Hothouse

a red
tomato splits
upon my lips, so red
the lipstick melts where wine cannot
wash it

Dedicated to Adelaide Crapsey
(9/9/1878 - 10/8/1914)

Unforgettable

she was
afraid to be
alone, she sensed the end
I tried to be there, but she was
alone

Garage Sale: page 7

Dallas, Texas: The First Garage

"Curtain Call"

The plane
screeches at wind;
singing props unwind sound;
wing flaps shudder, the tail expels
cargo.

Ladies
suited in blues
wait at the door, holding
caps, catching kisses blown toward
the passengers ushered
down the metal
staircase.

I see
through grated stairs
puzzled ground; gingerly
down steps, my child-full mother
                                        trips--

Now in
curtained corner
spare, white, mother there, laid
on metal table, tended by
white dresses dressing scrapes,
knee, elbow, chin
in gauze.

I gaze...
I hold my breath,
I touch, with finger tips
I tap the top where cotton cloth
hangs down.

a break in the clouds

at last
a face to match
my face, a reflection
cupped within cusps of the moon, I
nestle

Baba Yaga

she holds
the pestle, shaped
like man's part, a rudder
to take her mortar wherever
she wants

Small Stones: Day 17

today
I toss a stone
the silent ripple forms
I ride it into the sunset
of dreams

Small Stones: Day 2

the dust
of yesterdays...
discarded hearing aids
collect weighted sighs and release
cloudbursts

The Wanderer's Wonder

What lies beneath?
The plaid kilts swinging
While heads down
Not revealing
Eleven pipers stave off
Truelove

Dash Away, Cupid!

silk strewn

in ballroom’s midst

women whisper to ten

tall Lords, knee deep in the softness

"Spring forth!"

In the Lady's Chamber

preferred
was the foie gras
or goose down comforter
to the half-a-dozen layers
of geese

the nature of things

birds glean
between raindrops
seeds of nevertheless
take root between torrents, I knead
the bread

smokey

chimneys
billow below
clouds take notice and puff
bellowing without the dark gray
flavor

Tongue in Cheek

a tongue
coiled spring ready
to taste the last nectar
Canada's fall sunshine is
not here

Happy Thanksgiving Brian and Chen-ou!

Doves

quiet
sighs, the wind's tears
when wings caress no more
sweeping clouds lift up their curtains
searching

This cinquain is in response to Brian's lovely on Kirigirisu's 9/29/11 post.

blind sight

unbind
my eyes with loam;
tightly lids of clay melt
in Siloam's rinse, set them free--
selah

lilies

swallow
indigo tails
gold rushes free in streams
till tickled free from petaled cusp
laughing

Feeding the Mass

crumbs sip
the red wine, full
to feed the fish, returned
from water's trials to spawn anew
living

Misereres and Miseries

sometimes
Hallelujah
buzzes in the fly's mouth
"Beelzebub" drops from its tongue
instead

my tongue
sticks to the roof
of my mouth as I search
for the Hallah and uttered words
from G-d

The Beat

blessings
be attitude
inheritance is ours
kingdoms belong to poor spirits
Heaven

Earth falls
meekly sweeping
stars in its path, our feet
battle the beat; soiled soles linger
aching

good mourn
childhood days when
comforters covered beds
apples from the tree un-bidden
Eden

righteous
food tastes bitter
where is the apple now?
empty, the well of our souls wait
thirsty

plowshares
hold back the crop
merciless man reaps death
future tenses at the peace dream
walling

the wails
cleanse the face, not
the eyes cloud, the skies rail
frozen tears, the hail that makes us
look up

children
peacemakers, all
grow under thorny plants
poked and prodded, crowned, soon sodden
people

yet beat
the message grows
planting something hidden
till the proper time when justice
blesses

whose fault

is it?
advancing lines
soldiers of the earth's crust
urging the globe to shrink and spin
faster