Brindled

A heart endlessly elaborating
To hands,
Its voice murmuring rhythms
For weaving into the world.

Dappled with redemption
A brindled song unspools,
Its hues tangled
Light and dark.

Winding away impurities,
Bending filth and ash
into clarity and light,
Lyrics knit from love.

Fragment

The bones in my back
Creak and crack,
Failing
To unfold into wings.
Steam bent ribs
Shivering themselves
To splinters
Broken for flight.

The Angel of incidence
Equals the Devil of refraction —
An arrow
Fletched with feathers of light
Shattered against ugly
As sin, physik
Ricocheted outward
Reflecting what is hunched
Inward.

Underwhirl

Save our souls, those of us lashed windward.
I’ve tempted the Coriolis of your anger —
Unleashing Cyclones and whirlwinds,
Glass popping, timbers snapping,
The wanton release of wildfire:

The underwhirl of a dark planet —
The spin of its mass
And specific gravity
Pulling waves and wind
Into furious alignment.

The aftermath
As impossible to calculate
As the beforemath.
The weight of all the ash
Drifting underfoot, the last snuffling sparks.

Ripen

If anger should spike in your heart
And bear fruit
Like some prickly pear,
Gladly I would suffer the insult
To my lips and tongue
As my teeth peel away
The rind of lost faith
And seek
The Temptation of Eve
Within.

If disappointment
Sours your soul
Until a knobbled quince,
The quintessence of memory
Ugly and bitter,
I will wrap you
In the heat of my embrace
Until you are released
In clouds of honey, clove and wine.

You know I am rabid
For you
And if you worry
I will devour you
Like ripe fruit
You are right.