LEASHES

Bringing self to heel

binding the soul to flesh it fled many years ago,

I cling to the surface

where water tension only bears so much

before I sink, one, two, three

my hand breaks free, grasping air

it cannot hold.

I release this gasping grasp

to wave at the sky I so loved instead.

I sink, not so much as stone,

but as an inchoate wish

made equal of sun & stars.

How did I come so far from shore?

I, who dwelt in deserts

seduced by moisture clean of sand.

I clung so long to life that life itself forgot me.

The letter never mailed

Connections void of course.

I will not surrender here to force, to gravity

grown gravid with my weight.

I will kick hard & hold my tongue

till breath is no more an option than flight

but still I will not yield!

Instead I’ll yearn for waves to freshen

for beaches to crawl out upon

clutching only the heart I dove in for.

NO STAMPS

I left the love letter unsent

Writing instead to the editor

on trivial, thoughtless things

unworried about a return address.

I wrote love’s sealed secrets

for none to see, for all to share…

I’m out of stamps, regardless

Paper on a desk

not even made into a list:

pickles, catfood, tea

All blank

A cause with not a reason

A room of stars alone with no doors.

I am concupiscent with endings

this woman of long beginnings

of arrogant centers

of faded memoir.

In the somewhere of time is the sometime of where

I am a Beloved, an Abba

with a family name I cannot pronounce.

GOD

He never signed the Permission Slip

but watched me walk to the edge of heaven

To dive headlong into its elusive counterpart

it’s illusive counterpoint.

I did not know I could not fly in return!

Nor the gate would close behind me with a click

Breaking my heart.

Why didn’t I await the paperwork?

Stretching the red tape of reincarnation

unable to set my mind:

A giraffe or a girl?

I took my chances, ignoring every sign

about standing near the edge

until, seduced into falling,

here I am, eyeing mountains

Thinking climbing up is climbing back.

Blear-eyed & trembling,

Aged of thirst & heartbreak,

Take me to home I so burned to leave –

Screaming all the way down.

IF LIFE MIRRORS DIVINITY

I’ll take the one with the biggest crack

the silvering resinous & stained,

no true reflection to be had

Tho I polish it with my soul.

Working the salt mines of desire

Ten inches a year’s yield

I watch these flicker away

Leaves fed to fire

I fight the smoke

I bring the rain

I search for stones to pound it through

And when it breaks – as mirrors always do –

I heave up over the edges

Bleeding out the names of God.

STIFF WITH SORROW

The words seep out, blue on white

mounting speed, outstripping sad

I scratch ink across the page

I need answers to the questions no one asks!

I left a rock atop my wings

and walked into the sea.

MOVE ALONG, SIRRAH!

I am no longer “pretty”

but old & bold, I have learned patience.

It’s not final, nor the answer

when life comes rooting in my dumpster

where I’m looking for my heart…a hand to hold.

I poured out love in roaring measures,

I pressed out pain & rubbed out ruin

Offering strangers that which calls for coin

but buys no stock in who I have become.

No matter. Were the choice to round my way again,

I would choose the carousel with all-white horses

Carpisoned in gold…not gathering the reins

Nor stroking flame-red nostrils.

I’d lay down my face on a fiberglass mane

To ride the stars.

 A small flotilla of poems for the aquatically challenged. 

THE LOCAL LOCALS

why new jersey girls go barefoot:       sand

why new mexico girls do not:              cactus

———————————————————–

mother gaia knows me – she could pick up my scent anywhere I’ve been.

and any-when.

i don’t try to be untrackable, it’s just i prefer to be untraceable.

more random wisdom for a random age.

teach your self-talk out loud.

be sure to hear it with both ears as it is meant to be heard

bloody as a fairytale

unbecoming as days in front of a mirror

            marking change

being strong

instead of beautiful.

LITTLE GIRLS & QUEENS

i don’t remember wanting to be a princess.

i knew from an early age i am only  a queen.

queens don’t get  a day off,

not if they’re doing the job right.

queens don’t give into presumption

they own that!

all it takes to be one is a remarkable memory

with a good education.

queens are an acquired taste, but there it is, nonetheless.

queens disdain working for others

but often despair of working for themselves.

they never should go into any family business.

we always observe the “no queens permitted” signs.

queens are often found along the stairways of their own palaces,

midway up or midway down.

wrapped in a cloak, they often face the wind

blowing away the secrets offered

queens are oracles of change

for better or worse in the kingdom.

queens surmount the barriers

then return to show the way.

WHERE LIGHT IS AN ELEMENT

new mexico is a land shaped by wind

telling long stories over sage & chaparral

we keep thinking an ending may occur

a solution to be had just over the next

endless horizon, if we pay attention.

really, there’s only mystery

the wind blows upward

seeding clouds with sand

there’s a blue beyond the color

we know as blue

this sky. this air. this wind.

we harvest what we plant

we walk in the gardens seeded by our own mouths

seasoned by our own water

willed into more than survival.

A PLANETARY MORNING

the light’s a little tilted

the spectra of other realms

we have a view now

above & below

like underwater cameras, dipping.

we are no longer individuals

as we clamor & bang our pots

to get the attention of God

(who’s been keeping up all along,

indeed, reflecting back to light our way.)

TRIANGULATION

the three blind mice

squared off & began

quartering the space

profligate thoughts

tossed back & forth

among the three

to this day,

i have no idea

if they ever got out.

THE WORLD

this world is full of consonants

the softening of vowels

lost in a well of expletives:

karate chop words

what happens in a world full of curses?

it is becalmed: the steady balance

of beauty, divinity, sacred pushback lost

until the “cursors” re-ignite with love

enough to tilt us home

nature bites back, burying curses into nullity

achieving blessing.

_{carol borsello MARCH 2021}