Saturday, May 17, 2014


Photo,  Aaron Draper

An ancient dream,
if you will…

shoulders unarched
i walked into the water
paying no heed to the waves
giving no mind to the imminent storm

my spirit emptied of discernment
my core hollow of presentiment

pure as a newborn
whose gaze falls blue and unfiltered

i walked
i plunged

i bathed
in the cistern of secrecy
my body jarred and amplified by
the keen obscenity of this new unknown

unknown, that was, to anyone but me

sorceress! i called myself
a torrent of names i lashed
at my own eyes and cheeks

how long before the burden of truth
affixed itself to me?

how long before the self-drawn blood
stained the cold sand floor?

I’d like to shake the memory of that dream
like I shake my hair when I emerge
from the froth of the sea.

I’d like to wrest the reality of it
from this reality.

I’d like to…
but doing so would be 
a denial of self.

And who am I to deny me?
So many others have tried and failed.

I rest, instead,
fierce and flaming
inside this masted body,
a stirring yet unsung intermezzo­­—
an ivory circumference of byzantium patience.

* * * * * * * * *

NOTE: My first poetry chapbook, From Darkness, Beatitudesis scheduled to be released June 2014 from Finishing Line Press.