"deltas" poems
were we looking
for the feminine
of our soft hands
no questioning
the nature of daylight
is wonder, we feel it
in our touch
we know the ancient art of
cartography: love memory
death quivers deltas of tears
we taste the starvation of breath
the magnitude of gratitude
we kept the drum of hearts
alight to catch the waves of time
Anna's drum summoned Shiva,
the master of shiver
the god of blood
carrying sage scent in our hair
forgotten paths in our shapes
pink lotus flowers in our wombs
bold desires in our feet
tales of flames in each scar
we recognise each other
greet with a soul reverence
across time across space
we forgive ouselves
our betrayals violations
of a feminine truth
we wait for the men we love
we set ourselves free
from the spinning wheel of pain
we receive
we keep
what is alive
what is dead
still not born
in refused bodies:
the possibility of
kindness
we are women
we are dancers
we sing fiercely,
gently from the
chest of the moon
Feb 6, 2023
Feb 6, 2023 at 2:42 PM UTC
I was with the ocean last night and your body
Was its vessel, overflowing. Words were frail,
Drops indwelling about the shapeless sky,
Water reaching for its own height and breath,
Like touch, were as desperate letters exchanged,
Endlessly read, until like loamy vellums, they
Disappeared in our hands. Inklings of tide-
Pool and driftwood.
My blood was a river that ran
Its course. Members feeding your deltas and birds
Breeding where the water-russet sheds on pampas
And inverness. Eyes like wing through ever—
Green, empties the fossil shell. Fire, brimming
Mountaintops that were, for countless millennia,
Sleeping. Did I mention that the earth moved?
No? Her displacement was involuntary.
Then came the waterfalls, lifting throughout
Time. The scent, searching for its identity,
The wave, calling to its own name— Ocean,
O— cean. And flowers, opening like galaxies
In the after-light. A universe of face and hand
With hunger for salt-rain and then the cloud
Burst-blue and spilt and spun more redolent,
Deities, in joyous creation.
I breathe, in your ocean, like a child unborn.
Jul 3, 2012
Jul 3, 2012 at 7:30 PM UTC
the zombie has opinions about nutrition
but lives off of tasty urban debris
the zombie is standing on the beach
whipped by grey
watching the waves roll in high
the zombie is on the computer again--
where nobody knows he's a zombie
the zombie seems to be listening but is looking at his phone
the zombie is not a joiner, so don't be uncool and ask
though he might join and then drop out, which just proves
joining was pointless in the first place
oh definitely the zombie likes to go down
the zombie bites the hand that feeds him
the zombie does not mind poison if it means saving money
the zombie is against bad things.
the zombie is not a sheep.
the zombie is dying of loneliness but can't ever seem to connect.
the zombie is spreading deserts
and drowning deltas.
the zombie is standing up for what's right, on facebook.
the zombie knows that *** is safer than alcohol
and it makes him safer
the zombie feels guilty sometimes but ultimately
not personally responsible.
the zombie is tired--not enough sleep, not enough brains.
the zombie doesn't need you,
he just wants you,
when he sees you.
ahem: the zombie wants you for your mind.
the zombie is free.
the zombie embodies Csikszentmihalyi's state of "Flow."
the zombie may have made you one of his kind,
you will never know because
zombies don't know they're
zombies.
Oct 7, 2014
Oct 7, 2014 at 8:29 AM UTC
.
Rose of your ear,
Lantern in your eyes,
Forest of branching hair,
In Inverness of your midlands,
I shall broach lit vernal deltas,
Kiss deep into darkling depths,
Climb the leaved trunks of thigh,
Drunk in the moisted, muted sighs
Of promise, tendered to surrender,
I shall know your ripened *******
As bloom of moon paints moons
At night, I will be ****** in milk—
That offers itself to leeching babe,
With little, lithe fingers you rake one,
A wan vagabond, ***** homeward,
I shall know your flowing wetness,
Below my desert, with purpose,
I am lost, in sleep and dream,
May I never wake, may I
Sleep, never, may eye
Always open, keep
In tableaus of oil,
Strokes, hues,
Glittering
Of you.
.
