Tending to Sunsets
life may be worth the tears
if for the sunsets
which close tired eyes
meld the heart in soft colors
wrap heavy bones in the dark
it’s something of an exhalation
breathing over cityscapes
and rolling hills
it lets you sink when you are stiff
think when you are blurry
in the eyes and head
how many skies have you tended
turning day to night
how many stars have you counted
losing track always
how many sunsets were meant for you
Eyes
I’ve always had a thing for eyes
The bulbous ones that pop from their sockets
The ones that aren’t there but should be
The flat ones– sagging or deflated (minding the pus)
The tired ones after too much Netflix
The red ones burned from a heartbreak or two
The closed ones–either dead or will be
will be eventually
When it’s all over (and I’m in a manic mood)
How was I so blind to the world
to not know its beauty?
Oh, how beautiful the world is
when every feeling falls upon my flesh
and brings a tear to my eye
and many more when I think of the enormity of it all
I shall cry when it is all over
when I shall say goodbye
to this place, I only knew for a short time
I was so blind
for there is suffering, but the beauty keeps me here
To live and to breathe, only to lose it all
I love this life; I am not blind, and it is beautiful
Futon Talk
sprawled out on the couch
you drop–hypnotized and m e l ti n g
into the futon that sque aks as you
plummet into rainbows
tasting of cherries and grape soda
licking at the air as your pupils e x p a n d
and the silence is LOUD
spinning into a frenzy
you tell me you’ve never been so happy
yet I don’t see you smile
you tell me, it’s true, you’ve never been so happy
so I believe you
laying there, I count the minutes
between the sober black and white
of the clock on the wall
tick tock you say tick tock
I tell you I’ve never been happy
you tell me I’m smiling
Goodnight
the moon watches over me
as it retires behind the bold sun
it prays for peace
in a day to be lived
well and with vitality
it stands in solidarity
an enduring reminder
of birthdays long gone
and when black ink takes hold
amidst the chill and constellations
it appears
bright as day
to say goodnight
and welcome home
Magic
you told me you were a witch
sorting tarot cards with stubby fingers
prancing between old oak trees
casting spells that you dreamed up
tossing herbs in a cauldron pot
chanting gibberish at the stars
you gasped and cried out
praises for life
distanced from the past
future manifestations
of hope that would last
your heart on your tongue
bleeding words with vigor
but I knew they weren’t listening
just watching you like a million eyes
but I let you believe
because you were magic to me
Spindly Legs
if the mind has legs
they are spindly
like a spider’s or vines on a plant
which turn, wrap, squeeze, intertwine
without secure direction or honest intention
you look at me
with my spindly legs
but your smile is mischief
like the Cheshire cat’s up above
clinging to a branch in the dark
I find you hard to trust
and I’m sure you’d say the same
