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Mellow the sea tide inching in
nibbling the shoreline
swishing kelp and swapping shells
stealing footprints
and time.

A lazy pen crawls the page
lapping gradually from margin's line
an inky gull's opportunist eye
scavenging the scene
with a rhyme.
she chewed through my ribs
& attached me to wings

subsistent, pretending
I don't need a thing

she pushed through my body
propelling a shriek

her hand fits me close
& her sleep fit my sheets

but I'm done with she's perfect
I'm shrinking in blinks
& I'm sick of this
balancing stilts built on dreams

& I've stopped all this tripping
my shoes are on tight
but I'll  
fall asleep
hoping
you slept good tonight
>|< Julie Butler
I am from a pencil, from words, and paper.
I am from the two bedroom, one floor home.
I am from the roses, and the sun.
I am from homemade coffee and depression, from Bonnie and Charlie and Christopher.
I am from the anxiety and denial.
I am from not throwing things and not living life in fear.
I am from Angels surrounding, and Omnipotent protection.
I'm from Hartford and Greenwich, statesmen and viscounts.
From the pain in their eyes and rage they expressed, and the ignorance of men.
I am from the wall where the past hangs in frames.
From pictures of possible better times, yet maybe not any greater.
From pictures that may be of worse times, hidden behind these smiles.
i.

in the air
the sweet flow
of a bird.

ii.

drawn, perfect blossom,
the wind that refuses to settle.  

iii.

november’s fine golds
melt like clouds.

iv.

i burn for your kiss
like a bird that stays
with a boat
my lips seek your lips
forever.
 Nov 2015 Dreams of Sepia
Mosaic
The night crawls under my skin
Fever delirium laced with heartbreak
in the cracks of my chapped lips
I let down my walls
Now kite drifting away like balloon let go
You were the walls of this maze called home
fog blanket me into Limbo called fever delirium hot and *****
icecream cone by the fireplace
defy the logic
cut the shoelaces
defy the logic
jump and walk on the sky
defy gravity
Swallow the whole **** ocean
Do the impossible

Have *** demand icecream for breakfast
throw punches in the street
Do drugs you don't know what they are what they do how they can hurt you
trusting abuse like a unicorn but it's just a horse
hear the dragon roar
Underneath the bed you make love on
your friends are sometimes the monsters
Spilling the probation all over the floor
Realize he's not sleeping next to you
He doesn't love you anymore

You can tell she hurts
Lives away from home
Digs teeth into words like wounds will heal like they are stitches
Fall for boy in coffee shop
Leave dream boat to pursue reckless thought

You give leaves
He gives you hope
Helps your lighthouse at sea float
Secretly as you sleep inside the sun
When your lighthouse work is done
He paints over the stripes
He thinks it is like the love story of your mother and father

She is angry with a tiny clustered house with the smell of her smoke filled lungs
He paints every room like reversing time
But it's all pretend, just men being men

Let the leaves burn
Steal the words from books
Cut them out
Cut your heart out
And try again
 Nov 2015 Dreams of Sepia
Charlie
It is the season of
wiggly toes in wool socks,
witty novels and obscure films,
raindrops,
silver against the night sky,
And despite the crisp air,
an overwhelming feeling
of warmth.
It is the season of
warm feelings
that have no objective,
but only,
to feel warm
when my toes
meet yours
in a lucky accident.
Small secret moments,
no more real
than in my heart
and in my head.
The verdure sphere beckons me
Behold, your sweet sweet name
Descending the ladder of the chatter box
Like a blooming daisy withered by neglect
A music box impaired by inactivity
Down, and down it goes
It's not supposed to bother me
But, I hate that it is so
A Birthday Poem for Sally B:
what-matters-can-neither-be-created-or-destroyed

~~~

the principal thing about principles,
like the concept of time,
that in time, with time,
they come to reflect our
immutable essence's own best reflection,
come only, round or square
come only, too little too late
come, too much too soon

so the simpler, the better,
so the matter
of what really matters
needs capture in some
capsulated summary form,
a daily vitamin for the soul

so I thank you for
the gift
of your birthday,
the anibersaryo of a day of naissance,
this one solo, kakaiba,
among the many,
a present presented to the world

*so on this particular day,
we must thank you
for the wonder of wonder
that justifies existence,
for what truly matters

cannot be created or destroyed,

and your matter, mass,
your presence's  Grace upon this earth,
graces the hearts of thousands,
today and forevermore

this is what matters and
can never be recreated,
can never be destroyed...