Nov 23, 2021
Nov 23, 2021 at 5:42 PM UTC
I was with the ocean last night and your body
Was its vessel, overflowing. Words were frail,
Drops indwelling about the shapeless sky,
Water reaching for its own height and breath,
Like touch, were as desperate letters exchanged,
Endlessly read, until like loamy vellums, they
Disappeared in our hands. Inklings of tide-
Pool and driftwood.
My blood was a river that ran
Its course. Members feeding your deltas and birds
Breeding where the water-russet sheds on pampas
And inverness. Eyes like wing through ever—
Green, empties the fossil shell. Fire, brimming
Mountaintops that were, for countless millennia,
Sleeping. Did I mention that the earth moved?
No? Her displacement was involuntary.
Then came the waterfalls, lifting throughout
Time. The scent, searching for its identity,
The wave, calling to its own name— Ocean,
O— cean. And flowers, opening like galaxies
In the after-light. A universe of face and hand
With hunger for salt-rain and then the cloud
Burst-blue and spilt and spun more redolent,
Deities, in joyous creation.
I breathe, in your ocean, like a child unborn.
Oct 18, 2012
Oct 18, 2012 at 12:39 PM UTC
Rose of your ear,
Lantern in your eyes,
Forest of branching hair,
In Inverness of your midlands,
I shall broach lit vernal deltas,
Kiss deep into darkling depths,
Climb the leaved trunks of thigh,
Drunk in the moisted, muted sighs
Of promise, tendered to surrender,
I shall know your ripened *******
As bloom of moon paints moons
At night, I will be ****** in milk—
That offers itself to leeching babe,
With little, lithe fingers you rake one,
A wan vagabond, ***** homeward,
I shall know your flowing wetness,
Below my desert, with purpose,
I am lost, in sleep and dream,
May I never wake, may I
Sleep, never, may eye
Always open, keep
In tableaus of oil,
Strokes, hues,
Glittering
Of you.
Mar 22, 2015
Mar 22, 2015 at 4:22 AM UTC
Once, I was gifted the brightest jewel of all the wide worlds wonder
It shone for me with a brilliance, as it had for no other
But in my foolishness I cast this priceless jewel away
And as it fell t’was broken, the light scattered asunder
Now, it will not shine for me
And so, I stand in darkness
The bitter pain of watching its warmth shining upon others
As my own space dimmed, to dark and ugly colours
But it was I who cast the jewel that broke, and made itself anew
Stronger, fairer, brighter than the untouched jewel that I once knew
Still, I cannot bear to see
And so, I stand in darkness
A jewel so bright, many have sought to bask in its fey light
This is no earthen gemstone, nor star that graces the night
Most, too foolish to keep it shining upon them alone
A jewel set in the breast of artwork fairer and brighter beyond sight
Woe, it shines the least on me
And so, I stand in darkness
A darkness I would have flee from unforgiving fire
To burn the earth and all the heavens until I’m alone
To end this world with fell flames is to what I aspire
And watch the gods despair, at the crumbling of their thrones
Yet, I must not turn ugly
And so, I stand in darkness
Anguish will never wear such a resplendent face, as the one that I shall paint it
Despair will be sung truly, in a sweet melodic guise
I shall mould regret into a bolt of ruthless doom, enamored with a purpose
And pen loss in lustrous tales, to gild a readers eyes
All, done with some subtlety
And so, I stand the darkness
To sound a scream which rends the land, leaving a scar behind
To cry deltas flowing back through past deeds, flooding that frame of mind
For it to nourish life, of a beautiful, and evolved kind
Thus emptied, to float up and admire it from above, weightless, and refined
Though, I must tread silently
And so, I walk from darkness
Finally I saw the truth, after I was told a lie
Delivered into the blinding light, I was left wondering why
Why I was cursed with the folly to commit the greatest of life's crimes
Why I must now see sense, and what has passed me by
Still, t’was a choice made by me
And thus, I’ve burned with darkness
Never, never, ever again, to break such fragile, precious things
Nor walk with tactlessness, or tragedy in my stride
I'll shine with luminescence of thoughts and deeds most high
When some facets of that young boy, have finally, truly died
My own jewel shattered, with minds eye open wide
Now I understand, this allegory of dark and light
Sep 16, 2013
Sep 16, 2013 at 6:53 AM UTC
The memory of her sits on a balcony ledge, cigarette in hand.
