Blinking Light

Blinking Light

Do not be alarmed as we approach some turbulence --
The stewardess, as she handed me the pillow, smiled.
I placed it behind all of your dreams, hearing a sigh.

My own [dreams] kept looking at you, as you slept on.
The shaking did not waken you. Neither the sudden
crying of a child. The past few days have been hectic.

Beyond, the beacon of the wingtip flashed against
the dark. Hair of your nodding head mingled in the sky.
And I wondered what this must look like from below.

Someone in a yacht, sipping chablis, hearing a rumble
looks up and sees a light. Knowing nothing about a
marriage on a sandy beach, a noon from this moment.

-- common with nighttime approaches to Montego Bay.

-- © Ciprianowords, Inc. 2011 --

Feels Like Home

Feels Like Home
[For T & H]

Friends come in when everything is out.
When significant days of the year aren't
all they should be, someone in your life
knows what to do.

And if they are true, if it's real, they realize
that the important word is not know.
It is do.
I'm trying now to think of the right phrase.

A gift I can return to them.
Something that summarizes a book of
undeserved goodness. And the perfect
thing has just come to me --

-- © Ciprianowords, Inc. 2011 --

Christmas, Eve

Christmas, Eve

Legend has it that evolution is less than a theory
or even a myth. But that begs the question --
What does legend mean?

No people on the Earth, and then one of them
listen to a snake talk. Later, she will blame Adam
for her decision.

So the story says. As coincidence would have it
only one of us bear the name of these characters.
You.

And it's Christmas, Eve. Would it be too much
for me to ask you [the kids are sleeping]
to think of me, as that apple?

-- © Ciprianowords, Inc. 2011 --

Open Concept

 
Open Concept

Life. It succeeds at every attempt to throw
itself at yourself. I remember now, initially
advocating that modicum of privacy.
A keeping of one's things to one's self, with
minimal reference to architectural theory.
You finally nodded to those partitions
the many hard walls I suggested best.
Forbidden grounds, protecting better ideas.

How I wish I was silent, that you had spoken
sooner. And I wish I had listened, earlier.
Along with the regret of thinking my secrets
the greater of us both, head in hands, I
need you now. I chased you away, revelation
leveling me. -- Come back, flawed woman.
The house of me cannot stand without you
holding the walls of my own unspoken past.

-- © Ciprianowords, Inc. 2011 --

Terrarium

Terrarium

As my father set the thing up I watched,
heart set on a bike, a Mizuno catcher's mitt.
Confusion trebled with the dumping of ants.

This will teach you about industry, production.
And it did, it did that. Day after day, tunneling
against the sides, they carried. Endless lifting.

A frantic community intent on thriving thrived
under my gaze. But I hated the invisibility of
needless desire. The lack of leisure -- love.

-- © Ciprianowords, Inc. 2011 --

My Skin

My Skin

Today is my 48th birthday. So I rubbed my face
where the beard is, there, salted with grey.
My hands are so soft. Five decades
nigh on, everything is smooth. Supple, even.

I conjure a pair of leather gloves that would feel
as smooth against this face, this skin. Worn
to a frazzle -- in tatters, discarded long ago,
they would have not endured this examination.

But today my own hands feel the face that kissed
the cat of my childhood. The nose that breathed
the air of my beginnings. The lips that mouthed
the first words of my life. The eyes that saw it all.

-- © Ciprianowords, Inc. 2011 --

Sharks

Sharks

They do what they do.
If you fling a ballast of blood and meat
they will circle, breaching the surface
in a pursuit of existence.

But I threw nothing out that I know of.
And yet you surrounded me, grinning
like a shark would -- feasting on
what Darwin himself would never

attribute to a survival of the fittest.

-- © Ciprianowords, Inc. 2011 --

Mirage After Mirage

Mirage After Mirage

A sly joy in not owning anything, we drove on.
A sudden thrill in our unknowing, we listened.
Generations of guilt washed away -- sailing
toward mirage after mirage in that rented car.

Your hair a pennant whipped out the window
destination undestined. Thinking ourselves on
the Vermont Trail we landed in New Hampshire
-- not even a shrug of mistake between us.

Checking in, we owned a town unknown to us.
Ate Chinese food uneaten in China. I gave you
your nickname. Mira. Short for mirage. Dreams
shivering on a highway ahead of us, in the sun.

©Ciprianowords, Inc. 2011

Reckless

Reckless

We were on that ferris wheel, suspended
death begging for insanity to outweigh reason
and you all ears, unfastening the safety bar.

