Poem: Diamonds

Clearer than ice,

Flash like fire.

Harder than bone.

Beautiful like you.

Diamonds are true.

Poem: Willow

Say your hushed songs in my ear, you draping willow.

Your frame is graceful, your leaves billow.

You’re a delicate silhouette in the south.

Whisper to me, I’ll repeat back with my faithful mouth.

Poem: Stormy Dusk

The red glow from the sunset was fire,

And the dark gray storm clouds were smoke.

The world was flaming.

Poem: Transcending Music

The music’s rhythm is curved and tender

And the transcendent light is undulating in thought

And definitive in nature,

Accentuated by the November blues.

The slippery mildew has an authentic essence.

Magenta blood spills out of my cuts.

Why is it we fear the ordinary

But feel extraordinary?

The fathomless voice of the wind screams in my ear.

The tree shades shiver.

Did you know the rain wants to travel in boats?

And past time is frozen in ice?

And cigarettes burn the universe?

Poem: Summer Comes

The pines hold up staffs with pebbles creeping up on them.

They’re developing cones.

The bush-trees have trumpets for flowers.

The glossy glaring holly has green berries.

The promise of summer comes with the hot prospect of happiness.

Bitter boredom is sure to follow.

And heat.

The sand burns.

Poem: Trees

Trees are people.

Their trunks are their main body,

With branches for arms

And twigs for fingers

And leaves for hair

And bumpy bark for faces

And roots for legs

And flowers for love

And nectar for wine

And fruit for infants

And saplings for children

And birds for voices

And the forest for their country

And the world for their home.

Poem: Lust

I wanted a dress the color of the blue twilight outside.

I wanted shoes that were as polished and shiny as pearls.

I wanted a knitted shawl as black as the night.

I wanted a purse as ruffled and vibrant as a rose.

I wanted a tent to shield against the sun and rain and as colorful as a rainbow.

I wanted lipstick as bold as an azalea.

I wanted makeup as fine and delicate as dew on a spider’s web.

I wanted hair as elaborate as a bird’s nest.

I wanted presents as amazing as a butterfly’s wing.

I wanted guests as regal as eagles and as kind as doves.

I wanted food as exotic as foreign capitals.

I wanted my party to be all of this,

But instead I got a shabby celebration,

A humid thunder storm,

A ruined dress and many tears.

Poem: Origin of the World

At the very Beginning,

Great rocks eroded into sand

And oils solidified into clay.

The sand and clay combined into soil.

The soil birthed seeds

And the seeds became trees

And the trees grew into forests

And the forests attracted birds

And the birds piped out songs

And the songs transformed into souls

And the souls created people

And the people made nations

And the nations formed the world.

Poem: May Birthday

My birth date is coming up.

It’s in May.

All the white clover blanket the ground

And cigarette smoke masks the fresh air.

Late bloomers have their weddings,

So all the shrubs and trees wear fancy dresses and perfume.

Vines dapple.

There are banana peels on dead grass.

Poem: Flower Cup

I had a yogurt cup full of irises and Lily-of-the-Valleys.

The little white flowers were umbrellas stacked on the stem.

The irises smelled wonderful.

The ones that opened were abstract with petals printed with brown lined designs

And had orange brushes inside.

The ones that didn’t were purple spades.

Some of the flowers were submerged.

Poem: At Night

The world is larger, more supreme somehow, in the night.

I am outside, and the full moon is out,

A shiny coin enveloped in a swath of navy.

The wind brings the salty air from the sea.

As I pass the bushes I noticed their woody dark and wild odor.

The playground has this burnt unpleasant scent,

And the fence encompassing it reeks of a metallic sting.

I have become a nocturnal animal.

All around me is the rushing of the wind and the sound of cars

And the buildings, giants in the darkness tower and engulf us all.’

I have become a creature of the night.

Poem: Great Stirring and Rhyming

A rose reddens in a bog.

And jostling spiders shimmer.

Here comes the emerald fog,

Electric eclipses glimmer.

Panting trees pass the green chill,

Giving seamless company.

There are solitary hills

That encase infinity.

Spangled orchids, dejected flutes,

Pine amulets, pungent green.

Chubby crocus, cradles mute,

Ethereal hems never seen.

