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Denel Kessler Oct 2015
You ask
to have it all
you already have
the all of me
that silently whispers
I love

a mantra in my head
resting on your shoulder
my fingers tracing words
on your chest
that spell out
stay, be mine.
Denel Kessler Jan 2017
The old songs don’t feel right
wrong key, out of tune
somebody wake Sinatra
reclaim these wayward melodies
My Way, New York
New York

seat of the Queen
a gilded new King
everything he touches

money equals tower
Freudian crystal skyscrapers
the fitting measure
of a brittle man
who has not strength
to speak the truth
recites instead from
a book of fables
the moral to every one
those in glass houses
shouldn’t throw stones

the town crier proclaims
the truth does not matter
no one cares

hold tight that red hat
lest it be snatched
by a rebellious wind
see it now, a symbol
framed in white and blue
rising above the crowd
boots on the ground speak
shiny brass buttons
on a pert military coat
don’t a revolutionary make

the peddler of lies is just
a liar once-removed
“alternative facts”
brash fabrications
with a fancy semantic bow
such a pretty package
such a pretty family
the biggest crowd
in all of history
let the whole world


this most
perfect union
All credit goes to Kellyanne Conway for the term “alternative facts”.  
; )
Denel Kessler Jan 2016
Petite arctic terns
navigate the sky
on epic migration
wings clocking
45,000 miles each year

it seems they know
how to go
with the flow
by thumbing a lift
on atmospheric airways

that crisscross the planet
adding thousands of
seemingly needless miles
to an already
arduous journey

flocks congregate
in open ocean
to rest and fuel up
on fish and krill
for the last push home

these tenacious birds
the cliché
it's all about
the journey

they synchronize
with invisible currents
because to beat
into the wind
is a futile expenditure

they pause
in community
to re-energize and feed
on unfathomable

four ounces
of feather
and hollow bone
instinctively holds
these truths

there is much
to be learned
from an
Humor me...
: )
Denel Kessler Feb 2017
her golden fullness
wanton astride
peaked horizon

impassioned night
bites down hard
Denel Kessler Jan 2016
Beyond the thoughts
that keep us bound
we will fly
though it be fleeting

we savor
the height
while craving
the ground below
it takes both
to make
a soul
Denel Kessler Oct 2016
shallow creeper
blindly seeks
subterranean passage
push and ******
fingered shoots
in compliant ground

purple sword
arcs skyward
a deception
yet to unfurl
gold to conceal
the tangle

in unfavorable
Denel Kessler Oct 2015
Barnacles begin their lives as free-swimming larvae, ebbing and flowing with the tide.  
Most are eaten, some wash ashore, a few survive long enough to attach
with freakishly strong glue their minute larvae heads to a final rock- strewn home.
There they spend the rest of their lives with feathery feet poking out of a hardened shell, filtering the sea for whatever happens to come within reach.

Why the barnacle starts out free
and ends up bonded to some god-forsaken rock
to alternately dry out and be fed at the whim of the tide
is just one of life's many small mysteries.

While barnacles are meant to lead a primarily static life
human beings are not.
We are meant to flow
to settle and ground, uproot and travel
to seek
to speak well and listen better
to find meaningful answers.

We always have the choice to let go
of whatever safe, high ground we're frantically clinging to
though it will mean not knowing where we'll ultimately wash ashore.

Letting go can feel like being caught in a rip current.  
What I know about rip currents:
They pluck hapless beachgoers from shore and pull them out to the ocean deep.  
If you're caught in one and try swimming back to blessed land
you won't make any headway.
Eventually you'll grow tired and drown.

The only way to survive is to stroke like mad
in a totally counterintuitive direction
parallel to the solid ground you desperately want to reach
until you're out of the narrow river ******* you out to sea.

I've decided to unglue my little larvae head
from its rocky, self-imposed, falsely-safe perch.
Let the current carry me where my feet no longer touch the known.

It's up to me to swim in the right direction until I'm free.
Not sure this is technically a poem.  Spoken word?
Denel Kessler Mar 2016
shadow death
the spiraling

silent over
once vital beehive
shorn gray
paper thin

raw honey
in the merciless

the suffering
concentration-camp thin
jutting bone
slack skin

the boundless light
of a shield
wrought from

these golden
futile gestures
they are not
infinitesimal grains

with beaded sight
*do not avert
your eyes
Denel Kessler Jun 2016
Forty-eight floors up, a God’s-eye view

a man practices tai-chi on a tired patch of grass
he is measured, beautiful

families rest under new-green trees
in Yoyogi Park this early spring Sunday

Mt. Fuji rises like a myth, fading
to illusion in the gathering smog.

