Wednesday, September 30, 2009
bon-
five eyes- by Walter de la Mare
In Hans' old Mill his three black cats
Whisker and claw, they crouch in the night,
Their five eyes smouldering, green and bright:
Squeaks from the flour sacks, squeaks from where
The cold wind stirs on the empty stair,
Squeaking and scampering, everywhere.
Then down they pounce, now in, now out,
At whisking tail, and sniffing snout;
While lean old Hans he snores away
Till peep of light at break of day;
Then up he climbs to his creaking mill,
Out come his cats all grey with meal --
Jekkel, and Jessup, and one-eyed Jill.
Tuesday, September 29, 2009
kiss the sky-
Monday, September 28, 2009
the moon in four phases-
a chance of rain-
The grey bites me.
It’s a lingering veil in my veins
Sapping life and promise out of me.
Tomorrow when the sun shines I might find
my way again.
But for now,
With my soul hungering for summer,
I sit
Transfixed by the grey.
too-hard basket-
Simple;
Uncomplicated;
Whole and unaffected.
That’s what I want.
Complicated request;
Confused answer;
Application rejected.
Undone-
I am frozen stuck. Can’t undo myself. Or you.
I am frozen broken- no more lightening smiles, or tears of crocodiles.
I am broken shaken.
But, I could be mistaken.
Would you loosen patch- me back up again?
Would you wake and shake- me out of reverie?
I am waking breaking- into a new day and sigh of relief.
I am woken breaking- out into the light of promise after night.
I have moved reached- for the next leap.
I am moving reaching.
Gone.