Slow Dance with Day

So you wanna know what it's like?

Imagine being suspended in thin air by 

The peach fuzz of Miles Davis' 

Blue Note recordings;

His trumpet, blaring its very bearings and bone

For the sake of my own pleasure.

Le soleil embrasse mes joues

Et le ciel me demande de danser.

And just like that:

The wind's got one palm in the small of my back,

('Neath the nook in my black).

I acquiesce,

My smile buried deep in the light of his chest;

Slow heaving breaths in rugged pine
or maple sap
perhaps hint of mahogany.

While the crystalline creek
counts our steady beat, unsteady feet-

I have never felt so loved.

Postscript// French to English translation:
Le soleil embrasse me joues, et le ciel me demande de danser.
The sun kisses my cheeks and the heavens ask me to dance.

ABOUT: I am so in love with this beautiful planet Earth.

Fencing with Night

In combat, the only barrier between the blade

and your throbbing jugular 

is the way you wield your weaponry.

Shield too quickly, your cover is blown:

Now, how will you atone for your lapse of judgement?

Strike delayed, with breath belated,

Your opponent's fate has been betrayed.

But shadows?

Shadows?

Who cower like cowards 

At the hands of what's right.

And how does one fight a mere trick of light?

Master such art as fencing with night?

Lasso the setting sun and beg him to stay.

Sway dusk with truth and reason.

My dark is tired; this body is treason.

My dark is tired, but won't let me mourn it.

To grasp this bull by both its horns,

I tell the Devil "No"

The Devil knows his death is sworn.

ABOUT: Luke 10:17, 18- "'Lord, even the demons are made subject to us by the use of your name." At that he said to them: "I see Satan already fallen like lightning from heaven."

White Sheep, White Wound

 

We stood some ways back from the bleating hordes of white cloud. 

Just distant enough to catch soft drift of their thick musk,

Too close for them to believe in our abandonment.

Most of them lay lazy fluff and warm,

Unashamed at the ease with which
their fat bodies hugged the supple earth.

So at ease, our own cheeks flush fevered with guilt;

We could not understand that freedom.

One girl, though, lingered
a few feet from the pack that stretched for miles.

You knelt nose-to-nose with her
urging with your fingertips
through the course of coarse fur
to tell you what went wrong.

She exhausted herself at your knees,

Pangs of black and white pain
jolting from her underside. 

Why aren't the others helping her?

"Well don't just stand there,"
that overease beckoned me to berate them.

Not one of us could see where a thorny branch
had torn clean through the fleece and
left her there to brave the blow alone.

ABOUT: I think maybe we've all been hurt in ways no one is aware of but God.