Morning breaks in the red ruddy flames of Dawn’s plumb and blush … sleepless bedlam born have I been with wine stung eyes masked in anticipation … anxious tears wear the dancing crone’s stem in ritual cascades beneath a mighty thundering gather … my skirts are yellow as Rudbeckiah’s petals with cornflower ruffles, polka dotted and gingham in the manner the Phoebe sings … its own joyful soul liquid in trills and moss maiden purposes … It is in his love’s bower my heart keeps spry, wise, and sunrise surprised at what news the blue skink shall bring to window pane … poem and uttered palette knife collage travels through ions on spider web silk succor and chalk painted prayers … beetle dung orb anchored celestial illuminations affixed to his canvas slipping wormhole wobbles with the ancient excrement of all peoples in One skin … this is his Spirit’s time clock and rip cord flying squirrel sun dial, where it’s always the moment of Now … of his most precious choosing … My gladness buds from the rust of city rail and rain gutter drain remains from lord less fools who disdain such beautiful veins … cat whisker chin tickling garden gains thrive where color cast Babbit grains and the granite Adam roams the maze … ever a seeker of a finer faire cause rosy sway … tis noble I say … a cause I sink satin and sword alike in to stay a course worthy of Inanna’s grace … for I love him as soul’s first felt lace in the darkness when reaching towards Light … auric circumference of Luna’s bright shadow … I, ever bitten, brave, and bare throated in happy bondage to love’s priceless surrender.
© 2017 cdd All Rights Reserved
The dit diddy datts of night’s cool rains have only just begun to create their jazzy improvisations … in sky lights streaking shaft hot tongues towards iron and copper Earth golems … afternoon was blessed warm and the Sun met the lake with joyous play … it was the eagles’ first sighting of Floating Fox since the thaw of last winter’s crystal coma … his strength was apparent in both his ability to churn up the muddy bank and in the vibrancy of his colors … he is now larger than any channel cat which dares swim in his school … he is the master of these waters now … they follow where he flows in reverence, not obedience … the black of his koi legacy is far deeper ink than any of their native Mississippi ghost grey skins … he is golden and marigold~orange with fire … and to them, he must be surely be, the samurai fish come from legends told from the boat himself … Blue Ictalurus of the Small Waters … he had witnessed such koi in the ancient spring pond … from here his father’s fathers came… the old waters above the new born lake in which they all swam together now … it was foretold one day an eagle would succeed in stealing Floating Fox from his spawn and spread … to this day not one mighty enough had come to bear a white head so fierce they could pierce the dragon scales of this other worldly warrior … nor were they a match for him in mid air combat when the sharp talons of his whiskers stung them venomously … and the beating of his mighty tail fins sent them into a downward spiraling retreat …
© 2015 Carla Dawn Dunlap All Right Reserved
With shy warmth hidden in the splinters Dawn yawns to a waking thought … the volt spawn circlet their first flight from slumber post and pillar … wings wearing dew Night surrenders in his passing … that she shall ever know he is her only desire … soaked burden bound to roof or crag they cling … they are gullet thrust worshipers of the ancients’ golden orb … antecedent bound by blood and wake … here they wait in silent dance and conversations for her arrival … unfurling their silver brown fans faint for breeze and blessing … as she rises once more above the plains to burn off the foggy morn … less with the bright nub of her candle stick … than with the glow her smile reminds existence … when she laps his dewy gifts once more … and the children rejoice … beating bright winds beneath their wings … until they soar golden in her giving light.
© 2015 Carla Dawn Dunlap All Right Reserved
File:Types de plumes. – Larousse pour tous, -1907-1910-.jpg
From Wikimedia Commons, the free media repository
How will I best be of service in the days to come? … I linger at the ice islands … white~blue upon the growing shadows of the river’s approaching slumber … beneath summer~less limbs perch and prey holds to the day eagles’ glint of razor talons sole security … mesmerized by the warmth the memories of Blue Gill can offer in such sentinel staunch hours … eyes mild for a mere mouse of a morsel to pluck from the bank below … before Bitterness and Night tear away the glory of the sky in their clamor dance … to possess and ravage the sunrise while She still dreams of becoming a Blood Orange pudding fit for Dawn to wear … to the cosmic order we all have been born … in their service they embrace all with purpose, skillful matrix … even to the barbs on their flight feathers … thus in truth I shall be the strength of a constant carrying wind.
© 2014 Carla Dawn Dunlap and S.I.A. All Rights Reserved