#kmakwords

[fatbartleby]

A light turned on casts shadows, bent and still, a paint not held by time, nor held in space, but in the silhouettes that form until our movement proves us separate, yet the same. ------------------------ I've been thinking a lot about nature and culture and i hope you're all doing the same 🤔🌺🤗🐝🙃✨☺️ #poems #kmakwords #pics #iloveyounature #iloveyoupoetry #ilovemyfriends #idontlikemywork #😈 (at Imperial Beach Drive In)

[kmakwords]

Cartharsis

Crackled face,

up and across the Stormfather’s beard,

his light makes soft edges hard

across gleaming metal and short breaths.

Lungs pump to match the beats of arms,

swinging close, hydrophobic,

daring to fight the sky for a chance to see.

Interim antics making tears in my eyes,

Joanna singing sounds

playing coos of birds, to match the beat of hooves

clouding skies since 1908.

(Heavy breathing,

Zen,

Heavy breathing.)

At this rate

I won’t even have time to ask Mnemosyne

for her daughter’s hands in marriage.

[kmakwords]

Making Tea / My Favorite Pillow

And just as the kettle boils, And the night sets it's lonely head To rest on the windowsill, I find myself in a warm place, With a heavy smile, Because if it was light It would be too easy For you to lift my head, From your comfortable lap. Your embrace is all i need, To keep warm, From night's chilled touch.

[kmakwords]

Sonnet 13: A Moment In Your Twilight

If I’m to lose your meanings swirled in grey

on clouds that spiral round your face and lungs,

the words that spill from shaken vocal chords

that mix with mist and hit the ground with thuds

where I’m to pick up pieces to reclaim

and put together thoughts of your export

forgive me if my efforts looks so lame

I’ve my own cloud to see through at this point.

  These clouds, we’ve each our own around our ears

and eyes that make the world seem sometimes grey,

but even clouds in sunsets can be cleared

to show for just for a moment sights betrayed.

  For in that while I could see your face,

and heart, your color’s shining golden rays.

[kmakwords]

Take Only Pictures, Leave Only Tire Marks

Even surrounded,

drowned in noise,

the crackle of dispersing sand

put into place from rubber

can pierce the ears,

beat on drums,

make meditation a happening,

a mandatory condolence

for a pulsing bottom,

and sore legs,

made solid from machina toils,

a day in and days later,

  But not without an intervention

from a wandering spirit,

in a form I’m quite partial to,

asking me for tea

in a town I never thought I’d see.

In a place,

beautiful,

I never thought I’d love.

  I’m glad I can make these wheels

fling dust in the wind,

where it floats with my thoughts

about the lovely sounds,

deep meditations,

and a lovely geist, 

that keep these broken stones aloft. 

[kmakwords]

Sonnet 12: A Green Thumb And A Bed (14-06-11)

In dreams, so gentle is the hand I touch

that lets me see these striking images,

that let me see the curves and tongue and teeth

that form together in this bodies heat.

The cool lines that I trace in sweat and tongue

along the vicious curves, such flowers stem

that isn’t mine to take, but for this time

I’ll make believe that such a verdant plain

inhabits all the space that do you touch,

that blossoms form from gentle fingers on

my palm and skin, this passion’s root nonesuch,

that wrap lovely ‘round heart, tangled in arms.

  In dreams my garden’s soil ‘s yours to keep,

to sow your touch’s seeds of heart, of peace.

[kmakwords]

Wait wait wait,

and please stop for now.

I throw my hands in the air,

or slice the air,

in a fashion

that lets people know

that as my hand molecules

split the wind molecules

they should look this way.

Because it’s not nice

to dive down the hill

away from someone trying to talk to you,

even if you are in a stick shift

on a slope 

with the breaks off. 

You should have parked better. 

[kmakwords]

Caught On The Wind, Stuck To The Skin

My brain, my feet, won’t you carry me away,

this time to where a certain thought won’t find me,

this time to where I can’t be bothered

by the cotton fluff in the wind,

or the words making their way,

riding each little dandelion seed

till my eyes are covered,

caked in this vegetable mass.

My hands just can’t seem

to scrape them away

as fast as they build up on my skin.

They take root and blossoming again

from each pore,

bathing in each drop of sweat

with roots running too deep

to easily dig towards.

I just can’t seem to pull out enough of them

before they spread even more fluff

in this dense wind.

  And I’m sorry if they cloud your vision too.