Footpaths
Such a miracle:
the first steps of the cormorant’s flight
taken over water.
That first step heavy,
the second lighter,
and the third scarcely a paint brush
pocking the waves.
The need to take flight
lies deep within me.
“Journeyman,”
the Spanish poet wrote,
“there are no footpaths
across life’s sea,
just a wake to show
the way you came.”
Like a ship at sea
or a seabird over the waves
I leave white water in my wake
to show where I have been.
Sun and Moon 11
nochebuena[1] – a star spreading crimson fire
girasol – bright mirror to his golden face
colibri – hovering on a whirr of wings
am I less than a flower or a bird?
if my fingers could grow feathers…
if my face could sprout petals and leaves…
hollow bones whistle a sad song
the sailor lost at sea
the wanderer asleep in foreign soil
both far from home
[1] Nochebuena / Poinsettia; girasol / sunflower; colibri / humming bird.
Two Gnomes
Two small gnomes
have set up camp
in my lungs.
All night long
they play their squeeze
box, wheeze box concertinas,
never quite in unison.
Sometimes they stamp
their feet and dance.
Their wild night music
catches in my throat
and I cough up
unmusical songs
that splutter and choke.
An east wind blows
outside my window.
It whistles and groans
as it herds the stars
from left to right.
The stars chase
the westering moon.
The planets dance
to the rhythms
of the accordion music
playing in my chest.
Comment: Raw poem, raw sore throat. I wish this flu on nobody. And yes, I had my flu shot, so the flu bug probably mutated and created a version just for me. This is also an “I need sympathy poem” so, moan and groan … splutter and cough, breakfast’s ready and I’m off.
Sun and Moon 10
Sun thrusts his fierce face
through night’s dark window
his voice booms out like a golden gong
“What have you done with my child?”
curled and flaming his orange corona
head lucent with a coronet of radiance and fire
his eyes sweep night beneath day’s rug
New Moon pales and fades in a corner
Serpent escapes through a crack in the wall
Sun and Moon 9
Old Woman walks within a cloister of stars
the heavens arched above her like a peacock’s tail
she chants the garland of her rosary
pearls she sheds from her cratered eyes
stringing them like counters across night’s throat
beauty she calls forth
beauty fresh and youth renewed
flushed with virgin pride
she steps into her jewelled boat
and sails across a sea of crystalline sky
she enfolds the cardinal’s wings in a cage of moonbeams
“Sing!” she whispers
she rocks a new born baby in her arms
the night is hushed with lullabies
Sun and Moon 8
draped across night’s blackboard
stars and constellations all erased
my black angel bruised by the dark
the world’s feathered wonder reduced to shadow and ash
what dreams are these?
feathers against night’s window
an angel of darkness descending a steep stairway
tumbling through the night
who’s dreams are these?
Sun and Moon 7
Old Woman weaves a crinoline from stars
she plucks roses from the void and turns them into haloes
nochebuena blossoms on the perfume of her breath
the cardinal’s song is a crimson voice hidden among leaves
mercurial in the moonlight
Old Woman coils her relentless cage
one by one the cardinal’s tunes are imprisoned
a butterfly impaled on a moonbeam
the last note of his song
Sun and Moon 6
“Wake up!” says Serpent. “Knock!”
I knock and the door swings open
Old Woman sits spinning at a ghostly wheel
she draws me to her with a string of starlight
I squirm on the fishhook of her eyes
when I blink I fall gutted to the ground
herringbones knit me a tangled destiny
lost people wandering in a tapestry of dreams
as I read my story in the sky around me
Moon scythes my heart into tiny slices
a fishbone slides stitches into my side
dice click
two snake eyes stare into my eyes
Sun and Moon 5
dusky shawl of a knitted dream
wrapped round my shoulders
I pick at knots of tangled memory
a word as sharp as a stone
cast at a friend
sea shells cutting
naked feet
at the water’s edge
sunlight
weeping blood
over mother-of-pearl
Old Woman winds
a ball of wool
she handcuffs my wrists
with softness
spun from lambs
my hair turns silver in her mirror
snakelike I slide into my dream
slipping sideways
deep dark well of night
Sun and Moon 4
night without moon without stars
dark sand dropping
filling my mouth
I walk the lonely bed of a dried up river
when I stumble in my dream
my feet leave no footprints
colourless is my path
through shadow and sand
figures of darkness
conjured before me
hollow their eyes
their mouths black caverns
no flesh decks their bones
footless they sigh
a sibilant song
mindless they draw in
a net full of sorrows
silver fish darkling
losing their sparkle
