Five.2

Five.1

I live in a city but also on the edge of woods along the James River. My home is halfway between the wild and a growing metropolis. This unique way of life has left me feeling akin to much of Chika Sagawa's poetry and prose where nature intersects with urban living. She takes you on leisurely walks through her imagination. Her words are a window that allow you to look out at her world from her distinct point of view but also offer the opportunity to look into her thoughts untethered.

Inspired by Sagawa's work, I will be posting a series of 5 word poems written on windows of my home with a china marker. This first poem is an introduction to what I am hoping to accomplish over the next week or two.

Stately Paean

Mid-morning warmed lungs

chant velvet surrender.

Triumphant

perfumed gasp,

healer gives way

to hymn.

Sung,

a peony has come

                    undone.

Rippled milk fist

loosens its cumulus grip.

God of healing

gently delivers

pillow punches

to no one in particular.

Tissue lips declare,

calamity softly

                    spared.

Jade Sea Glass

Tossed by tongue

a tiny vessel

is weathered

& turned

until it

evaporates 

into a whisper  

of warm

green apple.

Bad Habits

Your speaker phone is unsatisfied,

M A G N I F Y I N G

tight throat accusations.

It is a Spanish Inquisition of exotic profanity.

I understand nothing

but a broken 

m a r r i a g e

and that the office

is no place 

for this public execution.

Limp

Interrupted sky.

Failed fingers

catches no

               c            lo         u                 d,

climaxestoosoon.

City body, blinking eyes.

Street creases.

You look tired. You look tired. You look tired.

Humming bell jar.

A pendulum

Swings

          to arrive

Swings

          to depart

A bridge is a

bandage.

Crown of horns

Bleedingcars

                   Bleedingcars

                                       Bleedingcars

I was STRUCK by promise

and now 

I walk 

with a    limp.  

Animalia

“Jailbait and black snakes are two things I won’t touch with a window pole”  - Breece D’J Pancake

                                                                                          

Warm weather guests

trespass to

bathe in

radiating lakes.

Bare

skin imprinted

as if

grass

pushed back.

Sweet sweat

coconut;

she bakes.

She browns

vanilla cakes.

He studies

celestial bodies

but geology does not

please 

like this.

It took millions of         years to perfect these         hills

                                                               and they will outlive

                                                                                              our Animalia

                                                                                                                appreciation.

Dynamite clouds

break Kyanite

until it leaks

metallic streaks.

Forked tongues

strike & lick.

Heat quivers

like ribbons,

they slither.

out of sight

for cover

There are

no

snake charmers

after

dark. 
Just a ridge arching 

its back; 

fur standing 
on end,

                                                      steaming.