Rivertrance

Fire-Fly! _____________ Fire-fly flash the falling dark a summer evening translucent  leaves veins of life, backdrops to sunset. The wind's rustle a hymn of ecstasy flowing through the growing of summer. Evening dew a vivacious  promise soothing velvet flowers, blinding hues for the dawn Dormant slumber, chilling rain: Dawn calls to fall's retreat, silent beauty going to ground to live again

Gwen ________________________________ Drunken paradigms The striving joy myths fallen from broken eyes      streaming rivers tearfallen rock-cleaved grief Crying Pharaoh's, empty tombs Grit-edged sand, sorrow of eternity Fallen, the lost finesse Our understanding of you now an unwritten poem Our words a vacant Eulogy                            for Gwen MacEwen

Alcohol ____________________________ The potential for terror is rampant the lies pervasive the spell which conjures words and kills; Dylan and Gwen knew this The hatred the smoothness the lies the deceit the fear the warmth the comfort the escape the childlike cries the holes in shoes the words surfacing the life-soul dying the wanting the seduction the grasping cascading images the pain the fear the terror the final escape

Lisa ___________________________ Submerged blind visions, stone flowing cuts hard mists pleading crying for deep emotion Open waters, crested and rolling . . . Endless light; sun motes releasing the harbinger; proffering love? reaper of hate; all deep feeling, all deep needing, all deep mystery Crested vast heavens, velvet waves of joy; Star motes, the skys' silken pavane Courtly scions, witnesses of existence witnesses of truth, witness to reproach Early jackdaw morning, something stolen, a poisoned wound bleeds, a silent corner, never touched before, a miraculous agony craves resolution, release Rising, a killing absence

Razor ______________________ Look in the mirror Your mouth is alive Your lower lip shaped like a heart Your upper...  straight, like a razor blade Yes, it is a metaphor,   You can love or kill      with a single movement You have many colors; Iridescent: Blues, green, gray, copper, auburns. Your soul is is a river; your aura is           peaceful. I could easily drown.

Elegy... For the old man on the beach _______________________________ Oh and when it was that The sand was bare and The touch was real and the Girls, the very young girls Their guile was innocent Their promise unknowing And kissed with miracles And then how it was when it Ebbed and flowed, the growing Waves of life, emotion growing rich From the vastness of longing, Needing, finding, stumbling to Encounter all not perfection in Hopeful fortuity, deflect or encounter, Pain inevitable, erstwhile, in Anticipation of joy And oh how it is now that The stones have washed around To a different arrangement In the sand that the gi

In Georgia, there is only half-winter, sometime-winter. Half the trees are bare, naked, Cold and dying and still as death. Others sway and pulse with life beside them, Glossy green leaves rustling in the wind, Bending back and forth in blushing failed attempts At covering their kins’ and lovers’ weaknesses, Their deterioration, their stark exhibition Of thin limbs and insufficient trunks. But one cannot be twice as strong, (Once for itself and once for another) Or twice as green, twice as full and flowered, Twice as alive. Already the weak ones are depleted, Vulnerable to the kudzu That clings parasitically to slowly

I can feel your presence tearing away from me with every hour that passes since we parted. There isn't much left inside this chest of mine except memories of what we were. Those sweet moments, fast asleep with you inside my room. Staying in your arms, with you gentle as always. I can still feel my heart speeding up and slowing down when ever you came around. I can still remember the passion behind each meeting of our lips. How you were oh-so gentle with me, and yet it had the intensity of one thousand flames. I don't know how you came upon deciding our fate. I don't know why you wanted us to end so aburptly. You were the one I

"Here comes the frost," She sighs, drinking up time-- Infinite and fluid as tears-- Anxious, cold, and waiting For a gust from the north To dry her heart, carry it away in its piercing cloak. Her dark hair, a draping silken cloak, Cascades to her waist, and the frost In her eyes flickers by the light of a north- Bound moon (the messenger of Time) As hours, brimming with waiting, Pass slowly, soaked in tears. She wipes the glaze of tears From her cheek, gathering the sheets about her like a cloak Around her silver shoulders, waiting For the thunder of gallops to melt the frost- Bitten silence reflected in the ticking of time--

She comes to me where it is always night— A black form, flowing black cape; And like the moon, her face is white, A deadly blossom from the black scape. Her whisper I hear, soft but austere. Her lips blow boreal breaths of dreams, Dark torrents, cataclysmic illusions, A web of inky, sugary themes Building an empire, forcing extrusions That harden like ice behind my eyes. She tips the hourglass to begin (With glassy ice knives and mirrors as weapons) The descent of fallacy from within And as each silver sliver cut deepens, I begin to see the masterpiece. Then, with a smile, she fades away, Her work done, leaving me solitary; H