Missing

do the trees
miss their leaves
in the frozen
heart of winter

does the moon
miss the stars
at the end of
time

does the shore
miss the sea
when
the earth
has burned
to ash

do you
miss me
when you
turn your face
away

because
I
miss
you

36 – Just Diddling Around

This evening
my ginger cat
rubs against my legs, purring
as I sit in the kitchen
listening to classical music
on the radio –
the Mendelssohn Violin Concerto

My dish and spoon
sit together on the table
as though waiting to run off
when I turn my head

Moonlight streams
through the open window
and I swear I hear a cow beller

Inferno, Room III

The Inferno was deserted
We walked dark, winding corridors
among huge whisky vats
and Rub Goldberg devices
kitsch loomed, vaguely threatening
plastic harpies
and plaster fortune tellers
eyed us

mechanical music machines
long out of tune
moaned and screeched
a discordant warning
Time will win
Time always wins

Welcome to hell –
here’s your accordion

 

 

This is a 55 word impression of section three of the House on the Rock for Hedge’s Verse Escape.

*Note: The last two lines are taken from a Far Side cartoon (“Welcome to Heaven…. Here’s your harp. /  Welcome to Hell…. Here’s your accordion.”)

33

We sit in a little cafe
run by latter-day hippies
with hand thrown crockery
thick and imperfect
dancing with color
plants hang
in macrame slings
I finger the three-tined fork
as you gaze at me
through the coffee’s steam

It’s time for an adventure
I spread the map

 

I think this still needs some fiddling.

30

The soft
spring breeze
saunters
through the screen door
as though it knew
how we longed for it
dreamed of it
in our winter hearts
It whispers
of warm, green days
of dirt and sprouting seeds
as it carries April away

28

White
is absence,
the absence of pigment
of fertility
of time

White
is hard,
the hardness of tooth
of bone
of stone

It is not vulnerable
like green
alive and pulsing

It is not fluid
like blue
brimming and rippling

White is brittle, bleached
leached
a bleak remnant

White is what is left
when life is gone
and even decay is done

26

I sit with the moon
when everyone else
is tucked away, dreaming
I recite the stars
like a litany
rolling them
around my mouth
touching each tooth
one by one until I have
emptied the sky

25

I hold the disk of the moon
under my tongue
and count to one hundred
I feel it dissolve
as the silvery coolness
slips down my throat
curls in my belly
I swallow the moon
then keep her wisdom
in my blood
under my skin
no one knows
but they can see
I am radiant

You might want to take a peek at Verse Escape.

 

22

These are dark days
Our minds are filled with small thoughts
like dogs on short leads
we don’t stray far
from the concrete
Our lives shrink to fit
into the prescribed boxes
society has set for us
We have forgotten the time
when we used to soar
Our mouths are filled with small words
and all our bad victories
catch in our throats