Lantern On A Wooden Walk

 

The lantern's body in autumn is cold

because its coat is a gift from the wind.

The lantern lies close to the wooden wet

in order to hear where the tree has been.

The lantern's handle is ever unheld

so that silence can take it further than words.

Left on the path, left ever low,

left to consider the motion of birds.

The lantern's glass is lit by flame--

its mother the match that gave and went out.

A lantern on a wooden walk--

pass by, pilgrim, with or without.

________

for Dverse Poetry "light"

Music: The Bee Gees Lamplight

Queening

 "It wasn't chess, it was checkers." --Ian Anderson to a critic who had said he plays chess with his audience.

That's a neat trick, you with the blade,

filing your teeth into chess pieces in your sleep.

You'd prefer the whole board gray,

every piece a bishop, coming at an angle,

lifting scripture from both cheeks.

Don't talk with your mouth full,

don't run that sideways stuff at the magic hour

with a rabbit in your hat, it's a tired old trick.

Such stale gambits won't maneuver me

into doing what you lack the guts for yourself.

I'm retiring from this bullshit, let's try a new game, it's called

Truth Or Dare, and I play it with knives.

_________

for Sunday Muse #181.

In The Yellow Kitchen

In the yellow kitchen with the rose-colored counters
where green ivy vines surround the window,
spirits come in from indigo hours
looking for words kept in earthen jars

in the yellow kitchen with the rose-colored counters.
We keep a coffee pot of enamel
cream yellow to soothe late hour drowsers
unseen and hungry for a kiss, a ribbon, a caramel,

in the yellow kitchen with the rose-colored counters
where green ivy vines surround the window.
Mornings as easily as ghosts arrive, like spring snow
collected on sills as the May-crow appears

in the yellow kitchen with the rose-colored counters
where green ivy vines surround the window
and spirits come in from indigo hours.
There is Mucha on the walls, Parrish on a matchbook

in the yellow kitchen with the rose-colored counters
where green ivy vines surround the window,
and spirits come in from indigo hours
looking for words in earthen jars of cinnamon sticks, brown sugar, and flour.
_______