Winter’s End
Call off this day.
For now, are the
settling sounds of the rain.
It drums the rivers ice
in a susurrus echo.
Being heard over my movements,
as I rest.
Along the bark of this tree,
on cold still rocks I sit ....
watching the tangled leaves.
There, frozen in place
are the grounded roots.
Pulled away now
in melts and weeps;
once laid and glazed in ice.
Uncovered at the start
of winter’s end.
For out of the whispering woods-
a hunted hoof still warm.
A sparrow-hawk preening.
It’s plumage stained.
With eyes of pale lemon-yellow,
then sudden hints of red,
fresh off a finch roost taste.
I look up to see
the fish-wire crossed,
mid-cast, the fisherman’s reel
calls to man’s best friend
by the rivers edge.
While approaching slowly,
harsh chills of a billowing overcast.
It chooses to dance; swirling~
challenging the sunsets bend.
A journey through ravines,
pulse the water. Diverging spills-
side by side, as vital forces.
In a moment,
the day turns toward night.
The towers light with howling wind.
Edging decay purls-
pulling together, outward,
over the water and into the fog.
In the dark, we
take our canoe up the river.
Out of these wet,
hard-wearing clothes,
we rest.
~ Jessi (poem)
Gone
Pain and pleasure drift in waves of heat
breathes of cold air chill on rooftops
the dazzle of thin spider veins in sky
ghosts of your soul entangling me
beating on the tarred paper of life
shivers of skin sense you are still here
quivering of our hearts goes on, bursting
through floodgates of falling words
illusions lost in sodden clouds
watery reflections of invisible universe
shuddering sighs from my breast.
My Life, A Masquerade
I wear this mask,
one of many faces;
my own,
never revealed.
It is a horror,
a face born from death.
The mask,
more pleasing.
To see the real me,
means the masquerade is at an end.
Your mind will cringe,
your heart will explode,
and your blood,
runs over my fingers.
I am anyone
and everyone.
Every day is my own Ball,
where death chants music,
and daylight becomes eternal darkness.
I ask you,
dare you see me;
the real me?
Do you dare risk your life,
for the sake of curiosity?
Foolish one.
Say goodbye.
Countdown
Eleven minutes
before you go
dark railroad
out of town
Ten minutes
You slick your hair
start walking
out the door
Nine minutes
I beg
make love
once more
before you go
Eight minutes
you shrug
and keep
on walking
seven minutes
run after you
you’re down
the block
footprints
on my back
Six minutes
grab
your shirt
rips
right off
leaving me
nothing
Five minutes
I catch up
to you
shove you
into road
Four minutes
speeding car
runs over you
Three minutes
on stretcher
Two minutes
at ER
one minute
dead
and
my clock
starts
once more.