Tuesday, January 31, 2012

Austin Bats

Pups with wings
whisper awake, nudge
and squirm against their cohorts
as their hearts tom tom tom together.

They stretch their bony elbows
as the fruit cools, as the sonar song falls
over their cavemind like a lover's arms
and caresses them toward the twilight.
Their eyelids snap up.

One by one by one they leave
the musty deep by some signal we don't
hear and soar into the fat nightbugs.
We think they will come flapping
from under the bridge like vampires
but they are a silent trickle,
a vortex over the lake,
a spike in the moon.


Peter17 2008. Emergence of the bats of the Congress Avenue Bridge in Austin, Texas, at dusk.

Tuesday, January 24, 2012

Old Love

I may need a stout rod
for the journey but
I can walk it on my own
because your skin smells of ocean
and your sea glass eyes are still
the same shade as your laugh.

I expect certain considerations:
a touch on the neck,
a brief clasping of fingers,
a kiss that has nothing to do
with a peck. An opening:
your mind into mine; an emptying:
your baggage, the polished suitcase
in which you carry your heart.

And then we fill each other gently
with secrets torn apart and shared
like bread. We spread a net of crumbs
to keep us each from stumbling
into hunger. Know that I choose
exactly this way: the way you
made your way to me again.

You may expect me
to be more of a trellis
than a blade. More of
a rich dark vein and less
of a potion misted in air.
I will keep in my heart for you
a small portrait, a mirror that shows
you standing in your finest pose.

Some seeds don't open
until fire and heat have brazed
their useless outer layers.


Tuesday, January 17, 2012

The Wolf of the World

A woman on the other side
of the world sleeps when I wake,
wakes alone without map or net
and watches each way while I sleep.
A candle burns on both ends.

A harsh note on the other side
of the dark vibrates up my last nerve
and sets me humming in my spine.
Speak now. You will not be allowed
to forever hold your peace.

I must stand with the woman
who stands with me, because
women can do these things: pull
each other up by the boot buckles,
carve each other clean sin by sin.

I send notes to the other side
of the void to say: yes,
I have not only heard of the wolf
I have seen him from the corner
of my eye, that sly worn devil

Nearly toothless in the light of cold day
but large and patient in the dim.


Retron 2008. Dakota, a grey wolf at the UK Wolf Conservation Trust, howling on top of a snowy hill.