pigment

there are times I feel it wash over me like the crests of distant oceans,
when corrosion is nothing more than a few days worth of eager impatience-
waiting to stack the waning wood piles high with gasoline coatings as the
old foreigner blue jays sing,
vicious, soaring libertines-
supposedly spiritual symbolism that sometimes spontaneously
chokes you:
distant and mocking.
Yet a resonance of your stretched taut smile,
under the history of darkened Southern lit streets, in the feared fluorescent grocery aisle,
morphs the memories of false whimsies
into shades of future paintings-lights in the mountain villages and trees,
trains that only flee onward into the invisible cities of blue hour vagaries:
suddenly-
it is rather unthreatening,
recalling
the reminders of days you felt the sting
of ambivalence shake your roots like an unrecognizable pair of eyes
in a red lipped smudged mirror
after night mist
(set in and settled in your calcium-deficient bones).
Only now they creep upon you like the reposed recognition of happiness,
outpourings of admittance and proliferation like spring showers
in the beckoning field light
of morning,
when the drought is at its weakest
and the terrors crouching belly-flat beneath the floorboards of home
are only quivers of earth, now
like miniscule, mysterious seeds of delight,
meant to rattle the lungs and flat land plains of familiar territory
with new fight evident in their book-end fringed eyes,
(pages upon pages of beautiful, poised artifacts, now alive)
becoming echoes of folk tales around fires,
succumbing,
when everyone knows exactly when the bean stalk begins its growth,
can sense the dirt shaking beneath their curled toes.





(like water for chocolate),
i will be
your carefully contemplated ambivalence towards technology,
your favorite instilled and installed gift of ideology,
your specialty ingredient, fresh-baked cakewalk reward,
your sexually explicit diving board,
your 1000 years of solitude,
your pre and post creation music mood,
your freedom river waterfall walk,
your bedroom artwork stolen chalk,
your everything free-falling, flying, and flowing,
the children you raise beyond candlelit autumn sowing,
the movement of your point to point,
the oil that heals each premature creaking joint,
the learning that blossom-feeds your large cowboy-hatted head from every (forgiven) ego driven instance,
the conquering and delivering of every new country's distance,
the softly inhaled dust of your centuries birthing ancestry and crossing blood lines,
the building of villas and vine-strewn gardens that embody the beginnings of family wines,
the seeping of your silent stillness,
the raging of your self nemesis.




(like connect the dot chakras in mediation),
you are
my canopy of zipline refuge alongside fresh mango strewn leaves,
my shifting season-weather skin metamorphoses,
my pureed purified water pancakes (not flawless in shape but perfect in taste) upon waking,
my gleeful, leaping jump into epic leaf piles after heaven sent sweaty afternoons of raking,
my homemade salsa, immaculate enchilada cravings fulfilled,
my mid-winter hot spring dip sigh of relief involuntarily spilled,
my inexplainable, irreversible "chemical reaction,"
my sunburned headrush of simple, pacific satisfaction,
my home brightening houseplant leaves and blooms, purified oxygen,
the foreign sunbeams & moonrays coaxing my eyelids open upon the lands of every place i've been,
the hand constructed bridge for Mecci's pond,
the unexplained lightshow through the glowing horizon fog,
the magical realism growing wild,
the triumph attained with each unpaved mile,
the dictionary of favorite nursery rhymes,
the rocks that pull me skywards on solitary and shared mountain climbs,
the gleam in my masked eyes above naked flesh deep within November wood,
the absorbent petal protection, my goblin Robin-hood.





the most organic, timeless phenomenon
has lit the wicks of my life.
and around every corner i find
more reason.