yes, we can talk…

Having loved enough and lost enough,
I am no longer searching,
just opening.

No longer trying to make sense of pain,
but trying to be a soft and sturdy home
in which real things can land.

These are the irritations that rub into a pearl

So we can talk awhile
but then we must listen,
the way rocks listen to the sea

And we can churn at all that goes wrong
but then we must lay all distractions down,
and water every living seed.

And yes, on nights like tonight
I too feel alone. But seldom do I
face it squarely enough
to see that it is a door
into the endless breath
that has no breather
into the surf that human shells
call god.

– Mark Nepo –

post nubila, sol…

elysian limbs
splay across cotton weave
seed-soiled sheets till
love-ruined fields
with each sun setting

dusky slow
a new beginning
steams
clinks
percolates beyond the frame
coaxing shadow out from under
dawn’s beaten brow

tangled looks between
dream-pale eyes
scour reservoirs
of dim remembering
looking for a sign
waiting for something
heaving forth the squee

darling, turn away

this touch
and thus touching
leads back
to then
when
before Lot looked back

crows fly west
only to murder what is left of light

– Lola Moi –