I Envy the River Rock

i envy the river rock
all edges worn smooth
by the heavy breathing tumble
waves in steady rush
grain by grain
over such patience, time
Purified
in the river's endless hands

yes, i envy the river rock
for my legs, so chapped and pink
stung in the holy cold
of the river's unrelent
all my edges crying out
in gasping chill
beneath my aching
feet, the smooth stones
overcome
i run back to shore

perhaps if i had the endurance
of a river rock
i would stay in the water
let its exuberant cold
wash over me
sacred in its winnow, wave
grain by grain
patience, time
Purified

We Walk On The Path To The Sun

We walk on the path
To the Sun.
No darkness
That will not be
Illuminated.
No sorrow
That will not be
Comforted.
No burden
That will not be
Laid down.
Shadows only mark
The approach of Light.
Tired feet, feel
The warming ground.
We walk on the path
To the Sun.

sleep

he held me
when i shook.
bad dream tremors
hushed
into warm chest.
he held me
when i shook
in the night.
must i ever sleep again
alone?

horizon

horizon--
how stubborn your obstruction
of where this road leads.
you give me but a (vanishing) point,
held in your distant smile,
and all my struggled projections
lead only to it.
why will you not reveal what lies beyond?
why not open your mouth to the
sky, (speak sing)
unfolding all the threads
wound up
(in your throat)
on Time's tantalizing
spindle?
but alas--
you remain but a (silent) smile,
holding quietly the gravity
to which all my movements
lead.

Undone

When you are away,
I come undone.
The rivets and ropes,
Which kept my thoughts
In place,
Loosen and fall away.
The cogs and gears,
Which kept my world turning,
Grind to a stop.
My energies are lost in vast
Expanses:
No direction,
No path.

I am at the mercy of scouring winds.
I am blown about,
Dripping and oozing from the seams.
My heart, once nested,
Soothed,
Flutters anxiously throughout my
Body,
Looking for a way out.

Come back, love.
Make me anew.

The Kitchen Sink

The kitchen sink is broke.
Drip, drip in the night.
The plumber man says he can't fix it.
Snowy footsteps back out the front door.
I stand in the kitchen looking at the sink.
Drip, drip. Pale noon light.
A house so empty the noise like thunderous
Footsteps of giants. Even when eating,
Empty chairs at a table
Three-quarters dusty.
Drip, drip at dinner's dusk.
I pile the dishes in the sink,
All broke as it is.
I'll do them in the morning.
To bed, empty, in house, empty.
Drip, drip in the night.

Bitter Wind

bitter wind
so sour your sting
a million hissing slaps
to chaffed cheeks
why your bitterness?
why your ire?