You can't teach someone to write poetry. All you can
do is to prepare the canvas of their mind and let them
paint whatever they find there. ~Sirens Echo
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Across a sky as hard as concrete
that moon rides above me like a horse.
Cloud wisps as thin as incense.
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Dragon Flight
Streaming through the midnight sky,
her hair flies unfettered, my maid and I,
pulsing wings, her legs wrapped tight,
flying through the diamond night.
She is mine and mine alone,
behind my crest resides her throne.
To wizard's cave, dark and dim,
the mouth too small, she alone goes in.
Peering with great golden eye,
her thoughts are mine, she and I;
enmeshed consciousness, her desire
rages in me, an inner fire.
He enters the light, a bold shape,
I feel her yearn to kiss his nape.
Screaming with fury, wings outspread,
Icy wind whistles my inner dread.
If she love another, and me not,
I lose her life, her inner thought.
The lives of two, complete, bound
when my taloned feet touched the ground.
A curved claw raked across her palm
forever link us from first moment on.
Silver-dew kisses I did place
upon her body, her faint rosebud taste,
No more of mine?
Their legs entwine.
Thrusting up into the sky
her voice a deep, moaning sigh.
Arcing through the sable air,
her golden, wildly streaming hair.
Climbing into velvet skies
sweat glistening on her thighs,
Climactic moment breaks,
my needy body shakes.
Piercing echo calls,
Flaming arrow falls.
"Be calm my love," her voice arrests,
"your tongue upon my breasts caress,
I am of you and you of me,
Blooded together we are not free."
Returned to perch at her hand,
we are marked, an emblazoned brand.
Together now, there are three,
my maid,
the wizard
and lastly me.
^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^
ALONE
Leaves rustle in the breeze,
fluttering like moths' silver undersides.
Her eyes are the storms,
dark and melancholy.
Hair drifting as the seaweed on the waves.
Her pale face is the moon high above,
luminescent and vibrant,
but the emptiness inside,
vast as the moon-washed grasslands,
stretching to the horizon.
Her arms wrapped around herself,
warding against the loneliness.
Wind stirs memories in the hollows of her heart,
and a tear reflect the light of diamond-heaven.
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Wild cat
She runs
as though
her tail were
a mad dog.
She attacks
the chair
a pen
my toes
Softly
talks
to me
at night
my
wild cat.
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Dance
awake
in this embrace
holding my heart
warm shivers
race my spine
tingles with excitement
I tremble.
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Bastet, Cat-Goddess
Rings of gold adorn
pierced ears, nose;
eyes glitter of emeralds.
Whispers from the sarcophagus,
an ancient wind stirs
the dust of centuries,
wrapping around thick ankles
like mummy's bandagings.
Disturbed from the crypt,
in squinting sunlight,
the air is fragrant
with gasoline exhaust.
Frantic workers like
khaki ants scramble
to feed the aluminum Queen,
resting upon the tarmac,
stretching her wings in the
Egyptian sand-speckled wind.
A thousand miles from your home,
spotlights like foreign eyes,
glaring down, faces unfamiliar,
teeth bared and growling.
Night is a repose,
to rest, survey,
the green-gold glint
of your eyes,
speculating.
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Grandfather
The dry touch of your hand
like rattlesnake's shed skin,
rolling across the desert sand,
caught in the cactus spines.
A wren picks, picks at it,
tearing it into tiny shreds
to pad the nest
in the prickly cholla.
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Mr. Chris
Gold eyes roam the grasslands,
quivering muzzle -- to catch
the scent of the long-ears peeking
over the auburn-tipped waves.
Grey-silvered fur rippling,
the pointed black nose moistened --
an evaporation of birds rises,
shrieking mad curses.
Pouncing, paws grasping,
kicking and twisting,
I am the nimble rabbit
who got away.
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Grama
Weeping willow eyes,
gazing from ice-blue pools,
encrusted with thick frost.
The wealth of your belly
stretching the simple flower dress.
An expansive jungle for sugar ants,
I suppose.
Parchment hands,
crinkled maps of your journeys.
A lifetime of Minnesota farm
summers leaving sun-kisses
on your cheeks.
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Hyena
i
Nipping at the flanks of the lions,
BABIES!
They will run if we are strong enough.
ii
Paw caught in the lion's jaw,
pain crushing, laughing at the red-hot
flash behind my white-rimmed eyes.
iii
Circling, furious, yet tentative, hobbling,
gaping rows of incisors,
tearing the thick flesh of a downed zebra.
iv
Lions turn tail,
racing, blood-spattered
through dry savannah grass.
v
Heated rivulet of blood runs over my muzzle,
teeth shearing the musty flesh
filling my belly in great gulps.
vi
Lion eyes glancing,
full of raw hatred,
reflected gold in the distance.
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An Absaroka Night
Wyoming Moon
Desolate beams
Trees of pine murmur
The creek babbles
Horses nicker in shadows
Soft muzzles like kitten paws.
A hand holds mine in the darkness,
The creases of a mouth form a smile.
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Scissors
snip
snip
away pieces of my life.
She sits complacently,
paper falls from her fingers
like snowflakes.
Watching her, expressionless,
a tear falls and shatters,
wind tearing, paper fluttering
in a hurricane.
:::::::::::::::::::::::
Dew droplets on a gossamer web,
Spaced like a beaded chain
So a single breeze
Could shake them free.
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Hmmm… I have a yearning,
A quiet desire,
Expressing itself when I want
To run my fingers through your hair.
Stranger, you entice me.
Your cheeks, slightly flushed
From the cool air.
Silently you enter the room,
Make your way to your chair,
Never noticing my eyes following you.
Absorbing the details of you,
The glint of necklace around your throat,
Your voice comes whisper-soft,
So quietly, I strain to listen.
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Gerizo's Painting
The man sits alone, pondering why
Time bends the strongest shoulder down,
Atlas strains under his eternal weight.
Innocent youth stretches down her ivory arm,
the curling of her fingers beckoning him
to eternity. The warm chocolate cocoa of his skin,
remembering the days before he lived.
Lady Angel, pulling him away.
Afraid, his grasp clings to the slate
gray bench, overcast as a February day.
He looks to the glowing light, smiles, releasing.
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The temperature of intimacy
Taking you home,
I can feel you,
Next to me,
Your heat makes me
Too warm, almost.
I don’t want to move away,
Longing to touch you,
To curl with my head
Upon your chest,
Listening to the
Intoxicating rhythm
Of your heart beat.
But I, afraid of rejection,
Do nothing.
Frozen by the heat
Of your body,
Cannot move.
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Wrangling in Wyoming
Heat radiated up from the parched,
Dusty ground while flies
Pester the sweating flanks
Of the dude horses, dozing
At the split-wood rail.
Sparklingly clear water
Splashes over the rocks,
A hawk wheels,
Spinning through the azure sky.
Fleecy clouds bring no promise
Of rain. I sit on the edge of the tack
Shed porch, the graying wood reflecting
The still air. An occasional snort,
Stamping, Cody reaches for a last strand
Of hay stuck under the fence.
Lucy pins her ears, swishes her palomino
Tail at Annie’s gray-speckled nose.
I absently brush the dry dust off
The brim of my Aussie hat,
Coated, brown over black oilskin,
Waiting for the next ride.
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Spring
Sap jumping up
From the roots,
The buds burst open,
Gasping and shaking
The dew from their dampened hair
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