Hypnotic days
hypnotic nights
our bodies have burnt
all clothes
and several lives

we are
as hungry as the world
as old
as young

our bodies
two motionless stones
in a mountain river

Ioana Ieronim, from *The Lens of a Flame

A clove of garlic keeps vampires at bay
keeps a cold away
wish the lady would stay, but
she goes too.

I'd ban 'flu
man 'flu
nothing new there.

A pillow
to lay low
and under
the duvet, eyes closed
a rainbow of light.

I read Tolstoy
oh boy.....

,,,,spotting a Beano at the end
of the rainbow
I read that as well.

Garlic stinks don't ya think
I don't think at all
as I fall
asleep.

´

You  came to me
as a vision
as a mirage
as soft shadows
landing low

Warmly loving
the hot bouncy
paws
and their
delicate dance
across Dali's

Tangible
soundless motions
obssesive mushy
desserted sands
of time's

Kaleidoscopic
fractal falling

Swirling
back into
the theatre of dreams

Tuning a
migrating
midnight to
those silent, evanescent
melodies
yearning
craving
to be played
once more
and adored on longplays

Spiraling and spinning
in my memory
like a skilled
reindeer wafting
wet air through fresh
nostrils, a defiant elegance
fluttering around as colourful
wings move the magnificent
leap of a sinew lyinx
to tremble
among spring greenery

Got to develop gentle moves.
Silent. Soundless. Elegant.

thunderstorms the soil fertilized by those before
the long score dread of autumn
the killing cold of three months of winter
the bones calcium

the work of maggots
the rotting excrements
the boiling mad wolf growl
the poor rabbit's soul gone

the world spinning around an axis
of the strongest surviving hot gasses
or the moon influencing the rising
fall of tides

mountains of ashes oceans of sediment
the seeds left last year
and those long forgotten
that keep

in their knowledge their inevitability
the genetics the flowering new rose
brightening in the sun
this spring

I have to close my eyes
fold my hands into prayer
what good what shining foil
upon the darkness boiled
gave light to many dark nights
what orb magnificent
comes forth
in ruby red
then shines
with an incredulity.

He pulls away, precariously balanced
above the raucous creek slicing through
the campground’s city-like togetherness

she protectively hovers, hands cupped
inches from his slender back, prepared to grab
honoring his need for independence

the crooked lodge pole leans
toward what little sun is bestowed
upon it by its larger brethren

a mother, a child
a tree, a stream
soft light.

love me
elemental as
wind, water, fire
wild in billowing fields
drenched watery wet in sweat
of all other things make me forget
igniting dreams of lightening steam
all the ordinary world evaporating

I swam the night
to reach the shore
and today with baited lines
I fish for half remembered dreams.

You & me
     are entwined,
       a vine wrapped
    around your
rib; my spine,
your death
   does not sever it,
       I feel the pull
          at night in my
       bed where I
hang off your
every word,
    so much I have
      learnt to dread
        the cursed
   dawn; the way
it silences your
tongue, but this
   light is not for
       long, I wait
          out the day
     to hear your
twilight song

is any man meant to master the mystery
take in his earth bound mortality
the depth of understanding

is man in his strength more bound
by imagination or gravity
in his weakness

is the goal muscle or empathy
or is any question
to be fully realized

or ever answered
why innocents sometimes
are sacrificed

or some days the rain falls
the nights are dark
that life is

hard to live

at times?

In my photo album there's a black and white snapshot from your old Kodak camera. I'm sitting upon your stalwart shoulders with a backdrop of mountainous desert. Upon your height my head is above the hills my smile brighter than the whole blue sky.

I still remember that day. We went to Picacho Peak with a picnic lunch and climbed through the rocks, investigated the arroyos. The desert was alive with wildflowers. I collected some and brought them to you - you named every one.
Bluish-purple lupine. Yellow rabbit's bush.
Orange African daisies. Bright desert poppies. Indian paintbrush, flaring strokes of carmine fire. Pale pink globe mallow.

You have such a brilliant mind, a scientist in love with nature. I think you collected some seed to plant with the cacti in your backyard garden...

I still remember. It was a day that stands like that peak in my memory. The breeze in my curls way up high, upon those mountainous shoulders. It whispered to me of the desert spirits. And our guardian angels sang of the wonders of freedom.

I know you heard it, too.


♡ your daughter,
                   Catherine


SoulSurvivor
(C) 2/20/2016