Tuesday, February 1, 2011

Snowy Feathers

Under an ice patched cloudy cover
I have been waiting on the leaves
to come from their slumber;
the morning is here after all.
The gray daylight does not vex me,
its snowy sons bring a soft reflection
which gives the gift of winter
a shining wrapping,
but deep inside me and the frost
I hear sunshine tapping.
I glide through the light of melancholy
so quickly I catch the wind and call it joy,
for its sweet taste cannot be mistaken
even under the damaged brown branches
sleeping for the grace of the forecast.
Though I will smile for the comfort of
falling onto the softened ground
yet the basking glow of flowering light
will show the lines in my skin
that I can follow to my eyes
and from there I can lift my head
to stare into the noon time blue egg
from which the heat and
days of wandering youth come forth,
flying away as the river freezes over
but never afraid to perch on the snow
if it must.

Star Conjecture

Sifting on an unbroken membrane,
already you can hear the crunch
that will emanate as your feet
tread and break a path
sure to displease your aesthetic eye.
Branches speak as silhouettes
deep into the twilight scenes of January
in the realms of hanging ice
smoking breath and tundra bellows.
Floating a tiny toy ship onto
the clouds passing by the magnetic rock
slowly reveals the night for the dark morning
it hides itself as,
and in the stomach of winter
you can hear the churning organs
all around the belly of the season;
branches playing on an untouched white sheet
conjuring the images of the stars hanging above.

Cairo Collect Call

The air is hanging heavy
over the Nile
as fists rise above heavy handed rule
as soldiers put down their guns
to pick up small children atop their tanks.
Heavy eyes watch from either side
sitting at tables tapping on the tops
chewing their pens
watching the television anxiously
with fingers on buttons
fingers on phones
eyes on the people.

The dog is biting back now
its leash is off and the other neighborhood dogs
shake off their collars
the rest wait till their owners
look the other way,
but the cats they stand with their tails curled
their hairs static in the electric air
as the neighborhood dogs run off their leashes
free to roam
away from the masters smack of
his bloody back hand.

Smoke rises above the delta
passing from the up-downstream
into the big bowl of salty marble water
which carries into the tumultuous waves
that sending the burning flotsam of the Nile
onto wild shores,
immediately burning out as the fire
hits the doors of the
TV stations and viewers' homes.