©2021 Michael Raven

loam i am moss
hair tangled we
through the bog see
the lights
               the lights
flashing the night
calling to light
we are rushes me
we are flashes seen
triple freed; taut
body electric sings

march violets/

©2021 Michael Raven

i dreamt of march violets and
the scent of sandalwood
fingers tangled in hair and
drinking spiced mead
her wine-sweet kiss stung
electric and alive
while the radio played
old breaking heart songs
the sun

next level/

©2021 Michael Raven

steel girders
not toothpicks
required to hold
these eyes

steely gaze
has a whole
new meaning
in this context

Home maintenance with gutters, ladders and tigers — oh my! Extensive yardwork (first non-scorcher in over a week on a yard a week overdue). Assembling prefab swing set for twins solo (probably easier with two hearty souls).

Result: Rediscovery of muscles I thought I had lost. Plus arthritis and lingering soft tissue damage from historic automotive accidents. E.g., unable to find anything that resembled a comfortable position to sleep in.

Toss in someone throwing a party nearby. The kind that make you nervy because there have been yelling and screaming matches of the domestic variety at the same house (call me paranoid, but I’m waiting for gunfire to erupt during one of their arguments when someone comes to pick up a kid, and a party might be just the excuse to unload a few rounds into someone; my bedroom faces their general direction).

So, the toothpicks used to prop open these tired eyes keep snapping like so much kindling and I am considering hitting a big-box store for something more durable to prop the lids open.

I’ll probably take a nap. At least I don’t have to pick up the kids today — they can entertain themselves playing hop on pop while he snores.


©2021 Michael Raven

killing time
on the blood tide
the water is wine
the wine is blood
feasting on friends
with the waves
turning churning
riptide red
under a scarlet moon
her voice across
the water