                                                            A few inches can be an impossible sea

                                                            we sit, silently contemplating discord
                                                            and the meaningless reasons for it

                                                            cherry trees paint the city pink
                                                            while faded petals cyclone at our feet

                                                            tears, fleeting as sakura
                                                            bloom and fall.
Denel Kessler Mar 2016
Chill give sway
to tropic breeze
rain consume ditch
and shallow space

mock spring
frogs, birds sing
fools believe
spring’s arrival

frigid air
soon returns
frost burning
hearts too frail

like the sky
before night
swallows you.
Denel Kessler Apr 2016
I am a borrower
collecting things that shine
all stashed in cracks and hidey-holes
where the rafters meet the roof
in the basement floorboards
lift one and you'll see
the treasures I've collected
two gorgeous glassy eyes
seven gilded antique buttons
a bouquet of sweetly fragrant lilies
a gleaming jar of pixie dust
three noble barristers
an Irishman netting butterfly dreams
a sorceress of the endless prairie
windmills like soldiers all in a line
the saddest porcelain doll
a small brown bear
trains screaming by on underground rails
a sprinkling of desert blooms
six jack-in-the-boxes so I'm always surprised
the hairless stuffed dog that bit me as a child
a Rickenbacker bass softly riffing the blues
a farmer's Ovation to accompany my woes
seashells that sing the ocean breeze
a merman from the Northern seas
tucked away in every space
packed within each sweet hollow
these simple pleasures I have borrowed
Denel Kessler Apr 2016
I choose
not to step out
in front of the
oncoming truck
like some flighty
whitetail deer
beside a lonely highway
flat-lining through the Badlands

I hold the perimeter
respect the irrevocable
delineations of love
honor the ground
that roots
place my trust
in lapis blue
Denel Kessler Apr 2016
I practice Being Peace
out here by The Artist Colony on Hood Canal
collecting treasures and Bright Dead Things
the moon snail nesting in the Flatland  of my palm
a Gift from the Sea carried ashore
on The Torrents of Spring
it may take A Thousand Mornings
to attain a Mind of Clear Light
to transcend earthly Crime and Punishment
to consume knowledge hidden in the Weathered Pages
of this Book of Luminous Things
but I carry on - Skinny Legs and All
Burning Daylight street preaching
The Teachings of Don Juan
"looking, looking breathlessly"
for internal coherence in this
*Brave New World
NaPoWriMo 10
Prompt: write a book spine poem.
Book titles in italics
Denel Kessler Apr 2016

RIP Prince.  Worth cutting and pasting.  I promise.
Denel Kessler Aug 2016
in scorched ground
severed roots remain
untethered tumbleweed
rides the thermal
on a heady rush to heaven
only to drop shattered
on the desolate highway
a once lush landscape
in full splendid flower
abundance freely given
but for one desire
do not let me die
for lack of water
Denel Kessler Apr 2016
putting faith in another human being
creates in me a fear so vast and enduring
it's hard to fit it in one imperfect lifetime
trust distorted by the history of things
done to and by us in the name of love
creates a doubting monologue in my head
that manifests in unattractive neediness
a seemingly bottomless hunger
for the reassurance of your touch
I fervently covet
your singular devotion
show me you'll do anything
to silence this non-believer
with love so constant
and unreserved
I feel it
from the outside
Denel Kessler Dec 2015
Years ago, I traded solitude  
for love’s vital beat
elusive and infinite

time accelerates, or maybe
I finally understand how fleeting
this charmed life is, as it moves

relentlessly toward their leaving.
Denel Kessler Jul 2016
cobalt rain
rides the foothills
mountains conspire
in malevolent
cloud lairs

beneath gray waters
she treads
the warming sea
in constant current
scaled desire

burnished crimson
silver sleek
with ripened need
she lives to die
Denel Kessler Dec 2015
This brilliant morning
anything is possible

we are limited only
by rigid minds
whose fragile confines

can be vaporized
by choice alone.
Denel Kessler Nov 2015
Cold as the morning
cold as my blue heart
we don't have
to hold something
to feel its absence
to know its significance
we are drawn for reasons
beyond our limited sense
of time and space.

