Somewhere Blue &
Weightless
Into
the ground
you
disappeared,
leaving
only images
of
your fragile frame.
Over
three decades
You
remain
painted
unaware.
Your
skin drinks
transparent
words & little else
by
the lake.
In
my hands, I try
to
hold no weight
&
your warm breath
a
hymn of unfamiliar language
climbs
out of reach.
There
was never very much
of
you, only the sound
of
moving water.
Eleanor
Late afternoon sunlight & shadow
dance silently across our wall
to entertain Eleanor.
Her seventeen months smile
chasing their own silhouette.
This diversion won’t last long.
Outside of this room
a thick green swell of swamp pulses
with cicada song & humidity
with cicada song & humidity
& every living thing is
saturated in sky.
Our Ruins
A charred earth snaps awake
with each step backwards
against smoldering underbrush.
Look through these temporary angels.
Forget your given name.
From the sky,
cut paper petals return
as ash grey butterflies.
Descending figures,
briefly visible, vanish
without warning.
To a home silhouetted by fire
follow torn lines
through blackened trees.
Breathe
as evening breathes.
Open albums,
dreaming leaves-
only fragments remain.
We belong to a lifetime
of letting go.
Bio:
Jason's writing can be found online and in print and a multidisciplinary work (composed for eight musicians and readers) was recently performed at The Museum of Contemporary Art in Jacksonville (MoCA-Jax), Florida. He holds a doctorate in education.
No comments:
Post a Comment