A runaway model, understated
A runaway goddess

Run a way
Way teeming with costumes of unique styles
Swaying the trend wave of fashion


The catwalk, magnificent
Those eyes, alluring
Your body is embedded in protection like a shell
Oh, I can’t forget the smell you behold
Of expensive fragrances, a sensual spell
But beneath the glamour, a story to tell

I also can’t stop thinking about being in a fashion show
Cat walking like you do
I hope I appear in the limelight someday

Poems are released
In The Round, in full circle,
To come back around.

Follow me
To the inescapable
Matter of shadow
Unerasable
Shivering to escape
Your footsteps
In the sun.
Shape shifting
Always there
Tuned to you
Even as you lay
In the grass
Of a park
Where children's voices
Have their own
Wave length.
Your history of insults
You carry around
Year upon year
May feel absent in the light
But your shadow is
Inescapable.
Like your hand in
The pocket of your purse
******* the seam
Is vulnerable. Tend to it
This Place you fear.
There is no war.
Come out. Reach.
Dance with it.

There was a voice that called deeply in the night.
There was a thickening of life,
that slowed one's inner thoughts.
There was a suspended pendulum,
that ceased its free swing,
and all at once, it seemed,
there was motion in grief.
There was a single drop of rain, that caught the passing days.
There was a forward movement,
and inside the fray of life,
I could feel a light begin to take shape.

-Rhia Clay

min     mal
         i
pr          sm

Stubborn steeled reserve
Grit stone and colder than an ice storm
It’s taken all these fine lines
To curve you into shapes
Tracing fingers along the surface of a smooth face

You keep with your attrition
Battle me for eons
Trample our traditions
But I’ll keep my hands hewing at your ramparts
Until I can see your soul flowing like a river
And who would dare tear your heart from me
If you had the axe, my love, would you hew into me?

Stubborn, but you’re folding
Like a bad hand at the table.
I’ll wager myself for your honor
If you could bluff me with your silence,
Knowing inside there’s a violence
Magma rising to the surface,
And cursing through your words shipped
Erupting from your tempest temper

Is that hard to see?
That these carpenter hands
Bend to the curve of your structure
To make art of your luster,
A statue maker worshipping Athena
Now hew like a great oak
Let me fall away,
Tell me that I’m nothing
When you’re weeping in a steadfast free-fall.

~for Gordon Matthew Thomas Sumner~(1)

my poor battered battler *****, too-many accumulated door dings, broken off pieces
circulating in the bloodstream, even inert artery declared dead, no saving it, that’s just an idée fixe, that cannot be fixed

but no matter misshapen my heart,
and roughly mishandled, it’s a boon
companion, we work together overtime,
falling into love with every third woman
we pass on our walks so regular, and
though many wish my heart to abduct,
no dice, no okay, not playing, for time is
shortened, and there are too many of you,
to longer complete for another, term of
endearment undefined

so many poems to love,
so many to comport and compose,
each a spoke fantasy, a story to unfold,
not forgetting than I am still young enough
to regret skimming to the bottom of another,
and when breath pounding my temples,
swift kick to the atmosphere and do it,
yes, once again…

do not me critique,
paid my dues as a long distance lover~runner, but know-a-days,
best to live love and run,
for measure I,
by what accomplished
by sunset, a reminder
to say eve prayer song,
and accept that
the sum total of my days
is nearer thy god than thee,,
and to raise smiles upon
the least likely, to break a
throw straight line frown
in a U-turned greeting of love,
however brief,
is a worthy goal
multiplied by the rest,

                    the rest of my,
                    the rest of the company                                                       of my
dimming hours