Feeds:
Posts
Comments

Posts Tagged ‘vignettes’

at the cliff’s edge
the earth falls
through giddy space 
to clammy sands
sunlight spears the steel wool clouds
and blazes from gunmetal curls
brined winds press me back
with death-cold hands

hot anger fills me
magma of rage
ready to spew forth
and boil the sea below
as I ponder the choice between
a hateful god
slayer of the young
and no god at all

humanity
we are
upright beasts gifted
with massive power
over nothing
with dreams of eternity
circumscribed by birth and death
we are
ephemeral
mayfly deities
standing at the verge
in sight of the distant shore
ready to leap
to fly
to perish
on a solitary sojourn
that has no arrival


Read Full Post »

I was three years old—it seems a world away, now—sitting in the front room, looking out the big window.

Our house on Oak Drive was a two-story affair on the uphill side of the street, and from my vantage I could look down on the massive junipers that bordered our small yard. When I played beneath them, they would tower over me, reach for me with scented claws, and dust me with clouds of pollen so that, when Mother called, I would come inside covered in red weals, begrimed with a patina of yellow, and redolent of resin. (more…)

Read Full Post »

Today
I turned aside
from tragedies and trials
and sought instead
quiet marvels.

Today
I heard the winds of Mars
a thrum felt in the feet
a whistle filled with loneliness,
and heard Tesla coils singing
of sorrow and shame
in a house called
The Rising Sun.

Today
I saw a phoenix
rising in auroral hues
across Arctic skies,
and saw bridges of fire
Strombolian rage
spanning the Sicilian night.

Today
I felt the warmth of the sun
captured in the cat’s fur
as she slept by the window,
and then felt fingers go numb
as I worked outside where that same sun
provided light but no heat.

Today
I tasted watercress,
crisp and green and sharp and cold
fresh from my garden,
and tasted the salty age
of succulent panes
shaved from a joint that spent years
in a Spanish cave.

Today
the world holds more wonders
than we can possibly imagine
but they exist if we choose
to seek them.

k

Read Full Post »

———

the cat and I eat twice a day

I serve her before myself

a rule I learned from a rabbi

and she finishes her meal

before I even sit down

covering the leftovers

with invisible leaves before

returning to the maintenance of her fur

or to toy with a dirty sock

panther-dragged from room to room

as she mutters disconsolate subtext

I used to think the rabbi’s rule was meant to instill

respect for our animals

a lesson in responsibility

empathy for those in our care

but now I understand

it’s merely to avoid

her judgmental eyes

———

Read Full Post »

In the center of my front room is a table. On that table stands a single vase with a single stem on which is a single bloom.

A rose, the first rose of the summer that is yet to come.

From purple to cerise to pink, the outer petals open to reveal their brethren, rank upon rank, unfolding like Mandelbrot origami, endless, hypnotic to the eye.

A single rose, a flower that can fit in the palm of my hand, and yet it fills the room, side to side, top to bottom, three thousand cubic feet, with the scent of honeyed apricots, sweetened cream, dappled sunlight, and the longing of ancient empires.

Read Full Post »

sparrows greet us
escalating commuters
as we rise to the surface
grey-faced warriors
morlocks in the dawn
they sing to us from
guano-stained signs
hopping word to word
to teach us their lyrics
of sunrise and birth

bird-sparrow.jpg

Read Full Post »

I don’t want family
I don’t want friends
I don’t want a community

I want a world

A world where we all treat each other
like members of the community
like dearest friends
like cherished family

I want a world

k

Read Full Post »

Older Posts »

%d bloggers like this: