SHADOW DANCING

SHADOW DANCING

Shadows dance with me,

Our movements as precise

As the orbit of planets

                     Who leads?

What does it matter

when we are light as a sigh,

our presence intertwined

until we are one, our steps

barely brushing the earth

while night breezes determine our tempo,

and the rolling surf plays our favorite song

We dance until sunrise,

then depart until the evening moon

reunites us

                    the shadows and I

WINTER

WINTER

Winter

           is a dead man’s game

north wind bellowing insults

           cutting

           stinging

anvil-like solidity

           beneath stiffening toes

hunched over like a drunken climber

           dodging a glacier’s vengeance

Breath

           in vaporous gulps

stammering in January dialect

iron landscapes

           severed flatland carcass

           spires of ice

hard-shell rapidity

           over sun flecked roofs

serrated crescents of frost

marking the windows

sparrows skidding

           across crusted canyons

dissected by diagonal planks

           of waning light

          

light starved voices

            wailing against the entombment of the season

DANCE IS POETRY

DANCE IS POETRY

Dance is poetry

composed by the body

agile limbs

providing the rhymes

a lithe torso and disciplined feet

providing the precise meter

while hands as graceful as rose petals

punctuate every move

each stanza defying gravity

as body and soul meld together

to etch a poem

upon our hearts

AUTUMN MAPLE

AUTUMN MAPLE

In the front yard

stands a behemoth maple tree

its burnished leaves

dropping gingerly to the ground

like a balding man’s

precious strands of hair

falling into the sink

WHAT WILL DEATH WEAR?

WHAT WILL DEATH WEAR?

Sometimes in the crevices of night,

when the only sound is my own breathing’

I ponder the mystery of death and what costume

it will wear when it comes calling

Will it assume the identity of a tumor

coursing through my body like a wild stallion?

Will it spring up like a Halloween prank,

dressed like an embolism

racing upward toward my brain, only to burst

its arterial boundaries in a tsunami of blood?

Or maybe it will skim the streets dressed in metal,

careless as a tropical monsoon,

oblivious to traffic signals as it flies unrestrained,

until we meet at an intersection

Whatever costume it wears,

I will refuse to acknowledge it

Instead, I will turn my back

And deny its presence

LEAVES

LEAVES

Wherever we looked there were leaves…

leaves like ancient parchment that would

dissolve at your touch

wet leaves the color of earthworms

leaves, monochromatic and spikey

leaves of rust and dew

stacks of leaves, mounds of leaves

mildewed and insect-ravished leaves

leaves rotted by the rain

and shriveled like dyspeptic

old men baked by the sun

drifting leaves, whirlpooling leaves

leaves in gutters and clotted sewers

burning leaves, their gray plumes

wafting over rooftops

raked and bagged leaves

decaying leaves reduced to mulch

leaves pressed between the pages of books

to mark a memory or phrase

leaves adrift on river currents

to be carried off to destinations

known only to leaves

OUR MOUTHS ARE ON FIRE

OUR MOUTHS ARE ON FIRE

Our mouths are on fire

but it is not the earth that is scorched.

It is our souls

Our tongues are like torches

searing our spirit,

our words spewing forth like branding irons

scarring our psyches with declarations of hate

It is time to swallow the bile

that clogs our throats

It is time to think before we speak,

to let the words heal the sores

that fester in our hearts

It is time to let the silence

breath and expand so that our thoughts

find the strength to forge a link

that binds us instead of dividing us

into warring factions

It is time to perfect the language of respect

that reaffirms our humanity

It is time to realize our differences

are not a sin, but a challenge

to better our world

UNDER THE BLOOD MOON

We kissed

under the light of the blood moon

The cold and docile orb

distorted and bloated

like a distended organ

its face burnished,

as if in the grip of a feverish seizure,

swollen with passion

unblinking and unapologetic

in its lunar elegance,

almost begging us to touch it

Instead, we kiss again,

daring our love to flourish

under the light of the blood moon

RECIPE FOR LIVING ON EARTH

Sink into life
     like it's a soft cushion

Sip it
     like it's your favorite cold beverage
     on a golden beach

Dance with it
     like it's your sexiest partner

Challenge it
     like it's your toughest adversary

Make it laugh
     like you're a standup comic

Amaze it
     with the breadth of your ambitions

Cuddle it
     as if it's a fragile infant

And when life decides to leave
     thank  it for the adventure
     and give it your best smile
     as you say goodbye
     like an old friend

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UNDER THE BLOOD MOON

We kissed

under the light of the blood moon

The cold and docile orb

distorted and bloated

like a distended organ

its face burnished,

as if in the grip of a feverish seizure,

swollen with passion

unblinking and unapologetic

in its lunar elegance,

almost begging us to touch it

Instead, we kiss again,

daring our love to flourish

under the light of the blood moon

HOLDING YOU

If I could hold your love in my hand

     I would raise my outstretched palm

           toward the evening stars

                as an offering to the fireflies

who would carry off your love

     in all directions, so

          no matter where I journeyed

               you would be there waiting for me

VAPING

Kissing her
is like vaping

I mean…
she’s there but she’s not

I can taste her
but there’s nothing to swallow

yet she pacifies this craving
that inflames my neurons

without it really satisfying
because when the interaction ends

I bitterly realize
it is only a simulation

For the real thing
could kill us both