~~~
Oct. 24, 2015
6:24 am
dispatched from NYC
~~~
Oct 6, 2013      October 20, 2013
The Banyan Tree (A Tribute to Sally)
I am a man, grandfather to four.
Adherent to the same religion,
Poetry.

Breathing through mine eyes,
Exhaling carbon words,
That with time and pressure become
Poems, verbal musical notes upon life.

Each motion, from tiny to grand,
A capsule of expression,
That if examined under microscope,
Familial DNA, interconnected tissue,
Discovered, tho logic says,  
Time and distance render impossible.

But this is a diamond
This is a writ to be slipped
Upon the finger, the heart, the essence,
Of the only Banyan tree I have hugged.

This poem but a fig,
In the cracks of kindness,
The crevices of caring,
It has slow germinated.

You dear, Sally,
My host,
A building upon I can lean,
When wearied spirits uproot
My surficial composure.

Your seeds carried from east to west,
By a fig wasp, a bird unknown,
An ocean voyager, of indisputable vision, strength.

This seeded messenger, word carrier,
Supplanted in me, and your pupils,
Jose-Bolima-Remillan
Xavier-Paolo-Joshh-Mandrez
Whose very names breathe poems,
in others too, like me and Atu,
Seeds to become new roots, but you,
Our Host official and forever
Planter of trees of loving kindness.

You already know with love and affection,
I call you Grandma Sally,
And when you ask, beseech,
I cannot refuse.

Together we will will banish the sad,
Acknowledge we, that life's ocean,
A mixture of many, even sad, a necessity.

But I promise that will turn it into
Something simple, something good.
For you have asked and I answer you
Right here right now - your wish,
My objective, deep rooted like you,
Like an old banyan tree,
Your roots spread far, spread wide.

So some eve, when to the beach, to the sky
You glance, smile, no matter what, troubles dispersed,
For the reflection of you, seeds, full fledged trees now,
Bending skywards, in search of your rays of expression,
Your maternal wisdom rooted, spread so wide, globally,
All over this Earth, is visible from your
Beloved Philippines.


---------------------------------------
In her own words..

I am a widow,
with five remarkable granddaughters....
all beautiful, intelligent girls.
It is such a waste not to write....
each morning that unfolds is filled
with things to write about....
the people, the birds,
the trees, the wind,
the seas,
everything we set our eyes on,
they are all
poetry in motion.
Life itself is poetry,
I always have pen and paper within reach.
My past experiences are a
never-ending source
of ideas and words for my poems....
I shall write until time permits me,
"til there's breath within me."
-------------------------------------------------
A banyan (also banian) is a fig that starts its life as an epiphyte (a plant growing on another plant) when its seeds germinate in the cracks and crevices on a host tree (or on structures like buildings and bridges). "Banyan" often refers specifically to the Indian banyan or Ficus benghalensis, the national tree of India,[1] though the term has been generalized to include all figs that share a characteristic life cycle...
Like other fig species (which includes the common edible fig Ficus carica), banyans have unique fruit structures and are dependent on fig wasps for reproduction. The seeds of banyans are dispersed by fruit-eating birds. The seeds germinate and send down roots towards the ground.

The leaves of the banyan tree are large, leathery, glossy green and elliptical in shape. Like most fig-trees, the leaf bud is covered by two large scales. As the leaf develops the scales fall. Young leaves have an attractive reddish tinge.[6]

Older banyan trees are characterized by their aerial prop roots that grow into thick woody trunks which, with age, can become indistinguishable from the main trunk. The original support tree can sometimes die, so that the banyan becomes a "columnar tree" with a hollow central core. Old trees can spread out laterally using these prop roots to cover a wide area.
i.

autumn’s leaves
scattered in pools,
a cloud of fine gold.

ivy scented skies
break free.

ii.

trees conjure dreams,
flow like a night breeze.

iii.

the sun is remote,
the fires of a wild sea,
damask shores
where we sink
to the floor....

iv.

sink further,
where quiet walls and skies
pierce our yearnings,
uncover a naked flame.
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