Dance with me,
under a raincloud,
as sunshine bursts,
like schoolchildren;
leaping through the double doors,
of a rustic brick building.
Flowerpots filled to the brim
with cigarette butts, and bad
decisions, ones made
after dancing on the boardwalk,
as the darkness shrinks away,
for the sun brightens and shakes.
Quivers—the world spinning and spinning.

This moment is holding me still
in a second too long,
in a memory too deep,
in an ocean too infinite,
in a scar too wide,
a hollow too dark.
On a road where I can only stumble
because my legs
were not meant to walk,
because I have not learned
to give up this guilt
gnawing at my heart,
clawing at my arms
because I'm not sure
of all the things I do,
and all the things
you told me not to do but I still did.
But this is the end
and I let the moment hold me still,
so still that I almost feel
my heartbeat freeze in place,
so still that everyone doubts
if I was ever alive,
so still that earth feels like it moves,
so still that I can almost
Almost hear you screaming.
So still that I can almost
Almost feel your heart against mine.
So still that I can almost pretend that I'm alive.

The laughter of leaves
whisper testament
over cool caverns,
ancient moss
the absurdity of clocks
dashed upon rocks
while they dance,
backlit with sunglow,
at the true speed
of life
daring us to defy
the timeless tapestry
in which all are woven
Do stones large and small
not rustle
like leaves
in the eye of the mountain?
and is the leaf not as solid
as stone, to the aphid?
And what lives between
two lover-friends?
It is no brief candle
measured with ticks
on numbered dials
It moves not with the flash
of a single spark
Nor with the slow glow
of dawn
In gentle illumination
it is a soft gentle kiss
drifting on mist,
and it moves
at the speed of love,
with the rhythm of life

Copyright © 2016 K. Rush

songs of wild skies
where the sea’s ghosts
gather wave and mist,
where the dark sea
drifts and the wind
scatters petals
curves the rushing
of a tide that longs
to be free, waits
waits forever to
dream.

In my shining spotlight the rabbit scampers
Across the fields, its bright white eyes, and stops
Crouching in the dewy grass of a foggy night
In the pale-faced cold wind of winter

In the light of the supermoon
In the light rain fog of November
And what is fog?
In the darkness
Something that I remember

The glowing leaves pile up in my pockets
Yellow ones burn like lemon flames, green like pears
They all find their way someday between the pages
Of my stained petal books

And I always find my way
Into the Moon's light,
Where blue sea laps softly on smooth stones
Of the shore
Of the skin
And the silence
Of the night

i will take you to the piano hall, with the pink walls in the bad part of the neighborhood
we will sip rosé and slow dance in the sweaty gym
you will speak soft, and ill fix my hearing so i can appreciate you