Or Anything

She raises her eyebrows

and bows to the screen,

safely letting in the air

after the glass pane is lifted.

She raises her eyelids

and glimpses sideways, that

she may catch the animation

from that VCR to screen.

She lifts her hands

and touches her infant son-

becoming in her womb.

And holds his hands in hers.

She raises her upper lip

and lets her tongue taste

the sweet saline drips

in cool collected fear from her glands.

She raises her chin

to face the digital clock

and hammer her raising alarm

and opens her shades.

She raises her foot and leg

and stands to walk her

room. Stands to move

herself, move her blood.

She raises her fingers

and swipers away the

dreams from her eye corners

and pulls her cheeks.

She raises her lungs

and lowers them focusing

on her understanding of

life: breathing, breathing, breathing.

She lifts her hands

and touches where there is

no flower. No bloom, no stamen or stem,

or petal, or pollen

Or anything. She raises her

toes and sets them back on

the blades, so lush and

full she raises the corners of her mouth.

Passion

Beyond that faint thought,

through the meadows and creeks,

I see a monument held

up by the stone. Cold, firm,

Structured to balance the weight.

Inside the visitor center we read

the plaque: "Here inside a man

stands and never sits."

His stoic face traced in grays

and blacks and flecks of silver.

But there still shone just a gleam,

just a spark in his eye.

And with his hand pointed

the sun falling through the cloud,

I can feel his wrist catching

and lifting our star back into

the sky. I too never sit-

as long as I can

for the pocket ticks and

I must rise again.

Dust can't gather on

a monument, and dusk can't

set unless it is given

permission.

Eyes the tongue

Eyes the tongue

Sight tasted. Wasted away

with legs.

Evoluntionary dissent

Serpentine dreams dashed

in a selection process so normal

it was natural.

And with eyes like that

you see we're all evolved,

or else we've bred

with snakes.

Skin pulled to tight around

my lips. Pulled to tight

around this pen.

The mane with black marble eyes

and neck stretched up

to the sky

No need to look any longer.

Birthday Poem

Mum's the word

that we never spoke,

but the allusions therein

of my mother were never silent!

Vibrant rather!

Her cool demeanor and keen interest

kept us alive,

kept us living.

Even though I'll wear shorts

when it's less than 60 degrees,

that is still the benchmark

of what makes a nice day.

She was always calm

and always soothing

and she can listen- even

when it hurts us both

But she knew she had too.

I could thank her forever

for ever she will converse with me,

but for ever for her love, I need not thanks!

Birthday Poem

On those midnight's

when my father worked late,

the war movies always

found a way onto our screen

There really wasn't room for popcorn,

but the blankets made the belly empty.

We had left that basement again

and left the blankets out.

He was tired,

my father, but he was nice.

He smelled like the office

and the way I smell after a long car ride

We could always see that he was taller than our house,

but our home was always tall enough

for no worries, to worry would be foolish

but a fool is one who has known no love.

We saw the flies

crawling along my shoes

these souls long for company anyway

and i don't mind

We were sitting on sofas anyway

when we saw the flies that is

but it wouldn't last long

Sitting on the sofas that is.

For we had a new day to charge

with celebration

yes we did when we saw the flies.

But they couldn't stop us.

The great and black and purple clouds

held the rain back long enough

to see the sun set

and then to sleep

and then we saw the flies.

While we were sitting on sofas.

A place of memory none of which

I've ever shared.

And the serenity eclipses even my arm

and as I feel her rise and fall with each

print of the finger touching key

I sigh and think about the day.

A celebration indeed

for we have risen.

Risen with the flies,

we saw them anyways.

We saw the flies,

crawling across my shoes

We drank our coffee black

and met everyone at that church breakfast.

I've always seemed to think that celebration

was a fine idea.