I am at first, the droning of a heartbeat.
I am at first my mother’s
and then, I am my own.
The lining of the womb encases my body but never the soul
that travels far and wide beyond this earthly cavern.
Only Her humming anchors me in space and yet… only temporarily-
As I am evolving… I am becoming.
Newborn I will be, from my first squalling breath
Until my last rasping gasp-
Ever learning, ever discovering, ever desiring
the passions and addictions that will one day express me.
I am a moment in time, I am all times
I was at first my mother’s and now,
I am my own.
Author’s Note: I was approached by the phenomenal artist/photographer Roberto Duran to compose a piece for his brilliant “Ultrasounds” project.
I adore Roberto and his work so i jumped at the opportunity…. as you can imagine… it’s always an incredible honor be able to lend something to someone whose work you love and admire. Thank you, Roberto!
Please visit Roberto and his work at the link provided below:
http://www.redbubble.com/people/tokes
Seven depths of darkness down
floating idle, sleepless still
lips that mouthed the murky sound
murmur unconscious, watery drones
and pass beyond the muted ear
to those who are left alone.
Pallor frozen, so pale beyond
those icy splashes of blue and gray
down to sinking far among
the sullen bed of floating weed
and know the chasm of your heart
filled with all those darkened dreams.
I do not know what sent you out
to reconcile with what once was
or recognize the speech dead mouth
that forever calls me back
repeating softly ghostly tremors
that summon me into the black.
I’ll never sing a song again,
The way that I sang you~
To caress the rise of an old refrain
And awake the boy I knew
…And I’ll never sing a song again
The way that I sang you.
I won’t ever kiss a boy again,
The way that I kissed you
Or roam the back way, darkened roads
To meet for a precious few
…Because I’ll never want a boy the way
That I’ve wept for wanting you.
And should I never write a Eulogy or hum your pretty tune
For a boy I sang, and loved and lost
A boy I lost too soon~
And me, the girl you thought you knew, gone to the river too~
….to hum you over and over,
stones across water
How I grieve at singing you.
Author’s Note: This is for Jeff Buckley… someone who i have never known in this life but who has inspired me so deeply with his voice….lyrics…. with his story.
Jeff was lost to the Wolf River Harbor on May 29th, 1997.
This is for you, Jeff…. i miss you… i miss you every single day.
we are wrapped in a woolen plaid,
you and i-
barefoot still and teeth chattering
beside our bit of loch
from where i have retrieved you once more
poor wee birds, toes blue-
fingers interlocked, astride the log
like two pale birds mated
our hair whipping like feathers
ruffled, casting our wings out
my shoulder nudges, hand snaking
into the depths of your damp pocket,
extracting the cold rock like a birth, saying:
we all float like stones, darlin’
we all float…
Author’s Note: I wrote this for Virginia after reading To The Lighthouse which centered on visits to The Isle of Skye in Scotland…. hence the Scot references within~
This is a love song,
sort of…
About the span of your shoulders
as you lift the beam,
level the window, plaster the seam-
and the roof could fall, darlin’
i would not care,
as long as your kilt
guides my stare.
The wide stride, the length of leg
as you stretch beneath
the willow’s rustling leaves-
and the sky could fall, darlin’
i’d still be here,
as long as that blond
gilts your hair.
If i were the flask that graced against
the curve of your mouth,
i could be, i guess-
the woven plaid that covers your back,
your muscular arms
or even your chest-
And the world could end, darlin’
that would be fine
because all the aforementioned
would surely be mine-
Then this could be a song
about all the above,
more about need, less about love.
I found my bones in it…
steeped like tea
i made my brew,
i flocked my broom
and round i flew
and humming thrice
i tossed my shoe
into the lake which encompassed you~
I fed my heart to it…
as magic will
and magic does,
i reverted back
to before the flood
calling my ancestors
to where i stood
becoming one with match and wood~
I became one with it…
the archaic branch
that lends my frame,
i wandered back
from whence i came
and widdershins
back round again
my Samhain song a new refrain~
I am not one with you-
You are the sun while
I’m in your shadow,
the dust motes that dance riot
in the light round your shoulders,
the crumbled leaves
that blow hollow through your halo,
the water
that slices your wings-
no more than another face
bare with the desire at wanting you-
and if I should hide that face
within my hands-
so as not to watch you pass by,
pass over me like a squall
as i hover in your wake
I’ll just be a rain cloud.
A torrent for you-
a storm waiting to break.