My green light at the end of a dock.
And this time I am reaching out
like many before,
in pages and poems past.
Macbeth’s face is a book.
Her body is an atlas
tracing a beautiful continent.
Follow the long tributaries that lead to shallow deltas.
This shore begins softly and forms into slender feet,
quiet but powerful when outstretched an angler waiting for prey.
Odysseus, only, can hear this Siren play.
Follow her legs, those tawny plains,
unbroken, guiding along welcomingly,
inviting curiosity and conscripting imagination.
An oasis.
And her torso is a valley from which
her laughter is ****** upward and resisted until uncontainable.
Dimples break and burst like earthquakes.
A ridgeline is all that awaits until we see her face.
She is the Americas from bottom to top.
Follow her decorated canyon mouth
but know it is merely a diversion.
Her eyes are icebergs, which shyly reveal themselves
to sink ships and drown lovers, for always.
Her hair is aurora borealis,
the northern lights,
dancing colorfully
to an unaccompanied waltz
heard by everyone but her.
As the memory of her sits the smoke billows around
like clouds traveling down a coastline
only to dissipate
and disappear.
Jul 31, 2013
Jul 31, 2013 at 3:23 PM UTC
---
the roots of
the deciduous tree
-
become
-
the wind barren
branches
-
become
-
the veins of the
leaves
-
which fall
-
into the streams
which become
rivers
-
which become
deltas
-
which feed the
oceans
-
which create
rain
-
which feeds
***the roots
of the
trees
once more***
soulsurvivor
(c) 5/17/2015
May 17, 2015
May 17, 2015 at 5:23 AM UTC
.
Rose of your ear,
Lantern in your eyes,
Forest of branching hair,
In Inverness of your midlands,
I shall broach lit vernal deltas,
Kiss deep into darkling depths,
Climb the leaved trunks of thigh,
Drunk in the moisted, muted sighs
Of promise, tendered to surrender,
I shall know your ripened *******
As bloom of moon paints moons
At night, I will be ****** in milk—
That offers itself to leeching babe,
With little, lithe fingers you rake one,
A wan vagabond, ***** homeward,
I shall know your flowing wetness,
Below my desert, with purpose,
I am lost, in sleep and dream,
May I never wake, may I
Sleep, never, may eye
Always open, keep
In tableaus of oil,
Strokes, hues,
Glittering
Of you.
May 9, 2017
May 9, 2017 at 1:54 PM UTC
I was with the ocean last night and your body
Was its vessel, overflowing. Words were frail,
Drops indwelling about the shapeless sky,
Water reaching for its own height and breath,
Like touch, were as desperate letters exchanged,
Endlessly read, until like loamy vellums, they
Disappeared in our hands. Inklings of tide-
Pool and driftwood.
My blood was a river that ran
Its course. Members feeding your deltas and birds
Breeding where the water-russet sheds on pampas
And inverness. Eyes like wing through ever—
Green, empties the fossil shell. Fire, brimming
Mountaintops that were, for countless millennia,
Sleeping. Did I mention that the earth moved?
No? Her displacement was involuntary.
Then came the waterfalls, lifting throughout
Time. The scent, searching for its identity,
The wave, calling to its own name— Ocean,
O— cean. And flowers, opening like galaxies
In the after-light. A universe of face and hand
With hunger for salt-rain and then the cloud
Burst-blue and spilt and spun more redolent,
Deities, in joyous creation.
I breathe, in your ocean, like a child unborn.
Sep 17, 2013
Sep 17, 2013 at 11:40 AM UTC
.
