Love Letter, part 2

•January 9, 2014 • 3 Comments

My breath,
Two nights ago I sat down
Face to face with you for hours
I did not let myself think of time
I simply felt your arrival
Your departure
And because I did not float away
Or let go of you or become lost
I found a trust I have seldom known
Complete and total, giving over
Without prompt or warning
A voice whispered in my head
Telling me to trust my body
To let the pain that comes
Take care of itself
To let the fictions that fill the space
Show themselves and be gone
And I did, almost without will
I stayed with you
I let the rest of it pass that place
Not because I was told to
But because I chose to
I did not move
And in my stillness
Found affection and perhaps, regret
That we will not always be like this
There will be days, nights
That I forget
And one day you will leave me
My body will remain, for awhile
Cold and empty, slowly breaking down
Left alone, unknown
I do not know if I will miss you then
Or if I will simply be, nothing
But I think perhaps I miss you even now
Because it occurs to me so clearly
That I have lived so long not knowing you
And only just realized
All you have to show, to teach
If only I would find you face to face
My breath,
Today I sat down at the top of the stairs
In a pocket of warm air
And remembered you again
And wept

— A.R.

20140109-103628.jpg

Roman Statue Affection

The Mirror’s Edge

•January 8, 2014 • 1 Comment

How close can I get to me
When is my breath all that I see
Cold reflection crisp with lines
The space around me fills in time

When face to face at last I sit
And leaning toward my nose’s tip
Contact is made with mirror’s edge
Nothing sure but fog of breath

Leaning back some steam remains
Stories about me enter frame
Tactile trust intimacy
How close I get is up to me

— April Resnick

 

20140108-232803.jpg

My Buddha

•January 8, 2014 • 2 Comments

As many times
It made me
Sing
My God
Impermanence
Still sires a sting

— A.R.

20140108-102341.jpg

Impermanence by jubliantlaine at deviantART

Time to Land

•January 7, 2014 • 2 Comments

The solstice brought me to burrow
So I nestled in the shadows of a home
My eyelids drifted closed
I slowly slipped and fell into dreams
Suspended animation, stagnation
My mind ballooned beneath me
Carried me gently as I collapsed
Visions of hearth and holidays
Tilted past on all sides
Music played from far away
Table tops and troubles
Turned tipsy with too much time
But now I see it black and white
Below me peeled linoleum
A solid place to sit, to ground
The draft is dying
My toes touch down
I inhale one last bit of wonder
And all of me exhales
Wake up Alice!

— A.R.

Alice River Bank David Hall

Alice on the River Bank, an art still by David Hall

Self Portrait

•January 7, 2014 • 2 Comments

One mistress
I cannot explain
Why I am haunted these last days
Those eyes have captured me
And coming back to look again
The tilt and shadow of hat on skin
Obscuring furrowed wit, wisdom
A captivating contrast to the pale
Framing sharp dark page-boy hair
Monochrome
Broken by lips
Barely reddened by so slight a grin
Crisp white collar relays
But form under jacket betrays
And those gloves, those clever gloves of grey
Masculine denied by feminine whispers
Feminine shored up by masculine lines
Power in the moment where roles unwind
Surely harsh built formations blur
Blending into the background
Do I want
Her
To be
Her
One mistress
No master

— A.R.

Self Portrait Romaine Brooks

Self Portrait by Romaine Brooks

Reposted, reworked, because I stumbled upon her portrait again and was just as captivated as the first time I saw her.

A Fiction

•January 6, 2014 • 3 Comments

There lies a book
At the bottom of the stairs
I see it while I sit
Tangible and still
Aware
I half expect it will open
On its own and bend
Itself backward over its spine
A literary Slinky in rewind
Up the stairs crawling
Cover over cover
End over pages end
Against all laws
Of nature nurture nothing
Until it nestles itself
In my lap
I cannot tell
If it is yet begun
But the ending bell
It has not rung
So
I
Will
Not
Look
Only feel its body
Heavy against my thighs
Horror moving up my spine
What does it want
From me a story
A reader a writer a recycler
A soul to fill itself full
To tip me towards its starting place
Original
To become ours
A partner for the falling
Limbs and contents mingling
In a blur of page and person
Until we hit the bottom
Ending both with crooked spines
A heap of unknown bent
Paper cut and crumpled
All undone but finally
Resting
As it was
First begun

— A.R.

ghost on the stairs marianna armata
i_sat_at_the_top_of_the_stairs_julia_kay

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

I Sat at the Top of the Stairs by Julia Kay

Blank

•January 4, 2014 • Leave a Comment

Locked
In a library
Beautiful books
Line the walls
Bound
To pass the time
I take one down
Blank Inside
As are they all

— A.R.

Blank Books

Painting by Kate Stone

http://paintingstufftolooklikestuff.blogspot.com

Another bit of poetry inspired by a dream.

The Fool

•January 2, 2014 • 3 Comments

 

I am not a fool

For having stories

Fill my head

Magic

I am a fool

For blind belief

In any of them

Tragic

 

— A.R.

 

juggler michael parkesThe Juggler by Michael Parkes

Tiny Dragon

•December 30, 2013 • Leave a Comment

Tiny dragon
On the floor
When stepped on
It is I who roars
My fire out
I simply pout
And leave you
Lazy like before

— April Resnick

tiny_dragon_Painting

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Tiny Dragon found here:
http://s403.photobucket.com/user/TPishek/media/tiny_dragon_Painting.jpg.html

The One

•December 30, 2013 • 2 Comments

I am not one dimension
Though many need me to be
Twists and turns and blind corners
Make a labyrinth in me

There is more than one note
Pinging off walls in my skull
Whispers, sonnets, and screams
Escaping freely when full

I make multiple movements
Inside this skin of mine
At once lady and whore
Rebellious and refined

Then there are moments
I am quiet and still
Teaching me of observance
Tiny control of my will

I’ll take it all while I’m making
You want to smile and to run
But wanting all of it with me
Is what makes you the one

— April Resnick

20131230-184108.jpg

Husband and Wife, Love and Life by Frank McFadden