Fence, Abiquiu 2014

Copyright 2015 Charles David Miller All rights reserved 

Morada, Abiquiu 2014

Copyright 2015 Charles David Miller All rights reserved 

Borders

Plane trees and hydrangeas

shade vixens beneath a nubile

moon. Their cackle torments

the dreaming dog.

I fish frogs from the pool water. 

Hawk shadow imprints the surface,

talon awaiting feast as the world sleeps.

If only I were a tree I'd know how to rest alone, 

or a stone enduring what it is to be.

Or fog so I learn how to dream.

    in outposts on the border

    where habits and codes unravel,

    earth's dark faith seeks light,

    shadow and salvation

Trees know no time,

They can stand alone.

Spring leaves grow in old bark, 

writing untold stories.

Seeding and reaping,

the day traces my shadow like 

raindrops in night's dry mouth.

This world marks me

with blood and dust,

putting grit in my teeth

to grind, teaching its harsh

lesson of survival.

    find your way in ice and snow,

    doubt, distrust, and heart's deceit

    in pilgrimage to unknown worlds 

    from outposts at the border

Sweeping urge

to clean up dust at the door -

bring me to the crypt,

cauterize my wound

with a life to erect,

or remains to discard.

    I want to be born

    in new worlds

    and burn from my brain

    the faces of lie

    and despair in this one.

Copyright 2015 Charles David Miller All rights reserved

<neighbor>

<neighbor>

 <dusk>

  the heat of the day

  cuts its dry, cracked

  teeth into the cool

  wind from desert sage

  and mountain firs

  <silence>

   I watch you watching me

   there behind the gate

   where you park your RV

   <emptiness>

    is it suspicion bred

    by moonless night?

    resentment coiled

    like a rattler

    around lavic stone?

    or is it just the end of years

    creeping into joints

    and jaw, setting them aflame

    with terror and awe?

    <commandment>

     love your neighbor

     as you love yourself

     <ר֫וּחַ>

      the body and spirit

      sleep soon enough

      the blood flows

      too much where

      it will never rain

     </ר֫וּחַ>

    </commandment>

   </emptiness>

  </silence>

 </dusk>

</neighbor>

Copyright 2015 Charles David Miller All rights reserved

<dishes>

<dishes>

 celebrate

 the stain of things past,

 the reward of the hunt,

 the work of the hands,

 the purity of tears

</dishes>

Copyright 2015 Charles David Miller All rights reserved 

<love>

<love>

 laugh and cry

 with the demons

 <door>

  nothing's sacred

  but prayers

  coming home

 </door>

 <\unconditional>

</love>

Copyright 2015 Charles David Miller All rights reserved 

<animal>

Image: Robert Rauschenberg, Tree of Life Prune

<animal>

 me

 <twigs>

  i snap segments with my nails

  on the walk from the train -

  a primal grammar

  <\patience>

 </twigs>

</animal>

Copyright 2015 Charles David Miller All rights reserved 

<sticks>

<sticks>

 picking up

 <waterfall>

  washing wounds

  in a hotel room

  <\canyon>

 </waterfall>

</sticks>

Copyright 2015 Charles David Miller All rights

Reserved 

<commute>

<commute>

 bluebells dancing in the rain

 <old songs>

  magic circle of rhyme -

  mute lives, blind words

 </old songs>

</commute>

Copyright 2015 Charles David Miller All rights reserved.

<hummingbird>

<hummingbird>

 outside my window

 <nectar>

  what word from the dead?

 </nectar>

</hummingbird>

Poem and image: Copyright 2015 Charles David Miller All rights reserved.

<baby>

<baby>

 breathing hard in sleep

 <stars>

  what makes him

  fight to see dawn?

 </stars>

</baby>

Copyright 2015 Charles David Miller All rights reserved.

<sun>

<sun>

 soul mate

 <earth>

  soft fingers

  rain pours down

  <\seeds>

 </earth>

</sun>

Copyright 2015 Charles David Miller All rights reserved.