Please check out our friends websites on our LINKS page. If you have any comments or questions, please EMAIL US.
ALL RIGHTS RESERVED
ALL THE MUSIC AND ARTWORK ON THIS WEBSITE IS DISPLAYED UNDER A
CREATIVE COMMONS LICENSE
ALL RIGHTS RESERVED
ALL THE MUSIC AND ARTWORK ON THIS WEBSITE IS DISPLAYED UNDER A
CREATIVE COMMONS LICENSE
RED DIRT POETRY
the bill collector
The bill collector arrived at my door today.
I let him in and sat him in the parlor.
He declined my offer of sweet tea
as he perched on my sofa in creased khakis, polished brogues,
and his brimmed straw hat held lightly between finger and thumb.
A portrait of gentility.
I left him, grateful for his discretion of intent,
and headed down the hall to my bedroom closet.
From the top shelf, I pulled down my grandmother’s not too dusty hat box.
I sat on the closet floor and sifted each memory:
A shadowed basement office full
of things fossilized, thought dead.
A reawakening,
a saving,
a grace.
A haloed harvest moon,
a cornfield,
a blanket and you.
Some back road late at night
and teenagers trying to steal our car – ha!
A saturnine wit.
A love lost and found and lost.
Another, lost and found again.
All too late.
I cried as I bundled up each one of these together.
I understand the bill collector’s point of view:
Debts must be paid in order for us to move on, to move forward.
He gently pries the damp bundle from my fingers.
I watch him drive away through the parlor room’s window,
grateful for this one indiscretion he has allowed.
Tucked in the far reaches of my closet’s corners,
behind the old chest of drawers,
and underneath the lavender scented sachet,
lies an ocean-hued tourmaline.
“Passion’s eyes,” you said.
“Love’s blind,” I said.
The bill collector arrived at my door today.
I let him in and sat him in the parlor.
He declined my offer of sweet tea
as he perched on my sofa in creased khakis, polished brogues,
and his brimmed straw hat held lightly between finger and thumb.
A portrait of gentility.
I left him, grateful for his discretion of intent,
and headed down the hall to my bedroom closet.
From the top shelf, I pulled down my grandmother’s not too dusty hat box.
I sat on the closet floor and sifted each memory:
A shadowed basement office full
of things fossilized, thought dead.
A reawakening,
a saving,
a grace.
A haloed harvest moon,
a cornfield,
a blanket and you.
Some back road late at night
and teenagers trying to steal our car – ha!
A saturnine wit.
A love lost and found and lost.
Another, lost and found again.
All too late.
I cried as I bundled up each one of these together.
I understand the bill collector’s point of view:
Debts must be paid in order for us to move on, to move forward.
He gently pries the damp bundle from my fingers.
I watch him drive away through the parlor room’s window,
grateful for this one indiscretion he has allowed.
Tucked in the far reaches of my closet’s corners,
behind the old chest of drawers,
and underneath the lavender scented sachet,
lies an ocean-hued tourmaline.
“Passion’s eyes,” you said.
“Love’s blind,” I said.
bittersweet
Smells like summer rain.
Crumbles like the edges
of old letters.
Thin-skinned and vulnerable,
It is blue with veins.
Heartbreaking.
Heartrending.
It puzzles.
It baffles.
It bewilders.
Crashes like oceans,
carving continents.
It displaces solid ground.
Poignant and woeful.
Star-crossed and unglued.
It is me.
Tied up, done for.
It is you.
Unbound.
Smells like summer rain.
Crumbles like the edges
of old letters.
Thin-skinned and vulnerable,
It is blue with veins.
Heartbreaking.
Heartrending.
It puzzles.
It baffles.
It bewilders.
Crashes like oceans,
carving continents.
It displaces solid ground.
Poignant and woeful.
Star-crossed and unglued.
It is me.
Tied up, done for.
It is you.
Unbound.
rc cola – reprise
Twelve,
Balancing Precariously,
Believing,
Sulky Lips.
Watching,
She Sees Him
Dressed:
Lee’s,
High-tops,
Holy
T-Shirt.
Surprised,
She Falls
Suddenly,
Head
Swaying
Into Hands.
His Eyes
Speaking:
Hi
RC,
Moon Pie.
Childhood Erupting,
Echo Laughs.
Curiously,
She Leaning.
He Beneath
Takes Bites,
Bliss.
Forgotten Lies,
Whipping Breeze.
She’s Delicately
Tasting
Heaven.
Twelve,
Balancing Precariously,
Believing,
Sulky Lips.
Watching,
She Sees Him
Dressed:
Lee’s,
High-tops,
Holy
T-Shirt.
Surprised,
She Falls
Suddenly,
Head
Swaying
Into Hands.
His Eyes
Speaking:
Hi
RC,
Moon Pie.
Childhood Erupting,
Echo Laughs.
Curiously,
She Leaning.
He Beneath
Takes Bites,
Bliss.
Forgotten Lies,
Whipping Breeze.
