Moonlight and Geese

Amber lemon moon--
Wavering vee of geese—
Through grey cloudy eyes.

How much longer shall
I see this Fall miracle
In night’s black curtains?

All my friends lie cold
With chiselled stones above
Their brittle bones below

Will I see them again?
In some distant promised place;
Will I recognize their face?

(my hope grows yellow
as the moon. my faith waivers
like a rippling vee of geese.)

---

Crimson Dusk

I drain you in the crimson dusk,
your spread legs white as cherry blossoms...
my tongue soundless in your deep river.

we hear an owl as stars form through
our hot frozen breath.

---

Lock Sweet

your cupped softness...
swells in my rough thrusts --
hard in your hot honey.

you whisper...moan --
arching promises, fierce
and tender as we lock

sweet with come.

---

Meadow Love

Our secret meadow...
touched by your velvet thatch...
stroking my full length,
you kiss my manhood,
swelling among
dandelions.

---

Hope a Clam

I cringe on the edge
of diminished dreams...
my hope a clam --
hard clamped
gut aching.

Aching to make
just one
sandy calamity
a perfect blue
and cool,
rounded-rolling

fragile sphere
of pearl.

---

Adam

Call water wine..,
and wine blood.
Seize my trembling
flesh and call it manna --
solemn sword, holy tower,
milk pillar. Declare it
your stone staff. Suckle,
harden this sweet seed rod...
Bury me in your warm
damp rose petals...

With this thick sudden flood
I sow you
with Eden's sons.

---

Haiku

pink rose petals falling on
girl's moonlit breasts
like blood on fresh snow

---

Haiku

Winter whispers rain
into earth's black ear.
My love swims beneath your skin.

---

After the Party

suburban morning...
underpants...shirt...busted sofa --
naked, tattooed chick!

---

Rainshaft Love

Thunder grumbles on the mountain
an ancient discontent. Sudden wind
moans through Ponderosa pines,
clouds the color of cheap mascara
brooding above Bobcat Pass.

And then...rainshafts slant
into the valley where we were young.

Inside our cabin, my dry, labored
breathing...your warm wetness.

---

Aspen Haiku

Summer. Aspen leaves
flutter like green butterflies --
captive as my dreams

---

Red River, New Mexico 1995

Sun-rain shafts slanting against
the blue San Juan mountains,
Santa Fe recedes in the south.

For hours, I return to my soul,
how many years ago so subtly
spirited to the quaint valley ahead?

Home but never at peace, alive
though absent all joy, I am whole
again only in this sacred place.

Among the echoes of the distant dead --
miners, gamblers, shadowed women --
I listen to my heart.

The road turns at Questa to follow
the floor of the steep canyons to the east,
Sangre de Cristo...the blood of Christ.

Overhead the Northern Cross, pure, unstained --
wheels westward silent as a prayer. The Milky Way
enfolds Deneb in its ancient gauze of pearl.

Soon the first lights from the small village,
tiny points of light in an uneasy world.
My eyes fill and can no longer see the stars.

---

Reunion

When I shook my
Father's hand,
His old strength

Was gone. Both
Our smiles,
Upon meeting,

Faded like echoes
Repeating,
In a deep,

Terrible canyon.

---

You May Call Me a Lover

You may call me a lover
Of candles. Seer of tapered
Dreams, sayer of yesterday's

Sooths, I wane in the
Warm knowledge of wax.
Middle-aged, seeker of

Loves mislaid--does
Anyone, anywhere remember?
At night when the children

Are asleep, I slip into
The kitchen, pour a glass
Of Diet Coke and light

A candle. In the yellow
Flame I see faces. They
Are all there. Elaine

In pleated skating skirt...
Betty Jo whose eager lips...
Linda, who always laughed...

Smiling, smiling, smiling --
As the liquid tallow runs
Down their single, slender white leg!

---

Concentrate On The Bees

Today against the Texas sky
(Faded as a pair of old jeans),
Two trees stood. In the mulberry,

Two wrens bickered over a dried crust:
In the apricot, a congregation of bees
Hummed "Stardust" -- among pink blossoms

Made love. In time, Shannon,
I shall tell you of birds
And bees, remember today, and

Concentrate on the bees.

---

To Shannon

I can still see your toes
Tickling those legless sheep --
Clouds -- plump as pillows.
Kicking toward heaven,
Bound by chains, you swing
In the arc of my holding.

The evening sky is the color
Of a bronzed baby boot, the oak
Tree a grey silhouette.
Like house lights moments before
The play, our small, orange, familiar
Star dims. Now, the bankers,
Accountants, clerks have stalled
Their unholy herbivorous
Machines, and crickets sing
Hosannas to new-mown lawns.

For perhaps the thousandth time,
I catch you at your backward peak,
Tug gently down, send you away
Again, your blonde pony-tail
Straight out like a flag.
When it droops, you return,

Which is the part...I like...best of all.

---

When the Last Lash Fell

red welts ... ivory skin...
tears streaming from four red eyes...
your first cry echoes.

---

Angst

        by Cara

I'm alone
listening
         but not hearing
looking
         but not seeing
touching
         but not feeling
that's how it is
both ways
looking at the world
         through a glass window.

---

The Hiding Place

If I did not allow you to find me,
it was because I wanted to find me first,
and just as our blue planet, moon

swing through stars together --
not touching, bound by laws
immutable as God,

so I went looking for me alone.

In the morning I awoke smelling
honeysuckle, listened to your breathing,
your breasts rising in the remnant of a dream.

I rolled into your satin orbit,
not waking you, felt again the surge...
pull...of tidal waves that told me I

was hiding somewhere inside you.

---

                  Red River -- 1996

      I climb through clouds 
          at 10,000 feet,
   my legs the heart I left below.
     Aspen wave gold coins against
        the powder blue sky.
   Up the crunching trail, a doe feeds
           in a clearing,
pausing to sniff the wind, ears twitching
             her caution.

          Why am I here again?

         Clinging to this slope,
                 mocked
      by lost dreams...shattered hopes,
         I lean forward into my next
                   breath.
         Two crows laugh at me; I curse
           their blackness and throw
             part of the mountain
            into the sky after them.

           There is nothing at the top
               and even less below--
             The memories are halfway.
   It is there we whispered to the white bark
                that first year,
          who we were and when we were,
         then cut deeply into the aspen's
               green living heart
                  a warning...
                 to remember us.

---

Depth

                     by Jennifer


   Breathless, spiraling
    f
     a
      l
        l
          i
             n
                 g
   enclosed, wrapped in warmth...

   letting the depths of my soul
   be opened
   Exposed.
      me m o  r i  e  s...
           dreams...
                   secrets...
   Steaming passions...
   Everything.
   Soothing fingers holding me safe
   A sacred heartbeat.
   Whispering a name
           over
                   and
                           over
                                   again...
   Beloved
           Lover
                   Friend
                           you...

---

(Untitled)
       by Jennifer

Sorrow
Tears
drop
from
the
sterling
rose
tumbling
down
her 
crystalline
leaves
until
it ripples
out
drop
by 
drop
into
a
void
of
loneliness.

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