Whisper (Self-Portrait)

(Feathers and Cotton)

you asked a question, with

                           finger-tipped tendrils 

                                     tracing the life-lines of an 

open palm. 

The flashcards rapid-fire, 

projecting behind flickering orbs of adoration;

streaming the tales of a 

thousand possibilities-- 

           floating in seas of flora, 

                   laying buried beneath millions of their 

                   solar-rayed satin tongues, shrouded in the bee's busy work; 

           hand-held happiness; 

           memorization of moment each time 

                       eyes entangle                across               piles    of       feathers and cotton. 

So yes- 

sweet stellar existence, 

                an answer is deserved-so, 

but when I entreat my mind to 

speak 

      soft vocations of your affect on me, 

pretty meets happy and 

hallowed ground as such desires a quiet, 

                                                        contemplative 

                                                                        consciousness before I 

clatter in the clamor to 

find speech in perfect-present-tense 

to say...


       ...that silence seems golden until songbird soars.


Grasping,
Fingers
      follow            and     swell, 
               hollow


Hope hides in heaving breaths,
                budding between the fences,
                                                      coaxing
                                                          each
                                                            out
                                                       of gate.


Dance in sandstorms,
                            heat-lightning lengthens
                                                     shadows splashed from
hot-lamp-street-light.


Serpentine rhythms
          heat exchange
crying out for a
             kiss from the cross breeze to
chill the spine, supine sparks fly

ArteRotica // Self Portraiture showing in NYC