She’s Delicately
Tasting
Heaven.
nursing sweet sin
On a night drenched in rain,
I heard a tap on my door
and let sin
come into my house.
Thin boned and starving,
I dried her with fine linen
and served her warm milk
in my finest china bowl.
She folded herself
in my favorite chair,
the one right next to the fire.
She fell asleep,
pacified.
In the morning,
she cried to be let out.
I watched her from my window
stalk her prey.
She always returns
home
at dusk.
She grew larger and sleek:
no longer the sweet bundle
I nursed.
A jump on the counter
sends fine china flying,
shattering on hard tile floor.
She is eating me out of house
and home.
At night she now sleeps in my
bed.
Her watchful, yellow eyes bind
me to her.
Like a lover,
she kneads my body with large
paws,
lightly claws skin off my back.
In the morning,
I cry to be let out.
Curled up in the window,
she smugly watches me
escape down the street.
Knowing,
I always return
home
to her house
at dusk.
On a night drenched in rain,
I heard a tap on my door
and let sin
come into my house.
Thin boned and starving,
I dried her with fine linen
and served her warm milk
in my finest china bowl.
She folded herself
in my favorite chair,
the one right next to the fire.
She fell asleep,
pacified.
In the morning,
she cried to be let out.
I watched her from my window
stalk her prey.
She always returns
home
at dusk.
She grew larger and sleek:
no longer the sweet bundle
I nursed.
A jump on the counter
sends fine china flying,
shattering on hard tile floor.
She is eating me out of house
and home.
At night she now sleeps in my
bed.
Her watchful, yellow eyes bind
me to her.
Like a lover,
she kneads my body with large
paws,
lightly claws skin off my back.
In the morning,
I cry to be let out.
Curled up in the window,
she smugly watches me
escape down the street.
Knowing,
I always return
home
to her house
at dusk.
to the edge
Last night I dreamt of walking out
onto a frozen lake.
Looking back, I see you, a dark blur.
Stopping, I look down.
My face pressed up against ice,
underneath my feet.
A mirror.
Startled, I awake,
open bedroom windows:
a witness to a landscape,
Frozen.
The only sound marring perfect peace
is my own heart beating, and I want to squeeze
it until it stops, and then I will hear nothing
but sweet
Silence.
I walk outside dressed in my pajamas.
I want to pick up an ice curved leaf.
Hear it crack in my fist.
I want to step on a frozen branch.
Listen to it snap.
I want to wander over to a snow bank.
Lie down.
Face gray sky.
Etch angels with arms and legs.
I trace dream steps to the edge.
You are not here:
I know I am –
over there.
See?
In the middle.
A frozen face suspended.
I gingerly step, barefoot, onto the ice
to go and greet
Her.
Last night I dreamt of walking out
onto a frozen lake.
Looking back, I see you, a dark blur.
Stopping, I look down.
My face pressed up against ice,
underneath my feet.
A mirror.
Startled, I awake,
open bedroom windows:
a witness to a landscape,
Frozen.
The only sound marring perfect peace
is my own heart beating, and I want to squeeze
it until it stops, and then I will hear nothing
but sweet
Silence.
I walk outside dressed in my pajamas.
I want to pick up an ice curved leaf.
Hear it crack in my fist.
I want to step on a frozen branch.
Listen to it snap.
I want to wander over to a snow bank.
Lie down.
Face gray sky.
Etch angels with arms and legs.
I trace dream steps to the edge.
You are not here:
I know I am –
over there.
See?
In the middle.
A frozen face suspended.
I gingerly step, barefoot, onto the ice
to go and greet
Her.
Mania
A merry-go-round spinning
so quickly, it flies off its handles,
crashing into twisted monkey bars.
I, spinning out, watch
as my laughter cracks like plate glass.
A thousand pieces litter the ground.
A jar of brightly colored gumballs wink.
Guess how many?
You win the prize!
Rolling and spilling down
aluminum ramps;
so many marbles,
lost in my head.
A rollercoaster ride- it;s free!
Come on! Get strapped in and
Listen to the clickety-clack,
shaky wooden supports.
Hang suspended.
Drop
Plunge
Zip
Bank.
Look! Its raining frogs and fishes.
And I have no umbrella.
A high wire act and
when I fall,
I fly.
A merry-go-round spinning
so quickly, it flies off its handles,
crashing into twisted monkey bars.
I, spinning out, watch
as my laughter cracks like plate glass.
A thousand pieces litter the ground.
A jar of brightly colored gumballs wink.
Guess how many?
You win the prize!
Rolling and spilling down
aluminum ramps;
so many marbles,
lost in my head.
A rollercoaster ride- it;s free!
Come on! Get strapped in and
Listen to the clickety-clack,
shaky wooden supports.
Hang suspended.
Drop
Plunge
Zip
Bank.
Look! Its raining frogs and fishes.
And I have no umbrella.
A high wire act and
when I fall,
I fly.
 | |  | |  | |  |
 | |  | |  | |  |