We were on that ferry. You leaned so far over
I had to reel you in like a squirming dolphin
tasting my own heart, my saliva like a rope.

Jesus Christ, woman. On the dance floor.
Climbing on the stage as I flailed alone --
you played that guy's bongos like Sheila E.

We were at the casino. I hid in my hands
when you told that high-flyer he could not
sustain the next roll of the "god-damn" dice.

Later, as we sat at the bar with him, and you
continued in your counsel -- it was just then I
realized you are my best shot at living a life

that is wreckless.

-- © Ciprianowords, Inc. 2011 --

First Snowfall

First Snowfall

As tardy as I can recall, this year held back.
We sat at a picnic table far beyond the season
smoking, talking. Not talking - and a grey sky.

A white piece of it fell on my black sleeve.
Here in mid-November, I thought of Halloweens
when I brushed it, scads from from my shoulder.

I watched this lone flake die against my heat
just as you said, Did you see that? The corners
dissolving, fading slowly but all at once?

Four words formed in my mind and came out.
I thought I was the only one witnessing that
first snowfall. Your answer has melted me, since.

-- © Ciprianowords, Inc. 2011 --

Without Name

Without Name

Another rivulet ran down my back, thrashing
as I did at the brush, branches and leaves
falling to the side in a haphazard pile. I will
build my home in this perfect overgrown spot.

Tonight a bonfire of what should not be here
will light up -- Tripping headlong hand on shin
and axe in the grass I then saw the foundation.
Wincing, sitting upright, encased by four walls.

Within a house that once was, and is now not
I sat, not the first to desire this view of the lake.
What of that family, what century-dead dreams
still linger among these thistles and brambles?

Rising to continue, I pictured this added task.
I must smash up this old cement -- When my
great-great grandmother called her husband in
to dinner, what word, what name did she utter?

-- © Ciprianowords, Inc. 2011 --

Whiteness

Whiteness

Please, not just yet.
A sweet fragrance
in all that touches you is
unfinished.
Wait with me as I wait.
Bring your hair to me.
Your shoulders wrapped --

You fall and breathe me in.
We do not speak words.
-- in that dress tonight
yield to whiteness beneath.

The privilege, darling
of unsinned sin
is about to commit itself.

-- © Ciprianowords, Inc. 2011 --

Two Sheets

 
Two Sheets

Two sheets flapping in the wind.
Some things in life will outlive you.
Life, sheets, and wind.

When you no longer can, they will.
Live -- life -- alive.

-- © Ciprianowords, Inc. 2011 --

The Next Slow One

The Next Slow One

It was hellish to wait watching you dance with others,
while lovely.
Agonizing to envision future cowardice on my part.
The time would come.

A tree grew taller in the interim. Forests were born
and died, turning to coal.
Countries were toured, sunny beaches lain upon
before [miracle] --

the band, slowing as my heart raced in apposite time
obliged my resolve.
Your smile an echo of the first notes in that song --
you gave me your hand.

-- © Ciprianowords, Inc. 2011 --

My Foot In It

My Foot In It

I like concrete. Trees?
Terrific! If they were better
skyscrapers would be wooden.

We need it, and so much of it.
I kissed a wall once -- only
because it was so concrete.

Abstract art? I prefer reality.
Bridges falling down? I would
rather they stand. Endure.

I will die in a few years, decades
at best. But when I was a kid
they made a sidewalk and I put

-- © Ciprianowords, Inc. 2011 --

Etre

Etre

I saw a deer being hit by a car.
Language is funny. Human being. Being in love.
Being. To be. Etre. Verbalizing existence itself
even if we have to mention being dead.

What interests me most is being in love.
Being is the most important word of the three.
When it leaves, the others deny ever being there.
But oh, when it stays --

I think that the being part is like saying
I saw a deer being hit by a car.
A cat, being cat-like, walked across a parking lot.
-- someone wants to hear more of the story.

-- © Ciprianowords, Inc. 2011 --

Weeds

Weeds

Growing just where I struggle, they thrive,
taking some of the water intended for me.

One day I will be a tomato, and damn it,
this ____ is drawing from me something I want.
I curse the wind, Mother Nature, and even God.
Must I befriend meanwhile, this vagrant?
Usurper of my moisture, squatter of my ground.

I longed for cleaner landings, says the weed.
Why must I share my thirst with a peasant?
Common vegetable. Good for nothing but the
table of a beast.

