Some important Omens
Spill
From open mouths
And open souls.
Portents splayed.
Not from animal viscera
Nor rolled bones,
Neither from celestial maps
Nor Tarot.
Some important Omens
Spill
Like waterfalls
From cascading eyes
Tear-tethered heart
Searching the vitals
Of love drawn.

Splashing water upon my face
in the early morning’s rise,
A mirror’s espy laps into gaze.
Gurgling down the drain, spent cleaning and awakenings
Left me not wise, but shortly exposed.
Looking into the mirror, Reflective wonts return the perceived,
I just, just supposed.

Now awakened flesh and soul
(eclispe) bright heart trumps dark hope,
Thoughts transformed into welkin roar.
Furnaced lit splendor raze sullen dreams and blacken thoughts
sunder lope light’s birth disclosed.
Beaming from the mirror, the torch igniting the sleepy,
Now dawn light transposed.

Towel freeing face-flung water
Cotton flailing clouds not veiled
lifted faith emancipated by kind hopes
so longingly gleaned. Morning struck its anvil - Awake!
A morning’s blessing not failed, and soundly reposed
Soft cloth quells the torch, mirror signing a start
Night rightly interposed.

The water laps the dock
Giving sweet nose, bay redolence flown by the cracking whips of tuffed air,
Listen to the roiling and embrace the soaring perfume
Drumming the song of the deep against the old trees, now pilings
Old trees now legs
That want to kick and splash and enjoy their  ***** neighbor
And run into the depths
But are sadly anchored .
Hear the tern’s silence broken
while the fish break chains of water entrapment
Breaking surface, momentarily flying and shattering back home.
Splash, they all splash.
Splash the tree, splash the silence, splash the sky
Splash is the serenity
Splash is the soothing commotion of the dock.

I walked into a room
Peopled
Their confluence a paisley print
Impeccably placed
Cheek to cheek
Eye to *****.

Auras pulled and taught,
Twisted,
Moored and strained,
Frayed on the brink -
Begging, pleading to sail,
To be borne onto nature’s ways.

I walked into a room
Vacant of life
Shoulder to breast creatures
Spoke to No One and, only
Thought of distant barren shores.
Trill and fussy, surrendered
Invincibility was ripped asunder.
The waves licked the rocks
While singing of
Disasters looming.

My basket beaming
of harvests
from sun scorned labor
I sit
in the shade
thinking of Spring’s
soft caresses,
of Spring’s potential, complete.
My timepiece,
the dried and splintered
wheat fields
swaying to the iambic
emphasis of Summer lost.
Teeth sink into the last ripened apple
and I savor this year’s
last whift of honeysuckle
and clover.
As the winter’s seed is sown
I sit
in the shade
nodding at life’s labors
unfolding.