Each moment is
a turning point
we get to choose
whether to anchor in
isolation's safe harbor
or tell stagnant fear
to *******
we'd rather live
exposed and free

fill every cell
until brimming over
with all the love
that is destined
to flow our way
even the kind
that defies description
will forever be
the singularity.

We are alive
the ink is still drying
on this page
there are choruses
yet to be sung
love is
come in
out of the cold.
Denel Kessler Nov 2015
Each curl of conversation
stills my tongue, half-sentences
stranded in the mire
of biting reason

words silently form
protests, defenses
reasons and intentions

worthless to ears already fed
with the insistent conundrum
accompanying every attempt
at reconciliation.
Denel Kessler Jul 2017
Muted warning
red-line horizon
submarine morning
a full moon wanes
by nature, earthbound
yet of the heavens
meant to transform

those seeking sky
forget the ocean
how stars appear
upon reflection
celestially untethered
navigating the wild
uncharted reach
Denel Kessler Mar 2016
I recognize
this ground
laced with stones
and poisoned barbs
hike barefoot here

a barren desert
feels like home
when there is nothing
to be lost or gained

I have been here
many times before
stripped down naked
in the noonday sun
watching vultures
wheel and dive

as I dangle
twist and spin
ever the enabler
Denel Kessler Nov 2015
It is possible to change.

Enter the dusky wilderness
in stillness, in silence

moments will open
like desert bloom

brief and luminous.
Denel Kessler Aug 2016
apples lost
to early rot
first blush of red
on mottled skin
a sallow death
sure as sin

crow of night
crowns the branch
boldly pecks
a hole so wide
plucks the worm
from inside
Denel Kessler Jun 2016
the devil does not roam
these blackened rooms
his is not the voice
that booms
and screams
from stage
to wall
in joyous tongues
recounts the fall
then rise to grace
the pulse
of life
that loves
not hates
music flows
from heart to mouth
letting all the demons out
here acceptance
blooms again
and we remember
we are kin
My daughter and I go often to a small club called El Corazón (the heart) to watch the alternative post-******* metal bands she loves. It's a beautiful thing to witness how these young bands and their fans treat each other with such love and respect.  After the attacks on venues in Paris and Orlando, it's not hard to imagine evil walking through the doors of this place.  From my heart to those who have lost loved ones to violence.
Denel Kessler Jun 2016
Ignore the veiled murmur beneath
the social graces and party conversation

excuse this bland ****** arrangement
feigning interest in tales worn thin
cruising the same old Memorial Parkway.

This, and the embedded gravel
marking each grim rotation:


the weight of relentless perfection.
Denel Kessler Apr 2016
We attempt rescue, unable to bear
the stardust-coated dragonfly
beat, beat, beating
frantic on the glass.

We entice him to perch
on our extended lifeline-broom
nurse him in a box, where he flutters
quivers, lies quietly blue.

My son cries bitterly
as we place a minute cross
upon the dragonfly grave
while intoning our final goodbyes:

We honor those who have fallen victim
to this fatal architectural trap, lured
by skylights of enticing white-light death
and the paned illusion of freedom.

In admiration of winged determination
and perseverance in the face of futility
we carefully tend the fragile, curved bodies
lay them here to rest under the mock orange.

years of gauze-weighted detritus
swept beneath these ponderous shrubs
a reminder - what seems like freedom
                                                         ­           often isn’t.
We lived in a house that had outdoor skylights.  Insects would be lured by the light and die trying to fly through the glass that imprisoned them.
I hated those skylights...

Hey lovely poets!  Thank you so much for being a supportive, amazing group of people.  I'm truly honored that you take the time to read my poems.  The Daily is just icing on an already sweet cake.
: )
Denel Kessler Oct 2015
Cormorants face east
to blood-rimmed clouds
holding the morning hostage

they await silver
resonance humming
through weighted bone

wings angled toward
the radiant blindness
of an eternally rising sun.
Denel Kessler Jun 2016
May your passing be quiet
in the beckoning night
may the answers you sought
be divinely defined
let all grievance be shed
to lighten your pace
bless your soul
now released  
all my love
Denel Kessler Jan 2017
Evelina’s fence of lichened cedar
slouches at the wetland border
her willows wildly weep
on silken cattail shoulders
the neighbors say she’s crazy
snidely call her Javelina
she's sane as any one of them
this brilliant winter morning

