Monday, December 17, 2012

December Fourteen

Banshee in the headlights,
sleek quiver of points bristle -
Fly little arrows fly!
There is no kindness,

in this moment only broken hearts.
No one should find such such a day.

Grendel in the headlights
the growling ache of Saint Lucy.

Her bright party sinks with a mired night
and stars ring the winter sky.
Ashes turn to dust, 
we all fall down.

Cherubs in the headlights
lifting on frozen beams.

No time to say goodbye,
no way to accept surrender,
our most precious forever, and 
we could only promise to be brave.


Monday, December 10, 2012


Be at home in the heart,
who cares what extends beyond your brittle hide.
Home gives space for light,
lets it feather the soft unformed.

Be at home with the hunger,
who cares that we tremble.
Home makes room for mercy,
lets it cushion the sharpest edge.

When you go
follow warmth,
the ochre,
the golden rod,
each umber and ecru,
the endless green,
the lavender and rust.

These signal our songs
and bring clues for what twines
the plucky hours of July with November.

Be at home for the peace,
join its long name:
Mother's milk
First light
Gibbous Moon
Morning fog
Lemon balm
Black dog
Red tide
Oak pollen
Boney night

Sunday, December 2, 2012

Missing Pluto Again

Crowing glory glory, we expected
to float back all together,

even raced to be first
to ford the asteroid riffle.

Like children reaching in glee
fingers and arms wide as

rice paddies, we embraced
the flood of song pouring in

like stardust off the tongues
of dancing galaxies- but we lost

Pluto – even before the chorus began;
before we could ask IAU to reconsider

what makes a planet; before we could
implore 134340  to bring its moon home,

convince it  that turning in a slow whirl
like a dervish around the sun

is better than flying wild with legs
clutching an icy braid of comet tails.

But they don't hear us,
they're already three billion miles

gone and outside we notice
the stars have never been so bright.