A POEM A DAY

I'm just happy to be here.

Tag: sky

22/30: – WHAT THIS EARTH HAS TO OFFER

For my wife, Adela, on Earth Day

On our honeymoon, no matter where we stood,
we stopped to watch the sun crawl back
into the other side of tomorrow.
The migration of light crossed all living things
like a promise for what was to come.
Our love made us a witness
to what this Earth has to offer.

We are in Marfa, Texas,
it is a Texas December
and the cold air carries
itself into our breath
and out with each word.
I watch your neck crane
like a telescope
your eyes marvel
your voice traveled
upwards to the only sky
I’ve ever seen with
enough light to turn
the dark wild desert
into a matrimony of star fire.

In Golden Colorado,
We drive up to Lookout Mountain Road
to witness the Great Conjunction
Where Jupiter and Saturn blur into one
An earthly phenomenon that won’t happen again
for another 80 years
A million miles away,
Two planets align
into a holy reminder
of what happens
when the Universe
makes a promise
and keeps it.

On the outskirts of Alamogordo, New Mexico
White Sands National Park orbits like
another planet
Walking across the sand dunes,
we stomp and stare into an
endless white sea
The mountains surround us
as does the light
A distant wind wanders
across the sand like
a spirit.
The spirit blesses us
with the different colors of the sky
I think of the ground as a canvas
untouched and boundless
When the sun dips behind a strange horizon
I set my eyes on what’s left behind
The purple-pink-blue hues
go outside the lines of time
like spilled paint. When the light
hits your face, I am blessed by
the gravity of our love,
how it tethers us here
to this world
to this Earth.


13/30: THERE IS A VULTURE WHO SLEEPS IN THE SAME TREES AS MY MEMORIES

I didn’t see the body on the ground, only the vulture’s mouth.
Isn’t it miraculous, that the smell of blood is a dinner bell for
some birds in the sky?

Anywhere can become a grave
even the morning asphalt
still wet with dew with, still swallowing pollen
like dirt over the casket.

I awoke to find a wake
I awoke to ask myself,
Does the vulture ever
celebrate the life
that did not last?
None of this is by mistake,
by happen stance, by chance.

A thousand things die inside me every-day
A cell survives and thrives, only to say goodbye.
A memory is dead, then comes back to life.
Hair leaves. Skin regenerates. A thought grows
into a sentence and the sentence goes back
into the soil. Like oil in the dirt, I resurrect each
of my feelings like fossil fuel. With so much life
and death, I become breathless in my own body.

There is a vulture who sleeps in the same
trees as my memories,
There is a vulture who lives
in the sky of my mind
I do not know its name
Only its appetite
I think of my thoughts
as inconvenient prey
decaying on the side of the road
with flesh still on the bone
How do I grieve
what I want to leave
without becoming
an elegy?
There is a vulture waiting to descend
Ready to pick up the pieces
I leave behind on the endless
highways of my mind
But this time,
I drive past the past
I celebrate the still-living
I forgive what I cannot fix
I pray for another sky
I bury the scraps
I say a prayer, and
I do not die.