The Blood of the Morning

the pool deepened under me
as the sun
fractured the water
into dark depths of filmy
rakish shadows

I saw gleaming
to the edge of dawn
the blood of the morning
splitting the sky in two
and the water slipped
up my neck and into my mouth

clear coldness crept
shivering fingers
to the outline of my bones
and little ripples
waved around me
with my name slowly ebbing away

I shook my legs heavy
splashed my face
frigid to the rays
of golden headed raptures
down the all too clear skies
to the droplets glistening
in my floating nest of dark hair

silence
all mine
to tree lined shores

not a whisper
to corrupt
a break in the tidal flow
of purple star fish
and chirping shatter bird
high above the cliffs
and far from clattering
pebbled beaches

the waves reached
and flung their little rounded bodies
back
and I could hear the sound
as if a hundred little stone fingers
scrapping the sandy floor

only watered downed wood
will know my passing
a gentle slipping
through the water
my languid eyes open
to a polished depths

where they are
acrobats
of bug catchers
with glistening rainbow scales in the new day sun
flung to the heavens
like an arcing glitter to velvet dappled wings

and when skin is a fleshed pink
to the violet hue
of lapping
with tongue and gentle limb
though fluid in touch
and sliding between waves

I will find that rocky shore
with barest of foot
and nakedest of skin
dripping
a blushing shade of
my innocence
to the tilting sentience of emerald trees
akin to this my pastoral place of home
soaked with water-smoothed body and bone
in the long sandy line of the crystaled shimmering dawn

The Thickening Wood

I ran through wet tree branches
and felt the recoiling sting shock me
back to my own disheveled mind.

With little droplets of sap in my hair
and deep red welts blooming on my skin
I ran, feet pounding against the needled floor.

I ran, even as the rain pelted me pink
against the dark green hands
reaching for me.

I ran, sloshed through the creek,
upon smooth coloured pebbles worn flat
and perfect for skipping.

I ran through tall grass, with the alfalfa in bloom,
scraping at my thighs;
little purple flowers caught up in my dress.

I ran and startled big black birds to air
a great rush of wings
past my ears, all frightened.

I slid down the hill once dust
now turned to mud in the rain,
splashing up my knees with wet dirt.

I pounded down the road, a muddy rut,
my breath coming in rattling gasps,
my legs aching fire sinking into the damp ground.

At the end of the trail,
I dove back into the thickening wood
as the sticker bushes clung to me, pulling me from my path.

The canopy closed over my head,
lushed green deepening the further I fled
into those flats of wild roses and bull pines stretching for the sky.

The black berries brambled in my way
and ripped at my skin with swaying thorns;
sweet juice staining the souls of my feet black; berries crushed under foot.

I ran, not once looking behind me but frantically sprinting faster;
I outran my slicked thoughts of you to the crumbling river bank,
and when I got there I dove straight in and let the flood waters pull me away.

The Wreck

I think I will set fire to this sinking ship
and see if it can burn in the rain
maybe a thousand tin sailors can swim
but I doubt it

with iron limbs
I am sure to sink to the bottom
where I can search for sharks
freezing in the deep
as the waves slam into my iron chest
and the ringing carries across the water

there is armor in my belly
and planks where my eyes should have been
I am going to build a raft
to drift further from shore
and see if I can set fire to it as well

with all these burning ships around me
the sea is illuminate
and the seals are dashing
to eat the hearts of drowning men
their pelts gleaming in the reflection of flames off the water

you could swallow pearls
that were once orbits in the center of your head
and find me down here
rusting in a bed of seaweed
under the bones of great iron ships

you should fear death by water
as I am a drowning sort
wearing a crown of little fish
and a cloak of octopus tentacles
with arms like nets
set to drag you down to me

you told me my kiss is like gasping for air
and I taste of salt water
well I would rather commit to something
than live a life dry
abandoned on some beach
as the ghosts wade out
to find my blood in the tide

I would prefer to drown completely
and make my home beneath the waves
in these caverns of dark and rotting wood
caught in the songs of passing whales
than to perform this drowning in increments
which you seem to cherish o' so very much

A Rust Coloured Season

when our skin met in the summer
you let your jitters get the best of you
laughing nervously in my ear

but your hands rested on my hips
as you followed my swaying rump
up the stairs
to a room that only existed outside
under a canopy of green needles
and sun dappled cheeks

I spent those summer nights
sitting nakedly on my deck
uncaring about my spying neighbors
drawing on my pipe
watching the smoke swirl into dim images
in the moonlight

I watched the deep green ivies creeping up the wall
listened to the little tippy tapping of the water
down smooth rocks
letting myself drift back to that white beach
watching the sun touch your skin with a deep brown
as I lay in the sand
and cursed the silence

the surf took my heart
and sent it to sea
on a boat built of drift wood
and floating seaweed
it is still drifting out there
bobbing up and down with the fishing birds
sitting on the tide
diving after
little fish swarming around the rocks
looking to nibble at your pink toes

our skin shining in the dripping wetness
as we stood on the beach and watched the sun set
listened to the waves lap at our souls
someone had to say something
but the words did not come
the silence grew up
and covered over my mouth
my tongue
wanting to gently touch your lips
stuck firmly inside my head
and sealed with the heat

the ocean called my name
as the moon rose
told me to go home
where I could dream of your arms
your trembling lips
your velvet skin under my fingers
in a haze of gentle drugs
and creativity set lose
on an unsuspecting world