A Maze

August 8, 2012August 8, 2012 / Arambler / 1 Comment

Once I’ve driven those day
dreams of a dead man
(almost my lover) off the dirt
road, I lay down
on cool stone
to sleep. And dream of you,

a living man
(never my lover). I don’t control
stories that get told
while I sleep. Lyric
never narrative. A complicated card
game I couldn’t play,

I give up and walk down bent
corridors with you
looking back
at me. Is it still there—
that precious
metal band? I can’t see

your left hand.
Into the labyrinth—
a kiss. I wake
to imprint this sweet
consolation prize
on the day.

I Wouldn’t Dive into You

August 4, 2012August 4, 2012 / Arambler / 1 Comment

Or wade
through your holy
waters. Sacred
mud is best
left unstirred
by human feet. Bone
won’t regenerate. So I live
for restabilization
and the myths
of power lost,
forgotten, accidentally
regained that wash
up after late
summer storms.

Emerald Coat

July 30, 2012July 30, 2012 / Arambler / Leave a comment

She only hugs me
tighter when the wind picks up
fear and tosses it wickedly
through early fall air. I am proud

to say my hue draws
attention. She blushes
and says thank you as if
they were complimenting her, as if

it were her radiant skin
brightening up the morning. But
she can talk—I can’t. So
there’s that.

Without Words

July 29, 2012July 29, 2012 / Arambler / Leave a comment

Ready? I couldn’t be
more so. Bronze and
hollowed out. A representation

of a shell to protect
living flesh from otherworldly
showers, I live

in imagination. My darkened
green sleeves peering
through heavy

snow—a figment of a woman’s
realized. Disembodied
lips and an armless mannequin

pillar dance with me
on marble over grass. Who’s
watching? Everyone—and
I am cleansed.

(Inspired by Judith Shea’s sculpture of the same name)

Natural Climbers

July 18, 2012July 18, 2012 / Arambler / Leave a comment

Straw was a factor
in his fall. No one drowned
in the river
that day. No more bridges

collapsed

that year. Hay is for
the rest of the time
he considers descent.

Wheel

July 17, 2012July 17, 2012 / Arambler / Leave a comment

“He who works with his hands is a laborer.
He who works with his hands and his head is a craftsman.
He who works with his hands and his head and his heart is an artist.”
― Saint Francis of Assisi

She wants to be
the one who creates
art without using

her hands—wants to be
all heart. When she gets
what she wants, it’s time

to recalibrate
the colors—blue for logic,
green for emotion, yellow

for rigor, red
for everything else.