Turn of Earth

Turn of Earth

#365 Turn of Earth. Written and published Dec 31.

Thank you to everyone for your support all year. It couldn’t have been done without you.

Let it be said of me I breathed, I said,

and tried my very best at saying well.

I joyed and mourned, and emptied all my head

and, too, my heart and soul. I flew and fell

like starlings in a mass who, by and long,

attain their destination, taking flight

to be but an essential string of wrongs

that leads them, battered, better, to where’s right.

Within a year their wings beat without rest;

so does this heart, for both do journey far

and legion little things accrue and test

and colour, maybe mark, but never tar:

          thus, brighter and enlightened now am I.

          One turn of earth fulfilled. How it flew by!

Ardeo

#364 Ardeo. Written and published Dec 30

The good news is,

sometimes,

more often than a lot,

it’s almost like I’m holding you

though I know I’m not.

I feel like I’ve got you,

safe

and here

and you don’t have to worry

and I don’t have to fear

because you’re near me

and I’m by you

and together we are

always me and you, always nearby.

As we lie there on our sides,

clinging fast,

one to the other,

I’m just as wide asleep

as you are soundly awake

and in this dozy state

of lying dazed, we’re taken

miles away to daisy fields

and summer days

so lazy they don’t even

try to end. The moon

sits high-a-sky.

The night is young.

Read More

Empty Heaven

#363 Empty Heaven. Written and published Dec 29

I fear a God that I fear isn’t real,

but pray every night, all the same.

If heaven were empty…

                                …then when that I feel

impossibly, who can I blame?

Shy Light

#362 Shy Light. Written and published Dec 28

When the dawn and I met,

I was worse than when

I had bid the sunset

adieu for I, even then,

was heavy-brow sad

and tumbledown. They

lacked the warmth they had

and sufficed to light me grey

and only grey. My eyes

were stinging with the red

that belonged to morning skies,

but shy light lit me grey instead.

My irises were lies.

I was a fire without glow.

I had a wealth of tearing sighs

but in the light, they wouldn’t show.

Reflection

#361 Reflection. Written and published Dec 27

I didn’t shrug with the unease of unknowing

though I had every excuse and recourse to.

I shrugged to itch the mole between my shoulder

blades. The carpet was too tactile to contain itself

outside my top. It touched across my back

and scratched and so I itched but as I itched,

that constant and contagious nag of t-shirt seam

on intercostals clawed into my cerebellum

and so I scratched my rib as well. The inside

of my knee began to go but by this point I’d

had enough. I threw my palms flat at my side

and clenched that prickly, patterned rug so,

  importantly, I was holding on to something

  and I could feel something real.

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Petroleum demise

#360 Petroleum demise…. Written and published Dec 26

Petroleum demise

with drops of rainbow shadow

glinting under sun.

Reckless treasure squander;

precious greatly, precious little.

Christmas is Eighteen

#359 Christmas is Eighteen. Written between Dec 23 and Dec 25, published Dec 25

Merry Christmas

It struck me that today

is my eighteenth Christmas.

My Christmas is an adult now

which makes it about right

that instead of singing Silent Night,

instead of hoping Santa and his reindeer

will appear this year,

I’m kindling my Christmas cheer

with beer in cups

that have had it up to here.

I’m old enough to hold enough

to pin a smile to my cheeks,

and even though I’m only off from

school a little while,

which is to say a little while

longer than two weeks,

and even though it’s cold enough

that longer sleeves are nicer,

trees lack leaves and we’ve de-icer,

I can but love how, now,

my eyes are free from

all their bleary weight.

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Jack Wasn’t Dull

#358 Jack Wasn’t Dull. Written and published Dec 24

No work and all play,

kept that Jack a bright boy

so go try it today.

See yourself shine with joy.

Ember and the Coin

#357 Ember and the Coin. Written and published Dec 23

The flame cavorts and crumbles

as I stoke and, yet, sustain.

I beat aside a coal. It tumbles

one over another and, underneath,

glimmers a solemn penny humbly.

Its glow is orange like the wreath

of flames that waltz the dance of ember

in its audience. The penny groans relief

as I withdraw it. It remembers

there’s a charm within a chill.

I let it breathe before December

hits as doubtlessly it will.

The welcome handkerchief folds

catch it. It simmers, cooling still,

until it’s rational to touch. I hold

the penny to the window pane.

It countermands the frosty cold.

This glass is made for looking once again.

I hide the coin anew into the cloth

and through the spot I peep, but there remains

that world of ice outside for all the blazing wrath

the penny brought. That hand of flame

but harbours hope as fire does a moth;

so wonderlust consumed another fragile frame.