memories long past

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a borrowed angel

Passerrines explode from a feather cannon–
an ominous burst more foreboding than a tempest
Endless bits of triangular blue make the sky an abstract puzzle–
coming together or falling apart
Their chattering blankets suffocate my precious morning peace
How do these frenetic creatures hear each other
Does it matter to their tiny process
The starlings remind of a biblical pestilence read about as a child–
invasive species, legged, winged and without conscience
Millions of flapping wings force the trees to sway
How black these birds with their beady little eyes–stolen magician’s opals seeding the sky
Ear-shattering thieves of brightness
To diffuse my peril, I unhook the waking senses
In the empty spaces of my blank, Helen arrives
A borrowed angel
eye-less
ear-less
Quiet now
See her
Hear her
Through dense feathered blinders, she manifests a brilliant blue sky
Flocks enter her sealed cave–
she hears one birdsong above the rest
The plague of starlings brushes low to the ground
Cerulean returns above
The screeching pestilence covers my property
her Speaking hands guide me
her Silent words teach me
to hear a single clear note above the din
to see an emerald ocean above the sea of feathered black
My borrowed angel is a spirit of imagination–
an artist of the senses
I have been both deaf and blind
She has not

Ra

dedicated to Helen Keller

exposing myself

Burbage’s Globe
Aerial fly-bar
Frozen pond
Grassy slope
Low-rent stage in high-rent district
Chipped pedestal
Monkey barrel
Bar
Coffee house
Social media
Lemonade stand
Wet inked
Newsprint
Periodical slickened
Dick Blick canvas
#!*#**!!##**
Lincoln Center
Mind
Street corner
Library room with one transom
Long pier
Short pier
Mountain top with foot-warmer
Dream
Convention hall with stadium seating
Conference hall with folding chairs
Above a deli
Below him
Bareback ride across sunset primed sand
Charlie’s Angels’ intercom
Amphitheater
Anywhere “O” speaks–
or suits with sneakers gleefully dance
Red carpet
Leaning on Harry’s white Steinway as he plays
I wear dazzling white gown in above image
sometimes gown is gorgeous emerald
on rare occasions–blood crimson

Sydney Opera House
Basement studio
a few of the the many places I pretend my words and art expose themselves

I remember now

can’t remember the last time I was in love with earth
witnessing her miraculous gifts
appreciating silent nature
rather than absorbing pixel and pen minutia

stunning my drowsy eyes was this unexpected moment
4:20 am
it was the moon I needed to touch
his large, low gloriously warm pulse in lusty azure
barely cloaked in the fading veil of night
the taffy-stretched shadow of a red sunset maple
stretched across the dark grass
as if she too, desired infinite perfection
stars tucked away in their opaque shells for another night
this was the moon’s moment
my moment
with him
I stood frozen
immobile
and not for the frost assaulting the holes of old moccasins
I peeked through my eyelashes to capture his light
to practice this magic in my mind
committing him to memory
and why I have the good fortune to breathe
etching my soul with our rehearsed minutes
before anxious society attempts to rub my magic out
racing on all compass lines
4:35 am
I remain in the exact same spot
craving forever
knowing the sun will wipe him away
my beautiful moon

wish I could tell you
4:20 am
brilliant gentle fingering rays
enticed me from my lazy bed
the dark truth
4:20 am
my Dachshund needed to urinate

I remember now–
I’m honestly in love with earth

Praying Wizard

Praying Wizard