Violet traffic, opal bales,

Tropic hint, the amber flag.

Red caravans, fairy sails,

Ribbons of topaz and rags.

Orchestras of summer boughs

Are fleshless chants, wordless tunes.

The zenith will unbraid now

From the phraseless notes of noon.

Pathetic pendulums chime

Startling the zealous butterfly.

Split pods of flame claim time,

Beating drums and insulted skies.

Ropes of sand: terse and militant.

Silence has stilled potent wood.

Snow and warrior have sent,

For dishonored daisies, his hood.

The velvet people's gown

(Independent as the sun)

Compute the formula of sound,

Yet elemental brown won.

The placid lily and crystal veil

Send sapphire fellows away.

Brother of universe eats his meal

And his pigeon nearby plays.

The route of cochineal

Has foreign fashion it seems.

Here an iris, here a bell,

Blooming with civic gleams.

Mind's tonic, Future's dispute,

Grass divided by a comb.

Print of vermilion foot.

Daffodil's sleeve races home.

A face rounder than the moon,

And dress ruddier than sod.

The timid cricket will sing now

Within dreaming pools and rods.

Pianos of the wood mangle me.

Prophetic pastures have grace.

The private breeze is that queen's knee

Engaging in heaven's race.

Deeper twilight, wider dawn,

Auroras, blazes of bronze.

Docile rows of a lawn

Shelter the exclusive fawns.

The lower meter of the year

Entertain centuries past;

And livid claws inflict fear

Beneath the lustrous ship mast.

Climb on Horizon’s piers!

Take a step onto Rainbow’s stairs!

There are furtive lilac lairs

Which unworthy flowers mar.

Leaves heard the Tale of Dew

And transcending ecstasy.

I am me and you are you

Sailing on a purple sea.

Poem: Beautiful But Terrible

Nature’s pretty.

It’s full of flowers and birds and trees and animals in harmony.

It’s pretty but not substantial,

You say as you return to your world full of more beings of your kind and vermin.

Nature has received a special name ever since humans left the wild.

Humans, the creatures that now rule the planet.

Ground, in reality, has no lines or borders, or countries or names.

But on maps, they do, and are considered the Just Way.

Nature used to be everything, but people have somehow banished this reality. And because of this they do not understand what the Outside truly is.

Yes, nature is elegant.

But with each blooming blossom, something dies.

Something is eaten by mushrooms.

Even the flowers are not really beautiful, or caring,

Because they only produce such vibrancy to lure insects into pollinating them.

To make their species survive.

The soil is composed of humus, or dead matter.

~

Yes, nature is beautiful but terrible.

The gentle deer runs from a pack of wolves,

Fangs flashing at each turn

And breath reeking with carrion.

Their glaring eyes promise death.

And then the doe falls, falls, and its body

(Which lived but an hour ago)

Is devoured.

The thick skin is pulled back and the fat and meat diminished.

Its death pose is beautiful.

The deer decomposes.

Beautiful but terrible.

Poem: The Nightingales

When the dark of night

Pours

Into the silent bedroom, something whirls and

Soars

Outside as well.

Songs.

Not the bright chirps of the small brown birds. Sad and

Long.

Not the harsh piercings of the warblers. Assonance

Flows.

Not the screeching calls of the seagulls. Melody

Blows.

The songs of the nightingales bleed into the

Air.

The sleeping world even seems to

Flair.

The notes are beautiful, the chords are

Dreams.

The birds are a mystery, unknown are their

Seams.

Are they sparkling black, with iridescent

Green?

Or do they have shimmering feathers from mottled

Steam?

Long tails, swift wings, wise minds and

Hearts?

Or a mirage of darkness, ghosts making up their

Parts?

The nightingales make their home in the

Night.

If you should awake like I did, in the absence of

Light,

Don’t be afraid of the nocturnal music

Calls.

Shivering will make you

Fall.

Poem: Midnight

I sat on the stairway

Reading “A Midsummer Night’s Dream”,

When a queer sound rustled at my feet.

She sniffed my right green slipper,

Then tickled the other with her dark muzzle.

I stared down at her, surprised,

And she stared back at me with vivid yellow orbs.

The creature climbed up the steps and danced around me.

