Monday, November 1, 2010

Your bright new high

You’ve found a way
to carve knotwood
into balsam wings,
and there you glide
all grins above the street

even your ragged cuffs
stay clean now, as
your giggle swells
on your bright new high

your eyes graze me and
I wonder what you see
since they throw off
shards of blue and green,
no hint refracted
from my bitter grime

Rachel Westfall
November 1, 2010


christopher said...

And as you know, I replied this way,

Pink Rain

I hope you get it,
get how difficult it is
to turn wood into
lighter than air craft.
It may appear that I am
all giggles and grins
but the spells I wove
took the stuffing out of me,
have left me hollow,
cracked and now leaking
the hydraulics of my soul,
an oily pink rain.

November 1, 2010 1:47 PM

Leonie Lemphers said...

Lovely. I could hear the giggle :)

Anthony Duce said...

Like this a lot. The image of flying, and being above the grime is a familiar one, from youthful dreams.

Rob-bear said...


On rough rock outcropping
reclining Bear surveys
the meadow below
wearing its autumnal shroud
ere winter's play begins.

Squirrels dart and chatter.
Rabbits nibble a little
of summer’s leftovers
then scatter.
The lone coyote lies low
waiting for another chance
to dine.

Bear sees them all
living their own ways
yet in some sacred harmony
that makes the view seem good,
and relishes their re-acquaintance
come spring.