Spring # 6

spring is for weariness
for feeling frayed around the edges
for splitting my seams
and arching my back

moments

morning

clutching at my scarf
around my bare neck
I walked through the 
6 o clock softness

I could see the morning
sharpening around me

angles, acuity, awakening

afternoon

nature, thick and intricate
folds and unfolds around me
in a bower
I think about
this woman
how her rosy cheeks
lay me bare
my rib cage aches and
expands
with warm desire
and the trees on the terrace
seem to grip at my skin

evening

rain drips sporadically
thunderously loud
wrenching sleep from my fitful mind
and heavy body
promising a weary day tomorrow

I am tired
I creak and groan
I need something fresh
it is slow, subtle torture

Sea Monsters

There is a darkness to the ocean tonight
a heavy purple grey
as I walk along the shoreline
water swells around my ankles
and salt wind whips at my cheeks
with a fierce cold

I have come here tonight
in search of abandoned treasures

Above me soars a mighty albatross
a massive creature of the sea and sky
thundering through blue
and calling out in
shrill desire
when he stretches his wings
in a graceful trajectory
the span of his reach blocks the sun
and bathes me in shadow.

There is a darkness to the ocean tonight

Here, along this grey estuary is where grand things
Dilapidate and drift
Here is where we receive regal ruins
Of the fearsome sea

Something chthonic
has submerged
and sprawled upon the shore
dismantled itself
and scattered its organs upon the estuary

We clamber over his body
a heaving, hursuit mass
his face
shrouded in seaweed
like a veiled bride

An old king has come to this place to die
his weary majesty
lies at my feet, rotting.
I can smell it