After Birth

The woman shook as her heart
beat loudly between soft palms.
She watched it,
                        confused and curious both,
as the child tucked it away
into static-lined folds
of its pastel green blanket.

And the woman said to herself
as she was reborn:
     this new babe,
     tender and sweet as he is,
     has killed me with love
     of his utter
     innocence.

Meditation

Today I left my trinkets
and teddies and toys and tears
scattered on the floor.
I walked into the sunlight
and was set aflame
by the new day.

A soft breeze came, silently,
whisking away my cremated skin
and settling my mind's ashes
over the earth like dandelion seeds
tossed into the clouds
by a child's kiss -

I opened my eyes, invigorated
and smiling.  My hand reached
into a paper bag of peaches
as I watched the clutter on the floor
eat up my space.

The Façade I Wore

The façade I wore
melted like yellow gum drops
soured by the excessive summer heat.

It dripped down slowly into
the two outstretched palms
waiting for the slow, bubbling liquid
to move.

It would take some time
before the awareness
                shock of my
sudden nudity would sink away,
allowing the next porcelain mask --
sugar-coated, candied and rhinestoned --
to surface.

The Rising Sun

The rising sun
weeps breathy petals of frost,
shaking away the cool calm of night
with pale silk fingertips.

Long and graceful,
it stretches its divine limbs
over Gaia,
its lovely child,
whose pine green nails
dig the light down from the sky.

Straight from the Camel's Nipples

This poem came about because of a very brief and weird dream involving camel nipples? Don't ask haha.  Anyways, enjoy:


*************
I turned and watched the bosom sway,
heavy with fresh milk and irony.
The pregnant thing did betray

a bit of remorse
at her sorrowful state ---
I touched them gingerly.

The aureolas darkened,
growing large.
Lactation.

We Watch The Shadows

We watch the shadows
ripple effortlessly across the cement
like disturbed moonbeams;
enchantingly quiet.

One can only assume
that the Little People
are responsible.

Who else can immaculately conceive
such wonder?

Little Rattler

I saw the sun streak warnings
across your reddened palm
as you raised the stick
and nudged the little Rattler.
     Bewildered,
I closed my eyes
and felt my breath leave my lungs.

But all was well.
The tiny thing slithered away
into the crooked mountain crevices
as we made our way back down.
     Shocked,
I looked at your face
betray ignorance of your selfless audacity

and I wondered if all my dammed up fear
would give way, one day, and again lead me here.