Dusk Thoughts

April 20, 2012

I’m on a walk tonight

Trying to satisfy the stirring restlessness

In me.

It’s not helping,

Cause everything reminds me of

Home.

The drifting, cool air

Breathing on my feet,

And the California sun

Disappears to the next horizon

Leaving me in

Dusk.

Dust

On the lilac leaves

And their pure purple scent

Sweeter than anything I could capture.

The happy screams

Of the little

sun-kissed

Pigtailed girl

Running free

With her brothers in tow.

The lulling sound of train on tracks.

Always going the same direction.

The white rose

Being kissed by the rosy light

Leaving for the night.

The heavy

Green

Air

 of newly mowed lawn.

I remember hide and seek,

Barefeet,

And the call to come in.

What could I give to hear that call

One more time.

The call to come  home.

To go to bed,

Safe and sound

Under the careful love

And tender tones

Of her voice.

I’m torn.

Open.

Needing.

Wondering.

So this walk didn’t help.

But I can watch the reaching arms

Of the orange trees

Give a friendly goodbye to the day’s last night.

And say goodnight

To the moon that isn’t out tonight.

And Pray

From my heart

To His.

Asking Him to give her a hug.

I’ll be home soon enough

To do it myself.

After my long allotted years are lived and loved,

And the stops along the way have left their

Marks and misses. 

That's the next time I'll hear

that call to come in. 

and it will be so sweet and welcome. 

Sweet Nothings

Sitting here
with a handful of grace
that I hold onto with all my might.
Trees and flowers
fill the air with their own kind
of gracefulness.
the almost summer sun
is almost warm enough.
but the chill seems to linger.
in the air and me.
the stars have sung their lullaby to the moon,
and the clouds are still dancing with the light.
I just want to let myself be.
Be here.
yet the countdown is still ticking away.
Apathy waiting.
cheering from the sidelines.
I'm determined that I'll never leave
these seaside tidal pools of peace.
The sound of my own voice
echoing back in sweet nothings. 
their search mission for desire
returning back just so.
whatever may be next, is hiding around the bend
like the road split in two.
My compass swinging
here and yesterday,
bringing me to a new found place
of being where I want to be.
Silky green,
Strawberry red,
and the black and white of long roads...
that don't go home. 
where home isn't, anyways.
So I'll just sit here,
let the warmth kiss my skin
and wait.
with my handful of grace.

A Thousand Words

April 5, 2012

So you say
A picture is worth
a thousand words.
I think of the picture of us
and how it's taken ten thousand words
for me to make sense of it.
the Poet has it a thousand times harder,
 you know.
an artist takes a blank page
and turns it into
swirling madness
that somehow makes sense to you.
People may look at it someday and wonder what you meant.
at least they'll care.
the poor, stifled artist,
 like me.
She takes what she sees,
and it makes no sense at all
in visual form.
colors
taking up my vision,
 and the blue grey swirl
surrounding your memory...
clouding
raining
and making a storm
of a calmy sea.
It builds, that storm,
inside of her
Until through a downpour
of salty thought
it torrents out of the soul
onto paper.
one word,
then ten.
a page
and on.
until the emotion is clearly painted
as if with oil or watercolor.
my canvas being thinner,
the longer lasting effect of labor.

A Postcard to Unfaithful Walls

4-1-12
Your words
like postcards from the past
arrive on the doorstep of my dreams.
silly and frilly
among the daisies laughing heads,
soft and mellow
alongside the steady breathing
animals and scents.
Each one signed with
your sparkling
Laugh, and a windblown kiss.
Each foot tread
echos now
with a warning ring.
They're forgetting,
 and I don't know how
to remember to forget it myself.
I'd rather it be gone forever,
then be the last one holding on.
When I told you I was moving forward,
I didn't really mean it.
Or I didn't want to.
I just prayed you'd be proud.
Prayed you could see that my heart was
yours only.
But...
It's all gone now.
I can never go back and let myself drift.
to pretend that it's still all ok,
 and you're right around the corner
in your favorite rocking chair
reading a book to your baby.
But I know I'm being silly.
Silly Dream.
Silly me.
I forgot that 2,000 miles away is a place
that still doesn't get me any closer to you.
I forgot that the emptiness you left
is being filled with strangers.
who don't know or care
who's memories they're walking on.
I guess the walls that held me
will hold them too...
unfaithful things.
I want to pound my fists
on their strong protective
chests. 
To be bought and sold
like they don't breath like me.
And silent still.
Not saying a word in my defense.
those windows saw it all, too.
they knew my pain, my shame, my nights
and days.
they carried my tears
as I watched you leave
and as I waited for you to come back.
Day
after
week.
year after year.
Blind, silly hope.
So maybe that's where my dreams come from.
it's just the reflection
off the back of my eyes.
trying to rid my heart
of those days.
But something is holding on.
they're catching somewhere in the labyrinth of  my chest,
ripping.
tearing.
wrapping around my lungs and heart
until I scream myself awake.
they're still in there.
Stuck.
Lost in the maze.