The Space Just Above
barren white alone
the attic grown hiding space
never out of place
trained from very start
you play your part well my dear
you always fooled me
Skyscrapers
Skyscrapers
They said we never would, so we finally did
by that time, we were all already dead
just waiting for the light to show up and take us
it didn’t, so the rage finally boiled over
I showed you how to make a good fire
the gas canister pulled you down with it
until you emptied it in the lobby
there were so many, around us, laughing
and when the sparks lit up a smile, I knew I loved you
The suited men, for all their millions, couldn’t fly
they rained from the tops of the skyscrapers like well dressed rubble
I held your ears in my hands because it bothered you, the way they hit
and with my mouth I kissed your dirty forehead
The skyline was beautiful on fire
the shadows danced on the smoke clouds above
as if the great beast was dying before us, finally after all this time
I held your hand and we cheered a new world, one rising from the rubble
Where we would be something.
Two Ears
Just be still and listen
There is much said in silence
Just be still and listen
For silence is a piece of gold
Closing Time
It’s five o’clock.
Closing time.
Yes, I’m afraid so.
Yes, we are open tomorrow from ten.
Thank you.
Good evening.
Cl-lick.
The lock settles into place in the door.
Behind me, I hear the library rustle.
Back to work.
The audio books are first to emerge,
Oozing out across the floor like mollusks.
I scatter handfuls of earbuds for them in the corner.
And herd one back in place with a broom.
The children’s picture books can cause havoc.
Their great wingspan and excitable nature
Can have them up on the ceiling in minutes.
If you’re not careful. Luckily, I’m trained.
The non-fiction section settle ponderously on the tables
Like owls. They don’t need much, but they startle easily.
I move slowly, and give one or two of the friendlier tomes
A scratch behind the wipe-clean cover.
The languages are noisy. No way around that.
Like parakeets, they have a lot to say and
They’re not shy about saying it. I shake the box of vowels,
and fend off a greedy dictionary. He’s already been fed.
The tech books drape themselves protectively
Over the public PCs. They’ve been doing this a lot recently.
I think they don’t like the new antivirus. I keep meaning to contact IT.
At least they’re not fighting the public again. Yet.
We will not talk about the Mills & Boon display.
Especially not – especially not – the large print editions.
And large-print is usually so well-behaved.
It’s usually best just to leave out lots of water.
The fiction… I sigh. The fiction is the most chaotic.
A great flapping mass of shelves as they
Compete for nesting space. The lonely copies
On the shelving trolley cooing, mournfully.
I shouldn’t complain. The fact that they’re out for me
Is something of a compliment. Books like library staff,
Of course, generally speaking. But they do wait until there
Aren’t many people near at all to really come alive.
It would be nice to watch them settle,
Just take a seat and be here, safe in the susurrus.
But it’s time for the worst job in the library day.
I go and fetch a shovel to muck out the reviews.
Fruity Fun
An apple you saw
With breasts red and swollen
And a waist just as dainty
And sweetness spilling from golden lips
Entrancing with fragrance simple and divine
And a pear all mellow
Spotless and yellow
With a bulging pouch
And flat torso
Gentle curves and planes
And it’s taste subtle and exquisite
Lingering on the tongue
Like scent of kisses
And that strawberry
The red seductive berry
Seeds crunching with pulpy lips
Dripping with cream
And decadent desire
A blend perfect of innocent fire
Appreciating the Now
In winter I dream of frost
On window panes
Of sweaters and socks
Mittens and knit hats
I even; when it gets over 40 degrees
Fantasize about snow
Covering the streets
In the winter I dream of swimming in the lakes
Of the snow leaving the road clear
So my feet can touch the ground
Of shedding my jacket
The sun warming my Shoulders
And stroking my hair as I
Fall asleep
In a somnolent hammock
How can we never be happy right now
With everything just the way it is?
Cherry blossoms then
Plum and apple blossoms
Spring plantings
Feeling the soil
Warm under fingers
That appreciate it for
What
It is
NOW
Not what It will become
Or what it has been
But what it is right now
See the birds in the trees
Different ones in winter
Then in spring, summer or fall.
The glorious streaks of colour of the
Humming birds in summer
The visiting swans in spring
The goslings somewhere inbetween
In fall the birds going to and fro
What a show!
In winter the hearty, steadfast birds,
Always the chickadees, ravens, crows,
The cedar waxwings in their fine plumage
Year after year, I try to learn all their names and songs
Each season has it’s purpose
Things to harvest
Clothing most splendiferous
Could I live without a single one of them?
No, not ultimately
Listen
“Just be still, and listen”
You will hear the voice inside of you
You will be led
You will be fed
You will never be in want, if you just listen
Hour 6: Fluffy clouds
“Fluffy clouds,
In the sky,
How many forms do you take?
Oh, fluffy clouds,
Every year you cry,
Bringing us rain and water,
Filling our rivers and lakes to the brim.
Oh, fluffy clouds,
Please don’t be angry with us,
Your anger brings us floods and devastation,
You break our dams and make our rivers overflow.
Oh, fluffy clouds,
Please don’t ignore us,
Your ignorance brings us droughts, and so much more,
You take all our water and kill our plants.
Oh, fluffy clouds,
Always be fluffy
HOUR 19 The Magic of Puree Pathology
The Magic of Puree Pathology
Table set for two, romantic in candlelight,
Subtly dimming your true intentions,
Flickering souls tarnished by night,
Dazed by your misdirection.
Shock sets in, and passes over me, a whisper,
Lovers speaking in hushed dusk tones,
Serving my sibling, unwelcome offer,
But a grim offering none the less.
Heaving on each mouthful, my insides taut,
Eyes pleading heartfelt with you to stop,
Lust and sadism indistinguishable,
And I serve both masters.
Pulsating inside as you watch my tears,
Always manipulating my weakness,
Relishing every mouthful forced,
Rising to my suffering.
The meal is complete, but this is initiation.
I sense that your plans run deeper,
Advantageous secrets,
Trust misplaced,
My downfall.
Gazing, love and fear’s cocktail, into your dark eyes,
I attempt once again to gain your absent mercy,
‘Dyer-Bolique, with higher hand and magic art,
You have won.
I submit to your will as you wish,
But plead that you show mercy.’
Prompt 11 Hour 11
Prompt 11 Hour 11
The Gumboots
Looking out the skyscraper window I could see
that the sky was periwinkle blue today. A cloud
drifted by, wispier and wispier. It spread itself over
that patch of sky. Workman plodded up and down
the stairs as they worked over the storefront but
I sat quietly waiting for their gumboots to leave
the building in silence as the new storefront featuring
needles and sourdough bread slid into place