We can grind our teeth
down to weathered tombstones

together.


Bound by love and sadness,
here we are
the rearguard of the desperate and the anxious -
holding hands
before an ocean
made of all the brakelights in the world.

There's no one I'd rather ignore warnings with
than you.

If you've ever had dreams,
Don't ever underestimate them.
Because dreams are
Just a step away from reality.
And reality is a mere metaphor.
What's real is not real and
What's not real is also not real.
There is no line or border
That his grains of sand cannot cross.
I heard the cartoon dinosaur on the ceiling gossip
That I was going crazy.
But the crumbs of the chocolate croissant I ate in my dreams
Are the proof of my sanity.
I sometimes wish I could have nightmares instead
Because at least in nightmares,
I would still be able to be scared.

i. calypso

in my soul I seek the
calypso
who hides me
from myself
to keep me for herself
against all odds
I seek her
daily
and thus am
lost
to myself

ii. stupa

but this odyssey
now
has other rules
        to lose
        that self of unremitting
        joylessness
        who professes no love
        for me
        who compensates
        with fantasies
        of love unrequited
        who keeps me yearning
        for a ghost in a glass pain
        who keeps me blinded and cold-pressed
        by her charms

iii. belltower

in the rugged terrain
of the soul stands
a belltower
a beacon of measured
tones
sounding for Love
with Love
in Love
of Love

a hermes bell
commanding me back to myself


c. 2017 Roberta Compton Rainwater

perhaps a mirage is a dangling carrot
to keep us ever-seeking

perhaps our bodies are the freedom clothes
for our souls

and perhaps our sanity,
isn’t

sane at all
but a fata morgana

science has proven
the moon to be a

bell ---
hollow and resonant

for hours ---
a seismic anomaly

which sounds
when hit

perhaps science
is the fata morgana

and we are sane
after all


c. 2017 Roberta Compton Rainwater

the weight of seven
hummingbirds -- 21 grams --
is what leaves the body
after death

on that hummingbird breath
the soul leaves
a wispering whisper
of seven tiny, winged cavatinas

being sung back
and singing themselves
forward
into the chorus

to enter again
a melody -- in
the Eye Of God

shimmering
iridescent
wings beating
the rhythm of Love



c. 2018 Roberta Compton Rainwater

she was not fragile like a snowflake.
she was fragile like a bomb.
and i didn't know which was scarier-
                                                        ­  her explosion or her calm.