above

Posted on June 19, 2012 by Susan L Daniels

in this state
of spirit locked to matter
this mind, this head
thinks too highly of itself
separated from the rest of flesh
by a thin columnar neck

so we say, mind over matter
and not so much spirit versus flesh
because we can see the separation;
when all is the same animal
with spirit, with mind
all made magical
and together fused

unless, forgetting this,
this head fans its own greatness,
pure thought expanding like heated air
in a brilliant, rainbow balloon

takes flight and floats me with it
to land who knows where

Posted in New Free Verse | Tagged , , , | 21 Comments

now, you love me

Posted on June 19, 2012 by Susan L Daniels

after anger and fear,
after name-calling
and bleeding souls

after we have torn each other
like fighting wildcats
or ravenous sharks

you would say you love me.

Well, love,
what speaks from your heart
is not love but terror
of waking and walking alone

which are things not to run from
but to, arms open, savoring peace
and hearing the voices of our own spirits
and, dare I say it–God, yes, God
speaking to us in rolls of silence
that will buoy us, carry us across the ocean
our ship sank in

do not look to me for answers.
Forgiveness, yes,
but I have only questions myself;
those, and that glittering thing in my palms
we shattered together

careful!
Don’t touch
dreams draw blood
real blood, sometimes
when they break.

Posted in New Free Verse | Tagged , | 15 Comments

because you made me smile this is yours

Posted on June 19, 2012 by Susan L Daniels

this is yours
because today you coaxed out
a smile from where it hid
in a corner, pale and dusty
and it flew to my lips
and stayed sweet

because your gifts are a rush
of hummingbird wings
on my eyelids, a necklace
of fireflies

and sun stroking my cheek

with gentle assurance
that this warming is welcome
a touch I lean into

this is yours because you make joy
less fleeting and more a palpable thing

Posted in New Free Verse | Tagged , , | 24 Comments

binocular eyes forward

Posted on June 18, 2012 by Susan L Daniels

I want multifaceted insect vision

the world dancing
in hundreds of frames
fusing into what kind
of picture
in a mind
that is more ganglion
than anything

or, I want to turn my head
180 degrees, owl-like and feathered
to see where I have been
or what’s chasing me
clearly, kind of a facing down
while running away

but neither option
is available.

For whatever reason
we see weakly

and not behind us,
always forward
in a strange
biological confidence

Posted in New Free Verse | Tagged , | 18 Comments

nothing civil

Posted on June 18, 2012 by Susan L Daniels

there is nothing civil
in this warring
eye to eye

I count the raised blood vessels
in your eyes/lack of sleep
or too much smoke
or perhaps even grief
scrawling the whites with red ink
loss written
in a language I can’t read

for the first time
I taste something thick
and metallic in my throat–
almost fear

but words are your fists
they always have been
and my fists and shield, still

there are no bruises
on either body
but spirits bleed, too
and they will heal
slower than skin does
or broken bones

my eyes are clear
even after pushing us both
past hope,
beyond breaking hearts

not knowing
where this will take you

but hoping
it will guide you
out the door

***Big thank you to Ian Moore, who wrote about civil war, which prompted this write out.

Posted in New Free Verse | Tagged , , | 14 Comments

Creekwalking

Posted on June 17, 2012 by Susan L Daniels

My son rides a stone tortoise
half risen and sunning
water carved, sun-split, ice etched shell
solid in laughing water
cold as new rain
and carving my feet,

also slowly
like the stones
shaped like turtles
but headless
I erode too

my cells
slipping silently from skin
carried into the lake
slowly, microscopically
unmissed

and part of something bigger now
that these shallow currents

Posted in New Free Verse | Tagged , , | 8 Comments

ocean

Posted on June 17, 2012 by Susan L Daniels

not sky
but surface
dances
dips
swells

undersurface
filtering light
limit
of swim
and leap

through thinness
returning
with gills
gasping

but some
drink deep
dive inside
particulate
salted thickness

breathe
down
with them

into blue gray
cold warm
current highways
carrying glacier
or lava touch

filtered through
coral forests
dying reefs
whale falls
sustaining life cycles
100 years

mouthless
swallow
of sponges
endlessly
and always hungry

salt eye
and bleeding salt
witnesses

where sand dries
we breathe stinking life
almost tasting it

moon pull
answered
thrust up
and drag
never meeting
that summons

shove of wind
and gravity stretch
together
reactive to each
touching
nothing
but wind
and light

earth and stone
continents
push back

contain

walls
to break down
protesting tongueless
pounding fists
dashed formless

shouts in
messaged water
scrape
and steal sand
to reflect
motion
rippled also
on the floor

always
bleeding
tide pools

and empty shells

***Another experimental piece for me.  Last night, I tried to capture the movement of the ocean here, inspired by something my friend Jeremy said–I succeeded for about the first stanza.  Oh well, I do like the images engendered in the effort, though…

Posted in New Free Verse | Tagged , , , | 18 Comments