Evelina speaks of weather and dogs
hers, a Chihuahua named Fawn
mine, a Frenchie named Sparky
the weather, typically Northwest
in parting, sculpted driftwood
spiraling tornadic rings gifted
between palms roughly
worn by time and sea

Evelina’s yard is thick with trees
the neighbors want cut down
for now, she’s doing all she can
just holding swampy ground
each morning wakes triumphant
to beachcomb on the shore
pockets weighed with treasure
this moment, nothing more
Denel Kessler Mar 2017
limbs of the fallen
upon a funeral pyre
failed offerings to a careless sun
the sacred forest lies in ruin
trilliums no more to flower
silence mocks the land
no songbirds in the bower
spires from the wreckage
rise verdant and aflame
magenta resurrection
wild and untamed
Denel Kessler Feb 2017
Mirrored silver
tag me blue
reflective sky
widgeon, merganser
blithely sail
broken ripples

cawing crows
anxious ducks
explode airborne
duly warned
silent drone
fateful wraith

glides over
the settling
razor eyes
the meek
the weak

fleeing flock
white bellies
exposed to the sun
banking hard
return to serenity
certain death

in nature
alliances are clear



no match
for those
against him
True story...
: )
Denel Kessler Jan 2016
The night so long
ships calling
stay away

blindly pierce
at the waterline

engines throb
close, yet not
though eyes strain
soft white contains

opaque outlines
shapes familiar

arise, arise

melted wisps
ascend to kiss
returning sun

will illumination come
with fading notes
of this
fog song?
Denel Kessler May 2016
out loud unsaid
words transcribed
but never read
and all the knots
that came undone
threads unraveled
one by one
lover     family
child of mine
my selfish ways
my pride
Denel Kessler Apr 2016
Waking breath ghostly frozen, clang of ***-belly stove opening, cedar crackles good morning, sap sizzles, pops, melting.  Warmth finds children sleeping, humid air, mouth-breathing.  Smell of boy sweat and feet, young women ripely sweet.  

Cats purring, stirring, padding quiet down stairs, weave meowing through mom's legs.  Dented percolator burbles better days, snap of toast burned haze, molten mush bubbles burst, fade.  Birds early on the highway Paradise-seeking, time, flash-burned, fleeting. Cobalt jay mockingly complains, chickadee sings his own name, coyote wails, thin and plain.  

Children rise, sleep in their eyes, squabble over bathroom prize, eldest wins, click, locks herself in.  Hurry, hurry the bus is coming, ancient driver, annoyed and honking.  Brown-bag lunches crinkled running, feet slapping, seats squeaking, lungs hot and bursting.  Ride the dawn breaking, hearts aching for more than this, rural bliss.

Stop sign flashes caution, young lovers in the back seat, bodies in motion.  Stop, start, sway on down the highway. Engine mimics hot blood lust, accelerated diesel rush, nothing can stop us. You grab my knee - young, carefree.  Brakes sigh and hiss, sneak one last kiss. You mouth - meet me later, we'll sneak out, rush to a future we haven't got, ready or not.  

The old road at dusk, frog song accompanies us, bike wheels on the asphalt hum, forbidden moonlight run.  Feel your heartbeat on my spine, frantic drumming matching mine. Horned owl hoots, forlorn and bleak, a premonition we refuse to heed, reckless with need. In the clearing young love begins, forget-me-knots on burning skin.
Denel Kessler Feb 2016
Robins scurry, heads askew
listening to an underground frequency
smooth rasp of worm skin slipping
through subterranean mazes.

The ever-changing pond
mirrors varied green and clouds
mythical beasts reflect and rest
weary from endless migration.

Eagles ride the wind
fingered wings minutely adjusting
as the current rockets them aloft
on a thermal through the blue.

The heron balanced on a spine of rock
cares only if the tiny fish
silver under the surface skin
will soon belong to him.

Each in tune effortlessly
on earth, in air
never regretting being here
or there.

While earthbound creature, I
am reconciled to a grounded fate
as winter rain lashes the edges
of my ragged, useless wings.
Denel Kessler Jun 2016
I can’t help but mourn the frogs, flattened
like Wile E. Coyote after the inevitable boulder
plummets from a great height, leaving him
mashed on the pavement while the Roadrunner
speeds off -  vroom, vroom, beep, beep.

I try to steer around them, but they blanket
the road in biblical numbers during the rain
and it’s like some impossible video game
weaving through masses of randomly hopping life
a certain amount of death is unavoidable.