So mysterious is she, this black sphinx,

And beautiful.

Every inch of her nimble body is perfect to the eye.

Her mouth is silver.

Her teeth are stars.

The dainty paws resemble ancient fossilized leaves.

She is silent, silent as the night stealing the evening.

She knows the way of the world.

But here, in the shelter of humans,

The cruel talons of Earth will never touch her,

So she is too smart to abide by it.

To her, I am not stranger, but a curiosity that may give her food.

Her legs tense and she leaps magnificently high for her size,

And then she is gone.

The creature was a mirage, a dream.

Her ebony fur was more magical than the Hair of a drowned Myriad.

Her sleek flanks were the stuff of legends.

Her tail is the tail of a black leopard.

Her nose was a pebble lying in the deepest lake in the world.

I call, “Midnight!” but the cat was gone.

Night Wanderings {1::2}

It was night now, and it was so cold the rivers turned hard and the stars shone with a frosty brilliance. Maun crept into the great forest, and looked for a warm place to sleep. She was becoming drowsy, and feared that she might never wake. Her fancy dress tore in the brambles, and her hair caught in the low branches. She found she could not free herself, and wept once more. Suddenly, a voice floated to her.

“Why are you crying, small girl? It would be best of you if you went home, away from the dangers of the monster Titalukia. It only awakes from its slumber on the darkest time of the coldest day of the year.” It was Ground Squirrel leaping from tree to tree towards her.

“Not you too!” Maun grumbled. She was about to shoo him away when a thought occurred to her. “Oh, brave and kind squirrel,” she gushed. “Oh, you are the greatest creature in the forest, Ground Squirrel. You can do anything. Therefore, I believe freeing a girl from her prison is a small task, is that not that true, Ground Squirrel?”

“Why yes, yes…oh, yes all that is true! So I could…” he muttered to himself. “Hmm, I may be able to untangle you, on one condition.”

“And what is that?” Maun hissed in disgust. “I shall repay you with gratitude- is that not quite enough?”

“Ah, but the horror of going through a human girl’s messy hair- I shudder at the thought of it! I have grown tired of feasting on simple acorns and dull nuts. I smell in your pocket one nice cake. Give me that willingly, and I shall free you.”

Maun was about to agree in submission, but thought better of it. “It is my last rice cake, and I am hungry! I have better things to do than feed ugly squirrels.”

“How dare you insult me,” Ground Squirrel spat. “What have I ever done to you- I am only trying to fulfill an agreement. Very well then. If you shall not give me the cake, I am off.”

“No, no- wait!” Maun hollered. Her limbs were beginning ache. “Fine, I’ll give you it. After you free me.”

“That is good,” Ground Squirrel’s eyes sparked with interest. “Now, if I just move that one…” He set to work. Finally, he untangled her. “Now, for that rice cake.”

Maun laughed. “You really think I would give it to you? No, I think I will eat it myself.” She reached out for the delicacy and tried to nibble at it, when Ground Squirrel clawed onto her arm.

“You broke your promise. You could have given it freely, but now I must take it by force. Very well then.”

Maun screamed as Ground Squirrel bit into her hand. “Get off, get off you filthy rodent!” She dropped her rice cake in attempt to get a stick in order to whack him off, but seizing his chance, Ground Squirrel stole it. “Give it back to me you thieving rat!” Maun screeched. But Ground Squirrel was gone.

Poem: Evening

Purple skies deceive the most watchful eyes

I whisper and listen.

Poem: Midnight

In the dark and silent hours

There is only candlelight from the stars.

Poem: Forest

Upon the earth the fire is red.

The swollen brook releases its shed,

And rain falls; shelters are few or one,

Such as the hollow tree long dead.

Misty morning turns to silver sun.

Crisp night comes when the day is done.

Within the dark, herb and briar grows.

But holly, cypress, pine are none.

Clumps of lavender and wild rose,

Glints out as brightly and bold as those

Sitting near shady bogs and damp roots.

Undergrowth mold, though, it never shows.

Poem: I Saw

I saw a reflection of the summer sky in water,

Threads of light crisscrossing

In a latticework

Of beams.

There was a haze down east

Where vapor was tinged

With violet,

Contrasting against

Strong shadows

And sun.