Categories
personal poetic

Ahniwa from OlyWa

Well-situated. Killer house, well-located.
L’azur, a hint of purple.
Weaver of blue immobilities.
I’ve rowed ‘neath the eyes of floating jails;
I’ve arrived home at last.

Boulder Poems

– Vic’s Boulder Cafe –

Small, blonde foreign boy;
agé de dix ans.
Already mastered the european casual:
lifts his shirt to scratch an itch,
shows off a tan stomach, unabashed;
scratches, stretches: fingers to toes;
lets his shirt fall and
without so much as a glance around
performs a flawless crotch-grab.

Later, as he speaks, his language
sounds northern: swedish or dutch.
His mother, a 6′2″ twig of a woman –
all limbs, a long neck to put
swans to shame, a face unmarred
by time and childbirth – stands
still, graceful, waiting for heaven
to chase her down.

– Boulder & Alabaster –

As long as I can,
I’ll breathe:
out: fog against the alabaster
of your skin, chalk yearning fragility;
in: the scent of our grinding together,
both the chisel,
both the clay.
We are our greatest masterpiece,
our magnificent opus:
you the sonata;
I the operatic laughter of the baritone
breaking against the orchestral pit.

Dig deep,
past the clay.
There is water here.
I promise I’ll hold on
just as long as I can.

/Boulder Poems

The hiatus is back off, again.