Rose of your ear,
Lantern in your eyes,
Forest of branching hair,
In Inverness of your midlands,
I shall broach lit vernal deltas,
Kiss deep into darkling depths,
Climb the leaved trunks of thigh,
Drunk in the moisted, muted sighs
Of promise, tendered to surrender,
I shall know your ripened *******
As bloom of moon paints moons
At night, I will be ****** in milk—
That offers itself to leeching babe,
With little, lithe fingers you rake one,
A wan vagabond, ***** homeward,
I shall know your flowing wetness,
Below my desert, with purpose,
I am lost, in sleep and dream,
May I never wake, may I
Sleep, never, may eye
Always open, keep
In tableaus of oil,
Strokes, hues,
Glittering
Of you.
Sep 21, 2015
Sep 21, 2015 at 3:40 PM UTC
I was with the ocean last night and your body
Was its vessel, overflowing. Words were frail,
Drops indwelling about the shapeless sky,
Water reaching for its own height and breath,
Like touch, were as desperate letters exchanged,
Endlessly read, until like loamy vellums, they
Disappeared in our hands. Inklings of tide-
Pool and driftwood.
My blood was a river that ran
Its course. Members feeding your deltas and birds
Breeding where the water-russet sheds on pampas
And inverness. Eyes like wing through ever—
Green, empties the fossil shell. Fire, brimming
Mountaintops that were, for countless millennia,
Sleeping. Did I mention that the earth moved?
No? Her displacement was involuntary.
Then came the waterfalls, lifting throughout
Time. The scent, searching for its identity,
The wave, calling to its own name— Ocean,
O— cean. And flowers, opening like galaxies
In the after-light. A universe of face and hand
With hunger for salt-rain and then the cloud
Burst-blue and spilt and spun more redolent,
Deities, in joyous creation.
I breathe, in your ocean, like a child unborn.
Mar 1, 2013
Mar 1, 2013 at 11:14 AM UTC
Her love is like a Minnesota river,
Still only on the surface, and only in the winter
My love is like a maple on the shore
That waits to be fed by your waters and constantly wants more
I don't need to tell you where or know whee you go,
You're gonna do what you do and be beautiful so,
Don't let me stop you,
Just flow river, flow
I know it's impossible to keep you dammed,
Your waters will swell to keep moving and I'll lose your hand
See you're made of water and slippery after all
But you're always there on the landing and soft when I fall
I wanna grow into your deltas, shade your shores, give you love,
My leaves fall in your waters, you surround and give the best hugs
I could never stop you, and I won't try any more,
I'm just a maple in the autumn waiting to wade into your shore
I'd kid myself thinking you're not a different river every day,
But at least I always get a new you before I have to let you flow away
But in a tiny little puddle in my roots you'll be remembered for a while
I know that I'm not as tall as I want yet, and you're not nearly the Nile
But still you'll flow to different places and I'll stay here the same
I'll always see you shining in the current and hope to feel you in the rain
Her love is like a Minnesota river
Still only on the surface, and only in the winter
My love is like a maple on the shore
That waits to be fed by your waters and constantly wants more
I don't need to tell you where or know where you go,
You're gonna do what you do and be beautiful so,
Don't let me stop you,
Just flow river, flow
Oct 23, 2012
Oct 23, 2012 at 6:21 PM UTC
Lofty mountain paints the scene,
Trees and bushes fill the green.
Crispy voice of birds chirping,
Humming sound of bees churning.
Alluring oasis thirst quenching,
Reflecting rays of sunlight so soothing.
Choice of flowers wide-ranging,
View of blooming flowers bewildering.
Streams of river meandering,
Forming deltas so encompassing.
Smell of sweetness so filling,
Sense of freedom enlightening.
**** sirens and charming nymphs,
Carefree gypsies and quixotic imps,
Alas, but none can be compared to
Mother Nature, the Beauty Queen!
Jun 28, 2012
Jun 28, 2012 at 2:01 PM UTC
.
I was with the ocean last night and your body
Was its vessel, overflowing. Words were frail,
Drops indwelling about the shapeless sky,
Water reaching for its own height and breath,
Like touch, were as desperate letters exchanged,
Endlessly read, until like loamy vellums, they
Disappeared in our hands. Inklings of tide-
Pool and driftwood.
