Play | She's Art

Spinion

| Incipiens |

sharpen this pen
coil strummed strings
around my teeth
as white as piano keys,
and play
to a beat
that is my own.

ladies. yes, ladies and gentlemen,
she's losing her hair,
and her eyes,
the color of violet rain.
and she's here
to shed her locks
and cry amuck,
while the grand folk
rattle luscious jewels,
suck on stringy baubles
and quizzically mutter,
she's art.

R&B: Red&Blues

I’ma sit here

While the paint dries.

Wet since last night.

Last night,

When the lights were out,

And without a doubt

Mine was yours.

Yours and mine.

Your blue,

those blues,

even in the dark

are electrified.

But those walls,

Once smooth

Wet,

Now cracked.

Those blues

even in the light

are black.

Daylight unveils

The flailing shadows

I bathed in

Last night.

In the Garden

Image by Randi Ward
Spinion

Holdfast XXI

In the Garden
where footsteps
much smaller than hers
pave paths to dwellings
much more fragile than hers,
she sits in a clearing
under the shade of a willow
to listen
to the Tiny Green Gnome Band
bellow out a tune so loud,
she could finally say
she knows the wind
is a siren soprano
and the bees buzz a bass
keeping the Band's heart beat.
In the Garden,
she is Home.

Cave

Image by Elizabeth S. Gilliam-Hedgepath
Spinion.com

I want to see all of the caves
and stride so gracefully,
through its spiky, glistening, chilly
teeth,
that even the darkness
wonders at my ghostly
presence.
I will
spelunk silently,
swiftly through
silent streams, and
crystallized pools
reflecting icy, daggered ceilings; where
a frost so palpable,
the streams marvel
at their own reflections
in the dripping sky.  

Winter: Under the Mayo Bridge

Take me down by the river,
Where the waves
wave hello and go,
where sharp stones
stab my toes
and once
scraped
the basins
of now-forgotten
batteaux;
and stones that scrub
my skin away
from dead
sin.

Take me down by the river
Where blue herons
crack their reflection
when their wings graze
against an endless
pacing,
current.
Stuttering ripples
crashing into
my ankles,
as I watch
the grey sky
now speckled
with blue.

Take me down by the river.
Take me down by the river.
Take me down.

The Observatory

i'll admit
i came for the booze --
a liquor
whose fragrance
wafted and whirled
through a room
of grotesque, mummified things.
a fragrance that
morphed into a curled finger,
beckoning me,
enticing me,
to ogle the color of her hair:
pink like the jarred worms,
encapsulated in formaldehyde.
the sweetness
of anise
and licorice
pulled my wallflower taste buds
off my tongue-floor
to waltz
the way we would
on a crowded dance floor
in a dive bar
during Prohibition.

i now know why
Van Gogh himself
lost an ear
to the luscious green
concoction:
his senses
squished together
craving clear air,
the way we did
in a dive bar
during Prohibition.

Winter's Bite

My lip split,
sliced
from Winter's dagger.

The Wind shouts,
en garde!
And I falter,

For I wish not
To bicker
With Winter's bite.