Monday, November 8, 2010


Green veins hold golden leaves
as iridescent fingers
in suspended incandescence,

frequencies of decay
in layered variegation
tipped with touches of blood.

The trees sway,
boughs lean like jet wings in the wind
as shivering timbers send sailors diving to the sea

to land so softly,
to be cupped in a hand
full of surrendering pages

curled and batter-fried,
frothed with burlap tatters
over moss that reads like a map.

All collapses to the soil
or drips into the stream
to decompose to oneness,

pulled under the fern-patterned surface
that gives all the rust colors back;
Speaking through, not to, each other.


Hannah Stephenson said...

Batter-fried!? That was a great surprise.

The last line is sticking--speaking through each other. A cohesiveness of voice?

Anonymous said...

The finality in this piece is gloriously haunting. I thoroughly enjoyed it.

Btw, thanks for adding me to your blogroll. I will definitely do the same for your site.

--GK Asante

Jingle Poetry said...

lovely word flow.
beautiful poem.

Jingle Poetry said...

Hello, How exciting to land on your magical poetry land.
Hope you well.

I am inviting you to join us for poetry potluck fun.
First Time participants are encouraged to link in 1 to 3 random poems to share, old poems are welcome. Hope to see you in.

I signed in to follow your blog.
welcome follow us back.

Happy Tuesday!
You Rock!

Jingle said...

Welcome attending poets rally week 33, link in a poem, visit 18 poets, done,
Poetry awards assigned upon completion.
Happy Friday!
Thanks in advance for the attention!