Hour 14 (2020)

a mountain stretches far into the sky

above a sleepy austrian village.

in worn-out sneakers and an oversized hoodie,

a tiny sillhouette chooses to dance with it.

They begin a slow, trudging walz

the girl goes around and around the mountains dirt base

through the stones, and through the trees,

and past a secret lake that sits stellar and placid in the summer sun.

The dance speeds up, now an agressive tango

as the ascent steepens and the girls legs ache with peril.

Yet her dance partner encourages her to push on,

lending the proper molds for her tiny feet to climb up on

until she reaches the flower beds at the mountains summit

and feels awakened to the world around her

Hour 13 (2020)

early in the morning

when the first dogs and their owners grogilly patrol the streets

I wrap myself in a pitch-black flag and set out to taste the day

erratic laughter, dizzy skipping, twirling in the wind

freaking out the neighborhood;

planting a kiss on an old lady’s cheek

giddily gifting tulips

barking and howling at everyone and everything;

 

then stumbling back up my building’s stairway

hunting down the morning’s first cup of coffee

 

 

Hour 12 (2020)

One afternoon the last week in April*

I sat and watched a flourescent world unfold outside a bus window

it was the world I lived in, yet it was unfamiliar to the shaken husk of a person

piloting my body into my apartment under my sheets

and into another night of anxious torment.

soon the violent poltergeists of trauma pounded mercilessly into my sensibility,

a frail and precious creature just learning to walk,

until it was reduced to Hello’s, Goodbye’s, and How are you’s,

incapable of telling one from the others.

This fatal cycle took hold from that afternoon in the last week in April until a morning in the last week of July

It was then that my sensibility had recovered and I rose a new woman:

naked like the day I was born yet plenty more scarred

ready to return to the flourescent world to which I belonged

 

 

 

*first line from Axe Handles, Gary Snyder

 

Hour 11 (2020)

Where she lays her head

on pillows, on desks, on grandfathers chests

in grass that grows tall, on dolls and in shawls

to daydream or sleep, to write or to eat

I yearn but to tread where she lays her head,

so that hers may now lay next to mine

Hour 10 (2020)

Angelic confidence in times of doubt

optimism in the face of defeat.

The philosophizing of naivety; or maybe the true strength of our humanity

to perceive reality as we choose and draw consequence from it

even when the tides of external interference wash over us and threaten to

collapse our entire psyche; that there can and must be hope

Hour 9 (2020)

Fireflies dancing on the treeline

swarming towards the cottage on the horizon.

heat permiates the forest, and they soar with its sweltering rythm

it pounds them down untill they are reduced to lethargy

Hour 8 (2020)

little pictographs on a screen

packaging meaning into its most miniscule form.

why complicate things?

there is humour in the obliterating meaning with the intent to simplify it

fast food conversations that go stale

or maybe communication is asking too much of them

for expecting meaning sacrifices whimsicality.

 

Hour 7 (2020)

Season of the Songbird

nestled in the tree by my window

her performance schedule is quite particular

but when the warm wind of a summer evening brushes through her wings,

the neighborhood rendered silent:

flushed-out street lamps and a shade-splattered landscape

she lifts her head and spills dulcet tones into suburbias fuzzy sonic ambience

her repetoire sinks into my recollection of the day and reflects it into the night

I take from it what I can

whats left dissolves into the sunset.

 

 

 

Hour 6 (2020)

Stumbling through the city

uncovering urban treasures

seeking refuge in its green enclaves

taking in its scents

weaving in and out of crowds

observing stills and denizens in motion.

skin is brushed, aired out, painted, smirched with food:

a quilt of the days experiences

lingering for a moment as i lay to rest

Hour 5 (2020)

warm gleam over the hills

ethereal alert

wake up call from beyond the visible

a bright embrace to all beings under its scope

wake up and be aware!

reciprocate!

walk out into this golden world

and seek out the sun in everyone