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Tag Archives: aubades
:: And suddenly the day’s cracked open like a broken storm,with me alone at center. :: In November, we poem. This one’s an aubade.
The day cracks open (again) too soon, all broken yolk goo and too-bright sky. She wasn’t quite finished with that silken moon, the silver-blackeyed promises of stars. It’s got sharp edges and a bird-song sting, too many things and not enough salt. ::PAD, day 22.
Crack open that bright blue dawn and watch the sun yawn and stretch again, begin to light our f(l)ight. We raise wings and sing, abide in deeper things than the morrows and sorrows of this place. This day, we find grace in the staying. :: it’s Quadrille … Continue reading
We forget her scar -let dress is just for early risin’, surprisin’ us with all its crimson silk applause. Pause, take a second ………..look , and book a table for two near the horizon. .. Prompted by Poetic Asides. … Continue reading
(an ovillejo aubade) .. She borrowed light of moon …………too soon to hold the stars above …………with love. And by the break of dawn, …………she’s gone. But in her parting song, you’ll find a hidden line that holds you just … Continue reading
She’s doing some aching again, greeting the day with open hands and a moaning heart, starting a song on this sky piano with knuckles lost to greater fights. She’s right at the center of that rising sun, mourning loss … Continue reading
.. before the sun stretches hot and bold, we hold one last gaze at the nothingness of fickle fallen stars. .. twiglet #64.
.. You say to talk about her in a new way and I must tell you I am exhausted. She exhausts me. My nouns. My verbs. My inky veins. I have quilled her a thou -sand poems in paper sky, … Continue reading