Hour Five: Tall Tales

At times trees tell tales

Truth stretched thin in branches
Roots spreading the word
Trunk too dense to tell
Till under duress it cracks
Rings records open to all.

Hour Four: Solidity 

Nothing is sturdy that appears so.

Not this table or floor or chair.
Not this hand, not this ground.

Nothing is sturdy that appears so.
The only sturdy things are those unseen
The ones unheard, unmeasured
The truth of deep knowing
The embrace of the divine
And the turn of the Wheel.

Hour Three: Oneness

Oneness

She could no longer tell if it was
coming out of her or pouring in
All she knew was floods of syrupy gold
tasting like marigolds look
Dissolving into grace.

Hour Two: Sublimination

Sublimination

Aches sequestered into

a flick of the eye
a second over the limit.
Cravings corralled
smushed down
oozing out the edges

Boy
her house is clean. 

Hour One: Relief 

Relief 

The moment when,
Mud-crusted, bog-heavy, sun-singed,
The breeze lifts your chin
Tilting your face to meet
The first drop.

Hour 12: How It Ends

The spare canopy moon
Shone glory 
Me in breastbone panic
Jeep slithering under
Mirror-still black of the lake.

Hour 11: near/far

He tried on lives like tourists do in the hip hat store down on Congress, frequently and fast
Picking up and dropping leashes
Keys
Mail
None of which were his.
Sliding under fluffy down, wilted quilt, swishy sleeping bag
Or nothing but wisps of cloud and moonbeam.
Sleep found him whenever he lay
Even though I never could.

Hour 10: Nothing Lost

We’ve lost so much together, you and I.
Innocence
Parents
A partner
We’ve lost money, time, control
the piece to that bookcase
my battered grey t-shirt
the chance to fill a womb
but rarely patience,
and never the desire to bring lips together,
whispering, “bon nuit, je t’aime”.

Hour 9: Destination

The trouble is, you think you know where it goes
That somewhere down the line treasure glows
Unfolding leads only to more unfolding
Until the true end of our time

Hour 8: 

​The cat’s pointy feet navigating the ever – shifting landscape of the bedclothes

She moves like a sundial around the house, keeping time, keeping warm

Grace unfolding furry limbs

The swish of sass in her tail.