When I walk the road I can’t stop
counting one, two, five, ten, twenty
cartoon-flat bodies littering the pavement
where I extinguished their glittering
copper and golden-green existence.

Last night, on the panes of every lit window
frogs of all sizes and colors gathered
outside, they covered doors, watering cans
even lined up single file on the coiled garden hose
like they were climbing the ladder to frog heaven.

Through the glass, I admired their rhythmic
throats and soft, creamy, underbellies
one, two, five, ten, twenty
fragile creatures seeking warmth
in the hastening darkness.
Denel Kessler Jan 2017
She lives in me
a genetic relic
fearsome goddess
strands of vengeance
gifted from the Erinyes
after all these years
trying to disown her
maybe it’s time
to wear her
on the outside
as armor
Denel Kessler Nov 2015
It is possible to live
at a remove so mesmerizing
so glacial blue
the narrow crevasse
opening beneath
your careless toes
swallows you
grinding past - present - future
until there is no you
only time
       a tumbled moraine
                               a shrinking river.
Be well, my brother.
Denel Kessler Apr 2016
jia jia of supple plastic face
gracefully arranged hair
hands that gesture, eyes that roll
a lifelike porcelain doll
docile ****** expressions
perfect height to weight ratio
fluent in English and Mandarin
soothing, well-modulated tone
what can I do for you, my Lord?

the creator's goal
to refine programming
until jai jai can laugh and cry
learn to interact naturally
he calls her his
robot goddess
a wet-dream confection
with none of the messiness
of a full-fleshed playgirl

though she is artificial
and cannot feel
I pity my non-sentient sister
controlled by design
submission absolute
maybe she can fill
the hole left by women
who abandon conformity
to seek being real
*jai jai is a lifelike female robot designed by researchers at the University of Science and Technology of China.*

Shout out to all the REAL amazing ladies here on HP!
: )
Denel Kessler Apr 2016
The world wakes gently today
humankind taking welcome pause
from inconsiderate rushing
unfamiliar faces become fellows
on this travel day we share
a young brother and sister
and their sweetly doting
hijab-draped mother
her smile, the rising sun
sit down across from us
kids munching chips
before an early a.m. flight
the brother got the last bag
of Doritos, his older sister settled
for the sour cream and onion
she attempts to negotiate
a chip for chip exchange
little brother politely refuses
but after seeing her disappointment
grins and hands over the whole bag

the same mother and children
leave the empty waiting area
return to find it brimming
a young father and son
settled, bag-laden, it would clearly
be an inconvenience to move
yet he respectfully stands
and offers their seats
his gesture, a prayer
the young mother
flustered, blushing refuses
profusely thanking him
as she pushes the stroller
toddlers trailing behind
to a less crowded space
our eyes lock, we smile
and I know we're thinking
the same thought
the world wakes gently today
*and it feels good
Denel Kessler Jun 2016
I potted your healing purple verbena
comforting scarlet geranium
never will forget you
pink carnation
the roots were dry
so I added new soil
watered them good
they'll survive

your granddaughter
brought them here
along with "Phil"
the ancient philodendron
he's taken up residence
close to her bed
his elephant ears
spread wide and listening

I thought you would  
be pleased to know
she loaded plants
until the car was full
that she did find
a bit of solace
in the garden
you left behind
* Plants and flowers have symbolic meaning in many cultures.  My daughter brought home these plants from her grandmother's house after she passed.

Purple Verbena: *Healing, Happiness, Love*
Scarlet Geranium: *Comfort, Protection*
Pink Carnation: Carnations in general - *a mother's undying love*.  Pink Carnations specifically - *I will never forget you*
Philodendron: called the "loving tree".  "Phil" is an Elephant Ear Philodendron.

Interesting that she picked these from an entire garden, isn't it?
: )
Denel Kessler May 2016
patterns pressed
in old vinyl
pop and crackle
background noise
just genetic ambiance
old as the blues
smoky aftertaste
blessing     curse
lost fortune
lured fate
lessons earned
the hard way

long playing
at 33 1/3 rpm
I'm humming
no resistance
my will altered
I submit
to inevitable vacillation
accept ambiguity
as sweet song
lyrics unknown
an uneven melody
I can't deny
or disown
Denel Kessler Sep 2016
Indian pipes rise ghostly
from ancient compost
of needled tears shed
white bells corpse-silent
shunning Light’s vital touch
sleeping instead in symbiotic beds
of gracious hosts, who in turn
kiss the feet of living Giants
lushly burning gilded rays
to fuel their green economy
*Monotropa uniflora*, commonly known as Indian pipe, ghost, or corpse plant, are herbaceous, perennial plants that grow at the base of trees in dense forests with very little sunlight.  They feed off fungi that live symbiotically in the roots of trees.  A tree’s ability to photosynthesize fuels this small triangle community.  

