Origami Days

Oh to talk of fingers in motion:
That this might be how galaxies are
Angled into place with such focus as
A simple pattern might ignite
New universes with helices
Contorted fold by fold
Until appear a magnitude of stars
All bent from her patient hands and
Offered up for dreams.
– 30 August 2015

Breeze over the lake

With a stretch they crunch uncrunch and gasp
while magnet ducks lulled like toys nod through
ruffled air demanding you pirouette,
there a one-two, punch-punch-swift exhale
here she levitates that cooing child
by shimmering nebula’s pebbled paths
a pair arrives like Doppler waves
performing their two-step in unison
as city’s patient ‘scape drowns horizon
revolves and all is submerged, vanished
as erratic days erupt into emptiness
leaving a single inhalation of life.
– 20 August

A Rough Poem

Even fingerprints whose foggy dunes
Leave too few spaces between rough and smooth,
Where life’s textures nestle in silence
— Orphaned thoughts — vacant memories.

For what hand, what ship can bear an
Unexpected soul weight delivered across
Life’s unflattened ocean, tilting on torrents
Of gritty misery or slippery despair?

Between hard and soft
Exists no medium
With which to grip
Each yesterday.

– 18 August