Friday, June 12, 2009

sun tattoo

survival sighs into the
base chakra spinning
above the third rail,

feels itself trying
to jump start
a life...

(in spite of wet tracks)

sparks and sputters,
now slowing again,
the secret clock geometry

cogs in a soul that won't quite mesh,
weather worn fence slats stitching
the hem of ocean and sand

lifted and poised,
in arabesque dna
twin runners, twisted rusty wire
suspended yet animated
by wind and breath,

shadow figure trophies
blowing across the horizon of hope

revealing a red sun,
passionate orb come
to waken corpse cocoons

beams of light pry them loose

roots of fruited trees
and ripening thoughts
of new direction,

up words...

blood blooms
from the selkie skin,
tattooing the sun into my pelt,

a spinal column lease to close a gap
between kissing on dirty knees

no longer begging for a love so half-hearted or remote.

6.12.09 © acn

Saturday, May 16, 2009


your lover,
did she have blue eyes?

was that what made
the sky seem so beautiful?

or did the clouds
find their way into your vision
seeking to veil
the lights between
your eyes and her eyes

or did the trees stretch across it
blocking the view, reaching into black night
like the fibers of her iris,
her pupil nesting twin souls,
yours and hers...

this is also why you remember
to laugh and gaze into the sun
because the sky is so, so blue...

spun into billowing shrines
of glowing lighted mirth

with no bearing on the cry of gulls
or the imploring look of a child
eager to play in wind and rain

but the feeling, the density of solemn smiling mystery,
the agile lucid sublime melody of strings within

is all the reason to forego the warnings
of electric chakra temples and silence

5.14.09 © acn

Sunday, February 8, 2009

threading truth

step lightly
in moccasin

seeing the breath of trees
hearing the language of water
knowing the ancients speak in secrets

so that we will learn to listen again

each of seven generations
are pockets of mystery
wanting of seeds
filling of minds
growing new worlds
with old thoughts

mending lives
with long grey hairs
finding grandmother's path

shaking beads into a pan
and calling them gold
the design is sewn

2.4.09 © acn

Saturday, January 24, 2009



could mean there might be
someone in the trees listening

or a deep snowfall delaying the day's routine

even a harsh lover with biting kisses
strict commands and silent vows

each sensation a subtle
madness enticing the pulse

"move closer..."

was dust, distraction, something
that could happen naturally had
she not been told to do so

her native defiance reared up
like a sequined unicorn dancer

running towards virginal music


Saturday, January 3, 2009

sea mother

tears are shallow
salty soldiers of futility
so far below the waves

anemone eyes sway
tendrils of sorrow
bright seahorse havens

empty coral beds echo
water-gypsy tunes

like wind scraping a hollow bone
across a broken windowpane

their silent algae plea
a scattered krill symphony

that no longer calls forth
the magic of ozone

a weeping mother
must be healed
at all costs

tears are hollow
vapor mercenaries
trails gouging across
the faces of cloud people

burning our sacred sky temple

where light keeps breath and sleep
things that should not be wasted

sacred marrow from the last
unicorn's spire can not be taken

1.03.09 © acn