Laughing Greedily with Wine in her Fist

The shimmer of my soul
has moved beyond the war of
any obstruction that might be
observed on the glowing horizon
of another weary trail.

The sound of that beating heart
rings out, hums and peals clear
over the tops of trees
and mossy emotion and will not be silenced
into some small cage of ribs.

The locus of this dark and raging love
is simply derived from the Beloved
and is woven with golden threads
of absolute joy.

That hungry friend
laughs greedily
with wine in her fist
and invites her guests
to eat and drink
of the Divine
in each drop
of crimson
and hardtack.

Finding Whimsey After Winter

The momentum of whimsey
is dancing in these warm breezes
and wander like osmosis in and out
of my cells.

Winter traipses away
from my memory like blood washed
with warm water from bandages
and wounds that have been left
covered for far too long.

Healing is found in the earth
and in the whistle found at the wetting
of my parched and cracking lips.

It is enough to know
the song is still something
to be shared.

Elastic Boundaries

The elastic boundaries
of love are no boundary
as you trace my mind
with the fingers of your kindness
and your intelligence.

You trickle this emotional stream
with every tear, giggle, and frustrated sigh.

I am a twin conjoined with the blunt attention
to the flesh woven with a soul
shared and unable to ravel

even if we knew how
to give up on each other.

The sand is no line to draw
impermanent figures

that will only be washed away
with a single, delicate
wave goodbye.

The First Heron

The first heron
has flown across my path today,

the tumbling gray clouds
shook the dust of the winter
out of their cloak

and there he flew
like a slow moth
drunk before the flame.

I stood quiet
as he flapped his inching magic,
cutting the cords of cold,

steady as the tailor
slicing steel blades
through light blue silk.

After a Sudden and Violent Storm

The joy of the day
cannot be diminished
by the minutia of details.

There will be no
amputation of laughter by a serious
morsel of news
or clogging satisfaction
with undigested struggles.

The truth of the breath
taken deep into the lungs
will flush all doubt
into the open air

and leave behind
the joy like a cool puddle
after a sudden and violent storm.

Presage

This is a warning
to all those who wish to detour

The detour will not soothe
or winnow away at the baggage of suffering
you carry.

The detour will only prolong your grief
and drain all the vital juices
from the limited youth you have
on your side.

Apropos of everything,
jettison the daily sins
that were never yours.

Never force your foot
into the boot too small
for your tremulous
spirit. This is a long journey
no matter which way you turn.

The signs of danger
were not an attempt to frighten
the stranger away.

The praises of the kingdom
are only attainable
if you follow the most simple
rules.