My blood was a river that ran
Its course. Members feeding your deltas and birds
Breeding where the water-russet sheds on pampas
And inverness. Eyes like wing through ever—
Green, empties the fossil shell. Fire, brimming
Mountaintops that were, for countless millennia,
Sleeping. Did I mention that the earth moved?
No? Her displacement was involuntary.
Then came the waterfalls, lifting throughout
Time. The scent, searching for its identity,
The wave, calling to its own name— Ocean,
O— cean. And flowers, opening like galaxies
In the after-light. A universe of face and hand
With hunger for salt-rain and then the cloud
Burst-blue and spilt and spun more redolent,
Deities, in joyous creation.
I breathe, in your ocean, like a child unborn.
.
Aug 18, 2018
Aug 18, 2018 at 7:46 PM UTC
New nature feeds off those words of temporal happiness,
Leaving behind the misery of poets
To lingering moments of waking in solitude.
Yet, they build in my pulse
Till I find I have been sitting in the shower
For a heavy hour
Disguising lonely deltas.
Eternal ancient mirrors reflect my body falling back
Into the man made rain
Letting droplets hit me on the fontanel
Unable to let them in.
Cause one day all this will only be a memory
And why would I want to add to this heavy pocket of lost history?
This morning my breath
Reached a moment of actuality.
I felt compelled to leave the rain
And start my day with the closest star.
There you go darling,
Rip Grecian suns from the garden of
My soul and let dead trees
Be stained with our love.
Oh god,
The motion has only begun.
I must know that love has privilege
In its pain. the only way to
Truly leave solitary water
Is to accept our flaws
As artistic talent.
Each stab of passion has given me
The tools to create
A portrait of our past attempt.
But I fight this epitome. Seeing your
Face brings anger to my
Persevering smile. I am made
Ashamed of my own inflicted violence,
Destroying my desire to hear your internal maps.
This only leads me back to
Rain and I am caught in
My contradictions.
So, I let my desert skin
Take in the water yet again.
But this time
I don't bend my knees
In prayer to our hope.
I swallow the liquid,
Tainted with the blood of city pipes,
And feel my pulse jump out
Toward the lucent droplets
Of some faithful future.
May 3, 2013
May 3, 2013 at 11:03 PM UTC
Have you ever met someone
that makes you want to grab their
hand, turn it over, and
gently press your lips
into the soft part
of their wrist,
tenderly scarred and
rich in its
flowing deltas of blue veins,
beautifully alive.
Someone who you want
to hold, hold
their shaking existence,
through the rain,
clicking on the windows
of their ribcage,
through the silent
light of spring,
hard dark
of winter.
You would give
your head and your heart,
to see the sun shine on
the easy curve of their cheeks,
lips parted in a smile
like the dissolution
of ice.
Jan 14, 2017
Jan 14, 2017 at 1:08 AM UTC
^¡^
^¡^
^¡^ ^¡^
as we floated
over the high desert in
New Mexico the color splayed
out like river deltas and sunshine
collected in the hairs of our arms
so high were we that Sandia Peak
couldn't graze the bottom of our
gondola. Then we saw it. A
wee butterfly lost on the
updrafts! Trying to
catch it I almost
fell out of the
\ \ / /
\ \ / /
gondola
all I saw
was a flit
of wing
and she was gone.
Feb 7, 2015
Feb 7, 2015 at 1:55 PM UTC
Rose of your ear,
Lantern in your eyes,
Forest of branching hair,
In Inverness of your midlands,
I shall broach lit vernal deltas,
Kiss deep into darkling depths,
Climb the leaved trunks of thigh,
Drunk in the moisted, muted sighs
Of promise, tendered to surrender,
I shall know your ripened *******
As bloom of moon paints moons
At night, I will be ****** in milk—
That offers itself to leeching babe,
With little, lithe fingers you rake one,
A wan vagabond, ***** homeward,
I shall know your flowing wetness,
Below my desert, with purpose,
I am lost, in sleep and dream,
May I never wake, may I
Sleep, never, may eye
Always open, keep
In tableaus of oil,
Strokes, hues,
Glittering
Of you.
Dec 30, 2014
Dec 30, 2014 at 10:47 PM UTC
This is a quick note
informing you that I
have enrolled
in "your geography 101."
