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Saturday, 27 June 2009
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Albion
We race the falling sun beyond
the yellow hills and past
green grape vines
and barns bending into meadows under
their roofs painted the color of dried blood.
The highway points west, leaping
out over cliffs edging a fury
deep within the churning waves.
The sleek, cloud gray feathers
of seabirds lift in the sea wind
over the Albion River docks,
my father whistles between his fingers—
a call to the ospreys, whose audience of children
watches from below, its talons around
a limp carcass of scales.
The foghorn beyond the bridge
bellows through the night
and into dawn, a beast tormented
by the surge of cold tide.
Wet velvet harbor seals raise their
round faces studded with hollow black eyes,
to stare at fisherman navigating past exposed rocks
in first light, a smell of decaying kelp
wafting through the thick, tranquil fog.
In the woodsmoke mornings
the beach is quiet, the sand a dismal gray
becoming alive with pebble of seaglass,
studded in lavender and green and cobalt blue.
They are heavy in my pockets—
treasures, sheltered touchstones.
The dampening breeze carries a mysteriousness
so profound that I am moved to stop
and stare out over the water
to drink it with every part
of me.
Tuesday, 23 June 2009
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Robin's Song
For my Papa on Father's Day
For the first time
I notice a few gray hairs
in the stubble on my father's chin,
they shine like the blades of grass and
powdered yellow calla lilies
in leathery white sheaths
reflected in the lenses of
his glasses.
Bespectacled and warm from
the sweating beer in his fist,
he looks tired as he stands
slouched near the stone fire pit.
He still smells like coffee in
the mornings when the sleep is not yet
rubbed from his eyes,
the way he hugs me is wholly
and undistractedly comforting,
like the robin's song echoing
throughout the calm forests in summer,
columns of light beaming to the ground
from the gaps in the canopy overhead,
the song drifts lazily over our heads,
through the sawdust from his woodshop—
it clings in a taupe powder to his
broad shoulders, I dust it away, the two of us giddy,
and I suddenly feel the urge to tell him I am sorry,
but I do not know what for.
Tuesday, 05 May 2009
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Take Me With You to the Sunshine Side
One of these days,
I hope you can
run away with one
of the men who sit
at the bar late into the night,
and then you will find the halo
you lost while trailing it in the
grass behind you in the mountain
meadow somewhere on the sunshine
side of memories and seasons
and remember me, pleading
to take me with you.
Monday, 27 April 2009
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To Blank, From Blank
When I woke up, you were already gone.
I'm sorry I missed you and couldn't say goodbye.
I made the bed again the way you like it,
with the sheets tucked in tight above the
boxsprings.
You left without your coat, so I hung
it up in the hall closet. Hope you're
not cold today in this winter weather.
I won't be here if you come home today,
I've gone away for a little while, but I'll
be back next summer when the sun is
golden again.
I hope you know you didn't have to
kiss my bruises, but I let you anyway
because you said you wanted to.
My heart is in the jelly jar on the
third shelf of the refrigerator,
in case you want it later.
Friday, 24 April 2009
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Wilder Ranch
Together they stand quietly watching the
swallows in the barns, their knife
wings slicing the musty air;
they feed the horses the
meadow their fleshy muzzles
couldn't reach through the
gaps in the fence; the
forest becomes quiet around them,
the dead trees are skeletons
growing up into the sky;
lizards scurry in the grass
when she plucks a stalk of
dandelion seeds, white tufts of
goose down parachuting away
from the green center bud, and when she
purses her lips and scatters the seeds
he looks at her like he knows
what she is wishing for.
BLBruce
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- Name: BLBruce
- Gender: Female
- Member Since: 1/6/2009
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About Me
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I am a young writer and poet currently attending the University of California at Santa Cruz to study Modern Literature and Poetry. I am self-published and have been writing for nearly ten years. Also, all of the photos featured on my site were taken by me. Photography is another one of my passions... I welcome and encourage criticism, positive and negative feedback on any and all of my work. Thanks for visitng my site!
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It's been a productive day. Lot's of new entries and even my first prose submission. Let me know what you think :]
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