I know – I’m odd.  I find these things fascinating.  If you’ve never seen an Indian pipe, search it.  They are rare and only bloom when conditions are perfectly humid, but when they pop up there is an otherworldliness to them.  I’m on a nostalgic mental tour of the flora and fauna of my childhood home and these came to mind.  
: )
Denel Kessler Jun 2016
I love you
like an eternally expanding universe
seen with the clarity
of a thousand Hubble telescopes
your swirling galaxies
artful nebula
tranquil skies
your solid core

I love you
in molten tongues
calling from the void
two nuclear souls
every atom undone
fused together
to make one

I love you
until the thread is cut
my free-falling light
so high on your atmosphere
reshaped by your gravity
a meteorite wish
sweet ashes
to your dust
*In Teutonic mythology, the soul is a star attached to the ceiling of the sky with a thread spun at birth by Fate, represented as an old crone.  Fate cuts the thread at the end of a life and the soul falls, becoming a shooting star.
Denel Kessler Nov 2015
You say
lay down
tell me your needs
two beautiful lines
that perfectly illustrate
what had been missing

until you
held me
the world stilled
and I stopped spinning
finally resting
on solid ground.
Denel Kessler May 2016
Let's talk about heroes
the everyday kind
a Jordanian principal
at a school for girls
offering a simple solution
rather than slamming
another hateful door
in the faces of children
who have done nothing
to create the war
forcing their families to flee
or die in the hateful dust
clouding the world's vision

the school is overcrowded
but when Syrian mothers beg
for their children to be taught
instead of saying     no room
the principal asks each girl
to bring a chair and she will
find room for one more
students walk to school
carrying multi-hued chairs
so many eager daughters
classrooms full beyond bursting
but the principal keeps her promise
none are turned away

a loving heart refusing
to be the lock on the gate
offering instead a key
a mother's simple wish
for her daughter to write her own name
becoming  "maybe she will be a doctor"
a seven-year-old girl declaring
"I want to be smart"
the world begins anew
with open arms, willing minds
perched on the edge
of bright plastic chairs
asking only teach me

*I am hungry to learn
Maha Salim Al-Ashgar, principal of Khawla **** Tha'alba Elementary School for Girls located in Jordan, thank you for showing the world what compassionate action looks like.
Denel Kessler Mar 2016
I dreamed
there was a evil man
searching for wealth
beyond all riches
hidden in the hardened
sculpture of a woman
there was a hero too
I could not see his face
he journeyed to a sacred cave
to guard the precious treasure

he climbed inside
the statue's hollow center
and held the treasure to his chest
where it radiated
with such intensity
he had to close his eyes
it gently pulsed in his hands
calming the anxiousness
leaching sour
in his throat

the villain
shrouded black
entered the cave
a belligerent pirate
yelling obscenities
where are you *****?
when I find you, you'll be sorry
you think you can hide from me?
no one will ever love you
the way that I do

his craven hunger upon seeing
the lost prize glowing heavenly
beneath sapphire stalactites
left this dreamer cold
he began to tear
at the sculpture's *******
with hands encased in forged steel
spiked fingernails slicing
until shimmering gold bloomed
in the statue's chest

zealously the villain tore deeper
molten yellow dripped
from his over-eager fingers
when suddenly from the center
came a flash of scorching fire
the villain dissolved to ash
without a single sound
the hero too transformed
into a luminous bird
not unlike a phoenix

he shook fresh wings
flexed honed talons
raised his crested head
and from hooked beak
there came a sound
like a choir of voices singing
the hero flapped three times
and soared out of the cavern
into the bluest sky
I'd ever seen
Denel Kessler Mar 2016
Ten black crows
in a red-budded
cottonwood tree
basking in the eerie
glow of the waning sun
bruised, livid sky
weighted air
waves shush, shush
on the receding tide
serenity reigns
but I can feel it
hovering offshore
a curled fist
wound tight
ready to strike
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