Rain

Dec. 19th, 2012 06:54 pm
aetius: (Eagle)
Late last night I dreamt
that the rain would come and wash
all my tears away.
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I found a pencil
buried in the couch.
Where have my words gone?

Sunsets

May. 1st, 2008 04:24 pm
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My mother's father
has forgotten who we are.
Sunsets viewed through dust.
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Some time ago (just over four and a half years ago, actually), I posted a series of thirteen lessons my one of my cats had taught me.

Last month, I acquired a camera capable of doing justice to the cat in question.

Behind the cut, there is a photo of the kitten as well as links to the lessons learned.

Read more... )
aetius: (Default)
This season's windstorm
howling in the hollow tree
echoes in my heart
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The first line would be too long.
"It's roomy and American," he'd tell you.
And then he'd discuss a car.

Mockingbird

Mar. 7th, 2007 05:54 pm
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The Mockingbird laughed
as we fell past her into
the Raven's domain.
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When the water came
it put out all the fire.
But Jazz lives in coals.
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I saw that the priest
was given a few moments
before returning.
aetius: (Eagle)
(In Imitation of Kay Ryan's "A Hundred Bolts of Satin")

All you
have to snag
is one
loop
and the life
unravels
all the way back.
It seems
to have been
a sweater.
There seems
to have been
a pattern.
The yarn
that you
end up with
cannot reveal
it: a skein of
maroon wool,
for example,
several yards
of blue,
a single strand
of golden yellow –
perhaps you
were less
bright than
you imagined.

Aurora

Nov. 11th, 2005 07:51 am
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Brazenly her wares
are displayed on the corner
Nameless red flower
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Though the song is gone,
My heart contains its echo.
Petrified forest.
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Soft wind in the trees
rattles leaves above just so.
We ignore our meal.
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The reflected moon
gleams off of bunches of grapes.
Our midnight picnic.
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This morning's sunrise
brought us color but no warmth.
Blue paint on canvas.
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Sharp-edged glass fragments:
There are things one should not touch ...
Like broken friendships.
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I often dream of
the moon dancing on the lake,
luring me deeper.
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No matter how much
change the wind brings from the sea,
mountains ignore it.
aetius: (Default)
A whooshing sound,
and the world falls away
from my tired feet.

From here, I can reach the clouds!
... if I can just let go
of Daddy's sweaty forehead.

The air is somehow sweeter
when you're not busy dodging feet.

How often I see others,
riding on their lesser steeds -
Of all the shoulders in the world,
my Daddy's are the best.

(And my Daddy never drops me)
aetius: (Default)
We are the Dead,
he says,
We exist in the Dream,
he tells me,
Do they not say,
he asks,
   We sing no songs for the dead
   We give no gifts to the dead
   For the words that we sing
   And the gifts that we bring
   All mean but naught to the dead.


What is it like,
I ask of him,
being dead?

He says:
It is the moon,
in the water,
being broken by a rock
falling
into its glassy stillness.
We are the moon.
We are the rock.
We are the water.
We are the dead.

I had a dream,
I say to him,
And it was true:
Every path I take
draws me near to you.

He laughed, then.
We are the Dead,
He says,
Ask no more questions of us.
   All the words that you speak
   All the wisdom you seek
   Still mean but naught to the Dead.
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