08 April 2013
cloud curtains veil
the mountain ranges before
the coming misty rain
el sol's arcing passage
across cornflower sky
river ice stretching bank-to-bank
mallard ducks surf hole
snow angel silhouettes
between footprint squeaks
brilliant white hush
07 April 2013
We are waiting for a rain
maybe some decent snow—
any kind of moisture here below
that’ll soothe the ongoing strain
of this arid valley’s parching pain.
Our dreams filled with overflow
yield the same thin river we know
and longing hopes still wailed in vain.
We are yearning for wetness
to return into the daily living
we tend to overcomplicate.
A something to cleanse away the mess
and to rehydrate with flush forgiving
our crumbling hearts about to desiccate.
06 April 2013
If he’d not already spun over in his grave, Pa
would have cast his blame-filled eyes at our
ineptitude and our ill attempt.
Framing fence fractured. Headstone fallen.
Piss, pies, and hoof prints mucking
the columbines we’d planted o’er him
because they were his, “tranquility blooming.”
Emptied Jim Beams strewn about not erasing
the knowing we’d never meet Pa’s expectations—
our best forever short, intentions never enough.
Though three years passed away this day,
we still put off the necessary, the dutiful,
lest we confront still once more again,
our old man’s glare.
05 April 2013
With the Flow
As the water launches o'er its cliff,
May I fall into the Muses' trance.
No hemming nor hawing,
No looking before the leap.
No questioning my safe arrival
to ground-level below.
04 April 2013
Assessing the properness
of the gifts I've been graced,
Against the sturdiness
of my sense of unworth.
You called me, Poet
leaving no room to wiggle,
And, O sweet Almighty
the crashings of my heart.
Seemed as though my home
was being poured a new foundation,
And with newer bricks and mortar
its bearing walls more strongly shored.
Called me, Poet
as though plain and utter fact,
And, oh such exquisite mendings
these frayings of my heart.
03 April 2013
dusted by off-and-onspringtime slushy snowfall