A Grand Illusion

everything is a grand illusion:
the sunset, clouds,
the night’s long-dead stars,

the way you smiled at me.

how the trees touch the sky
and my breathing
— in, out, in, out.

metronomic existence
timed to expire
when the game is done.

trick of the eye, this life…
like your love
bad roll of the dice
random happenstance
slick hands you had
and
words as concrete
as the tide,

that always detracts more than adds
when it pulls away,
subsides.

leaving worn rocks…
deceptive in their strength
erodible in time, like

the strongest hearts.

if we close our eyes,
does nothing exist?

when we open them
what
can we trust?

~ Emily C.

8.14.17

Crisp

I had forgotten how the rain sounds

when it falls on leaves, stiffened

in windless weeks, smoked

to a crisp. Portentous orangeness

clung like viscous ghost, hanging

‘round horizon; in heavy robe, haunting

us. Goading us. With every growing sun

light darkened in a lifeless sky. We

breathed in short breaths, lungs coated

with grime. Time slowed, each second

choked. No where to hide, we froze.

And burned.

Waiting…

It broke. And blue view spoke,

‘tween clouds pockmarking heavens

we forgot existed. Oasis of air,

freed by westerlies — onshore breeze,

blew life into our lungs

once again. Wet. Clean. Free.

 

~ Emily C.

 

8.13.17

Another Red Sun

another red sun
another night sky
another day gone by

without you

another gasp for clean air
another grasp for you here
another pass at a chance

with you

another tomorrow became today
another scream inside my head
another mistake made

beside you

another wish dies on wind
another kiss left hanging
another you left me

bleeding heavy

another us never happens
another we is in the past
another time sought fleeing

memories

 

~ Emily C.

8.6.17

Instincts

I felt you rising against me

breath rapid fire at bare turned neck

heat of blue expectations, its signature

written in beads of sweat

Animals we may be

(and certainly we have been)

instincts born in darkened room

windows blooming steam

Forgoing moral policies

we tear the rule book up

those finger-pointing hypocrites

wag their dirty digits at us

We can show them what they’re missing

but they already know

we’ve heard them loud and clear

through churches’ versed paper walls

Lure me toward the underworld

bring on your hedonistic sin

soak in sweet sublimity

my feral pagan skin

 

~ Emily C.

8.6.17

 

**

Not an attack on religion. I just follow the words where they go.  It’s more of a hypocrisy thing. Not a fan of hypocrisy. 🙂

Free Me ~ Haiku


 

Choking hazy smoke

Another red sun looming

Free me on sailed sea

 

~ Emily C.

7.6.17

 

***

Day 6:  Smoke is still here. I can smell it in the house when I opened the bedroom door this morning to the hall where it’s an obvious contrast. But, then sitting in the house, one acclimates to it.

I have been running HEPA air purifiers with brand new filters round the clock, and have only opened the doors briefly in morning or night to let the cool air in for a bit. And even THAT has been enough to make it smell smokey in here. Check out my filter picture, the one on the left was new on Thursday. The one on the right is unused. Look at all that dirt caught in only 3 days. Crazy! Glad its in there and not my lungs, but I do feel it a bit anyway.

The first two pics are from Sigma Shreedharan again. Yucky air makes for great art!

The third pic is mine off my back deck at sunset. We are still dealing with heat, but it’s only in the high 80s instead of high 90s now. After the 4 feet of rain we had this winter, I didn’t think I’d be desperate for a raincloud, but here we are. 🙂

Side note: my Mac’s trackpad has been causing issues and making my cursor go berserk in a scary way. So, I haven’t been able to use it and all my poetry bookmarks are on that one. I will be delayed even more in catching up on your awesome words. But, in time will be trying my best to catch up.

Also back to my vestibular therapist tomorrow. Still working my way through that, but definitely not as acute as I was. The new exercises have been a challenge for my brain on top of the environmental triggers lately with the heat and smoke. Looking forward to clean air and improved health.

Miss you all and thank you for your steadfast support.

 

In These Dreams

I dreamed of the words
I’d never speak

tucked in blankets of apathy
turning in throes
wild and free, wild and me

under stars I painted in my own sky

a black canvas
only meant for light

old night
brought new consciousness

rattled into being it spoke
from a beyond I could not reach

could not hear, would not see
will never know
but here, but now

in these dreams

 

~ Emily C.

7.29.17