-- © Ciprianowords, Inc. 2011 --

Traffic Lights

Traffic Lights

We hear that death and taxes are the constant.
The two things that are sure.
But I say traffic lights.

Red, orange and green are on duty.
Stop, wait, or go on through.
At any intersection, these are the options.

To disobey them is a freedom, yes.
But like life's own signals, to do so regularly,
is to learn they knew best.

-- © Ciprianowords, Inc. 2011 --

One Star

One Star

On the balcony just now, two clouds
like parentheses around a star saw me
seeing them. And it struck me.

We use the word asterisk to refer to
something beyond the text. Some
greater explanation needed.

Indeed. This twinkly light.
How silly we are to think that an added
e, i, s, and k, could help us see further.

-- © Ciprianowords, Inc. 2011 --

Monsters On The Island

Monsters On The Island

Coconuts and those red fruits we love.
Sun. Sand in the toes, waves washing
golden blue as birds we can pet sing.

Night fires. Watching stories swirl up
as we speak them -- flame blurring
you to me, me to you -- into existence.

Rain cannot spoil this, nor storm bring
a longing for rescue. Four winds tear
us limb from limb, our spirits joined, go.

But there is a fierce terror of the mind.
Dream of what once was. Healed only by
your hand in my hair, and the whisper

Those are memories. Only memories.

-- © Ciprianowords, Inc. 2011 --

Please

Please

It's not at all the rain, no. Nor the wind.
All things considered we both know
we've been summer to each other. But
autumn's turning.

I just need your next words to be a sweater.
Your embrace, a blanket over me.
Just need your eyes to have a fire that warms
without burning.

-- © Ciprianowords, Inc. 2011 --

The Second Thing

The Second Thing

Some will tell you it's where you've been.
Others, where you're going.

What to believe? I suggest
living a bit beyond your first impression.

Smiling with me as we together realize
it's mostly --

© Ciprianowords, Inc. 2011

Meteorshower

Meteorshower

You said There's one, pointing, and as I turned
I saw one that you missed as you looked at me

Our lips touched, and we forgot why we're alive.

They say that when you wish on one, you get it.
You get what it is you wish for. But I had no time

to wish for anything. I was too busy seeing, on
the inside of my eyelids, something greater than

stars, falling or otherwise.
Our lips touched, and we forgot why we're alive.

-- © Ciprianowords, Inc. 2011 --

Welcome To Her World

Welcome To Her World

Every astronaut should quiver.
Entering a spaceship, you have every right to ask:

- Will I need an alternate oxygen source?
- When will I be back?
- Are the locals reasonable?
- Have others made this voyage and lived?
-………how many?

- The raised eyebrow. What does it mean?

Every astronaut should quiver.
Entering a spaceship, you have every right to ask.

-- © Ciprianowords, Inc. 2011 --

The End

The End

It was the walking away.

The footsteps of it all, the sound
heels on floor, steps, street, clouds.

A sorry kiss on your knees, ankles
toes. Soul. I realized.

North and south can meet again.
East and west -- never.

It was the walking away.
The setting sun.

-- © Ciprianowords, Inc. 2011 --

Perfect People

Perfect People

Spent a night in a forest
looking for a flawless tree.

Somewhere around three a.m.
I wondered about criteria.

Height? Girth? Bark texture? Leaves?
Root dispersion? Affinity to others?

Does this tree provide a natural habitat for animals or at least timber for homes for animals that pay taxes?

I got weary, and fast.
Leaned against one that made me sleep.

My last thought? The next time I do this
I'll set out in the daytime.

-- © Ciprianowords, Inc. 2011 --

Bethany

Bethany

I know Bethany gets Hamlet in much the same way that I do.
Downward cast, possible tears. Book open, she followed
every word in the movie. Forefinger on text
she stayed, lingered as the bell long past wrung
faded. Footsteps in the hall.

This is not just a part, but all
that matters. For every word spoken, another sung
caused a living Ophelia to dread the next.
And an English teacher, for lack of them, swallowed --
I know Bethany gets Hamlet in much the same way that I do.

-- © Ciprianowords, Inc. 2011 --

Promontory

Promontory

Through a sliver of eyelid I felt you shiver.
Not from wind or cold -- it was fear I saw.
Waves in your eyes, mist at my back.

Rocks and fish below, arms the horizon.
Quit it you pleaded as I blinded myself
abandoning my birth to your friendship.

My birth, life, and death, at a promontory.
An uncaring sea slapping in approval
of your decision to hug me closer to you.

-- © Ciprianowords, Inc. 2010 --