leaving feathers
on the lawn
whistle as the lessons fall
eager to the rise
stories there
where graces come to word –
memories are stirred
the same as I

steady
as the twilight
perched upon the fence
watches past the time
where life begins to never end
sweeps to reams of maple
every mention
of goodbye –
lullabys we never knew
echo through the dark

rapture wrapped in arms
of evergreen

. . .

wishes blown ~

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together gone

almost gone
the clover died
in one last dream
of heaven
and wrapped his chilly legs
around a sigh

waiting
as the autumn winds
were blown across his cap
and dried into
a fated hesitation

of one more time
of wishes blown
summer to his side
and gathered round his wools
for wandering

left to lie
in pastures
where the cattle know
his name –
stars are set
into the face of god

. . .

survivors ~

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proof

frosted
white of winter leaves
silence in the kitchen
where cluttered there with dishes
on the floor

survivors
of an evening past
how slow our recognition
of places held
before
the coffee spilt

splattered
to the ashes –
crystal cigarettes
are careful in their telling
of our lies

maybe
when the sun is poured
new across the vinyl –
we’ll wander here
to pick the pieces up

forgotten how it hurt
curses now gone colder –
tears have dried
beneath
the habit’s stain

. . .

where they fell ~

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i_will_find_a_way_by_A_l_a_s_s_e_a

were asked
I can’t remember
the colors of the day
or what I knew before
of what remains

was Tuesday
and the skies so blue
I can’t recall another
felt the same
when flush against
my soul

were moments
but a moment gone –
eternities decided
as fingers brushed
across a great
divide

planets moved
(or did they)
who can really say
where the stars awaited –
where they fell

forsaken by
the choice to be –
where one
the other started
taken as the vapor
into flame

were asked
I can’t remember
the color of the night
or what became
of where I left
my heart

. . .

memories of stone ~

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slow me
 butterflies
who lived to love
the trees of mexicali –
are floating now
the appalachian trail

stronger winds
are blowing
northern candles west –
as southern nights
 are pushed against
the dawn

rivers rush
beyond their fame
black the velvet feathers
are found beyond
the memories of stone

twilight winks
 above the tides
where once a culture crumbled
sands are set
again
by ancient hands

places undecided ~

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how is it
that you know me –
another shade of you
a softer voicerumors
and they won’t sound
the same
choices of surrender
let me share
with you my ways
touch me as I know you will
was never not
always

becoming
this remembrance
of a time before our time
locks were pushed away
and curtains fell
rusted beds
and stories told
of places
undecided
as fit to one –
another was begun

woods and wind –
as verse repeating
carved our tears
to stone –
a memory of leaving
long ago
crushed beneath the centipede
waiting us the sun
immortal now
is teaching us
to know

. . .

shadow tell ~

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stilled

before the last
was melted –
robins in the snow
silence took the place
of sweet surprise
before the month-old babies
were tumbled
from their arms –
before the dream
became the best
there was

of verses
spun to linen
– as lines retraced
by heart
poems found
in pieces
never rhymed
late nights in the kitchen
habits pressed
between –
was more than we forgot
the morning come

marmalade
and I won’t tell
how the story started –
it seems the wind
has taken
all I know
branches bent
against the roof –
sometimes
I hear you calling
poems fill the shadows
as robins melt
in snow

. . .

places I knew better ~

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once i knew

before
and still
the truth becomes
another way I knew –
counted by the blossoms
I was seed
longer held
the coming back
for one more dream (or two)
paths have worn
as now my lonely bones

in memory
recall the cool
of places I knew better
the grace of summer storms
and winter rye
where bliss was only starting
weaved the vines
as one –
lines the same as leaves
across my hands

of ancients
they are stilled
beyond the purple crest
tho deep within her breast
the braver sleep
lives were come
and love endured –
or so they say
in leaving
burning back a flame
I dare not quench

starry nights
are all I know
of what remains forever –
threads are worn
tho not beyond repair
whispers cling
to autumn weeds
with will
for one more harvest

one more path
becoming –
long the ways
to home

. . .

almost buttercups ~

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ALMOST
February slivers
of seasons yet to warm.
Yellow clumps
of almost
buttercups –
naked damp foretelling
a pattern
of goodbyes.
Starlings burst
from towers –
stretched between.
Darkness sings
of January –
wrapped in frigid light.

. . .