I look forward to exploring
you from sea to shining sea,
your fruited plains,
your mountain tops,
your golden fields of sunlit grain,
your divided highways, causeways,
and often spread a luscious lunch upon the apron of your back roads.
For extra credit
I plan a thesis on your deltas,
spelunk your caves for glistening jewels,
swim your lachrimal lakes,
and pray that you keep me after school.
Jan 13, 2011
Jan 13, 2011 at 7:42 AM UTC
I was with the ocean last night and your body
Was its vessel, overflowing. Words were frail,
Drops indwelling about the shapeless sky,
Water reaching for its own height and breath,
Like touch, were as desperate letters exchanged,
Endlessly read, until like loamy vellums, they
Disappeared in our hands. Inklings of tide-
Pool and driftwood.
My blood was a river that ran
Its course. Members feeding your deltas and birds
Breeding where the water-russet sheds on pampas
And inverness. Eyes like wing through ever—
Green, empties the fossil shell. Fire, brimming
Mountaintops that were, for countless millennia,
Sleeping. Did I mention that the earth moved?
No? Her displacement was involuntary.
Then came the waterfalls, lifting throughout
Time. The scent, searching for its identity,
The wave, calling to its own name— Ocean,
O— cean. And flowers, opening like galaxies
In the after-light. A universe of face and hand
With hunger for salt-rain and then the cloud
Burst-blue and spilt and spun more redolent,
Deities, in joyous creation.
I breathe, in your ocean, like a child unborn.
Mar 1, 2014
Mar 1, 2014 at 1:08 PM UTC
Deep in the shines
Of cobalt blinding suns,
A cold traveler is bound, lost,
With only pointed starry night
As print to slow circumnavigations
Of her ****** heavens, visions scope,
Cardinal points are ever reaching
Towards ancient regions of nether,
Pharohs deltas, negations and delight.
Twin stars searing, burning, burst—
And in the exploding nebulas of iris,
Celestial oceans of aquas rise, cries—
Eternal blue laid of cerulean skies
Outreach and reel, lot vacuums vast
To outer lands, riding stars chariot,
With such spacial years of light,
Only in eyes of her.
May 10, 2013
May 10, 2013 at 2:26 PM UTC
*Searching For Balance
In all my journeys
I have looked for balance,
the life forces that make sense
of a world gone mad.
These ripped jeans,
faded flannel shirt
and worn out moccasins
remind me
of dusty country roads
and deep forest green
lost to barren,
colorless wasteland
and seas where
whales have forgotten their songs.
Along this path,
I have looked into countless faces,
seen hollow eyes,
empty souls of meaning,
and unfocused meandering.
My animal spirits,
wolf, owl and hawk
talk to me of defeat.
“We are a lost,
defeated tribe.
Here, but hardly alive.”
So I continue this search
for understanding
balance
often waking from dreams
thinking I will still find your
warmth lying beside me
in my bed roll of desire,
your gentle, open smile
caressing through my hair
in long ago memories
cascading down my heart.
These worn out moccasins
no longer know which way to go.
They climb me mountains
where there is the bitter taste of snow,
down into valleys of unknown,
flowing me down rivers,
over their tall waterfalls
and into the deltas
of dead seas.
In all my journeys
I sought balance
in the world around me
and in my heart.
My spirit animals are right,
everywhere wasteland,
a tribe defeated
here, but not alive.
No balance in my heart
just the empty ache
of missing you-
your warmth,
your gentle touch,
your kiss.
Aztec Warrior/redzone 8.28.16*
Sep 11, 2016
Sep 11, 2016 at 10:03 AM UTC
There were rivers
Streaming down her face
Great deltas in which he swam
Till he reached the shorelines
Of her wounded eyes
he stayed in the rim
Just out of sight,
In the curve of black
Where the day kissed the night
She could never see him
And he could only hear her pain
Her agony in loneliness
It ached for them to be apart
But he knew it was for the best
He could never reach her
But he thought if he might
It would be in her dreams
Where the day kissed the night
Feb 21, 2017
Feb 21, 2017 at 2:05 AM UTC