shed skins (20160807)

the eucalyptus has shed
its bark
now a smooth white
shushing like sandpaper
under my palm

it stretches fifty feet or more
and twists as it grows
a split the width of my finger
the length of my forearm
rises up the trunk

how simple it seems
to grow this way
add a ring
lose some skin
start over each year
praying for rain
and easy winds

Poem 20160321

extruded from my own life
like a play doh snake
i await my new skin
with trepidation

will it be scales this time
or flames
or just ashes

transformation is
always like childbirth
only you’re forcing yourself
out of your own birth canal
–if you have one–
and you’re never really sure
what’s coming
until it’s out

Poem 20160304

the water is so heavy that i could skip
across the surface like a stone
i could bounce one-two-three
if i were lighter

but the water can’t bear my weight
any more than the earth could
so my lungs fill with thick
warm sweet salty water
i must be drowning
in amniotic fluid
so close to

but the fire burning through
my marrow through my bones
makes cinders in my blood
the fire wants cleansing
to cast off the cycle
of birth and rebirth

burning and drowning
at the same time
i close my eyes
i think of you
i open my eyes
i think of you