Farewell Summer

My soul has reaped the late summer harvest
of corn

no longer plump

withered to a deep golden
of cherries

flesh contracted to the pit

rich purple bruised

rot concealed
of love

a dehydrated straw flower

of short lived perennial state

made more beautiful by intoxicating influences

and heady, hazy skies
Image of the delightful double straw flower “Helichrysum Bracteatum” as captured at Van Dusen Gardens, Vancouver, BC. 

Flesh Wound

After the storm

we find us

once again strewn on a distant shore

shivering

tending bruises

 

Yet this time

I lost a leg

my left

Luckily my least favourite

because of the toe deformity
You know I would have yelled

to high heaven if my right was gone

I would have blamed you for everything

The inclement weather

The rocks that smashed the bow

The words that deflated the life boat
But I stay quiet

I barely have a leg to stand on

After the storm

Golden

This molten orange evening sky

awash with thoughts of you and I

like treacle smeared on glistening skin

golden coats the warmth within

 

Herringbone patterned clouds on high

are ribs attended with soft touch sigh

as ocean rolls

wave upon wave

nature beckons

our hearts

to

save

Autopsy

My roots thus exposed

laid bare for your inspection

an unholy public dissection

on hallowed metal slab

 

my wrists are tethered trembling

strapped hard to silence questioning

of spotlight

harshly flickering

 

my heart

now barely quivering

stripped clear from ribbed covering

and clasped in bloodied hands

her clot cloaked cavities

caressed into the bag labelled

“chronically capricious”

 

 

Wholly inspired by the wonderful Anaïs Nin quote “I am only responsible for my own heart, you offered yours up for the smashing my darling. Only a fool would give out such a vital organ”.

A Cloud Canvas

Would you let me paint the clouds for you?

long, languid strokes

lavishly spread

over fading azurite blue

with cosmic brush dipped to ferrule

heavy with heaven

dabbing ashen shadow

betwixt amber wisps

and tranquil towering iced tufts

 

a masterpiece bestowed

for my melancholy muse

heart unknown

I am the "little armored one", moving gently through life. Hoping to safeguard my sensitivities with layers of words and the expression of thought. Shielding my mirror neurons at times, or tasting music and spinning till I'm dizzy. Every moment here is a gift.