In Me

They are one
living as two,

     seamlessly,

the other
we are not
sure about,

     there may be more,

     we don't go looking.

Neither completely
body or mind,

they politely
step aside for each

     when it's one's turn to go out,

passing through
     the membrane
that cannot contain
     either,

a voluntary location
to repose until a
call to action rings
a quick exchange

     for the proper face.


©Eusebeia Philos 2013

Time Springs

What does time ease
but springs in an old clock,

winding down hours
until energy is spent,

metal coils
without purpose,

waiting for
animation.


©Eusebeia Philos 2013

Tide Marks

Tide marks
of your desires

rise and fall
on my heart,

the degrees
      distant,

leave scars
stained loud,

stretched,

in your oceans
     of storm
          and calm.



©Eusebeia Philos 2013

Fruit

Meet me in
the old grove
beneath the
untended fruit,
where the sun leaves
its last touch,
and we'll fill 
ourselves
of sweet flesh
in warm grass.



©Eusebeia Philos 2013

Brown Autumn

In farmer's fields
green that screamed
of spring rise and 
vibrant summer life
drifts to dry brown of 
autumn's harvest store.


©Eusebeia Philos 2013

Ashes

Even in ashes
our words stirred,

elevated
in warm currents,

declining
to descend.


©Eusebeia Philos 2013

Flying Leaves

Driving on the familiar road
in the early morning distance
between death-like sleep
and caffeinated hyper-sight,
a form moved across my eyes
ahead of me,
above the lanes.

The sky swirled high
with weaving leaves,
growing outward
and pulling back in
like a chest rising and falling
in search for air.

The spell lingered
for a few more deep breaths,

then broke in a rush
as the leaves spilled
out of the sky
and became
hundreds of joyous sparrows
on way to winter's home.


©Eusebeia Philos 2013

Note: an expanded revision of "Flying Leafs" posted earlier.

Buzzards

the sky stands tall
buzzards glide
in spirals
stacked 1-2-3
descending to earth
where death eats in dirt


©Eusebeia Philos 2013

Flying Leafs

Driving on the familiar road
in early morning absorption,
living again after 
night's temporary death,

the sky swirled high
with weaving leafs
till the spell
turned them back
to sparrows by the hundreds


©Eusebeia Philos 2013

Cracked Window

Every day

she stared out

through a cracked window

at the world around her

and came to understand life

in shattered visions.

©Eusebeia Philos 2013

Fuel and Air

Unrestricted in space
we are volatile,
in freedom we twist
into turbulence
like spirits released
from a long,
lonely confinement,
swirling in and out
of each other,
intertwined,
a spark ignites
our primal elements,
weaving, flowing,
threaded together
into this burning knot,
a dancing ball of blue flame
released,

burning and not consumed.


©Eusebeia Philos 2103

Senryu 1

hearing her heart call ~

he strains against his conscience ~

unable to respond


©Eusebeia Philos 2013

He Takes

He stole the gold

wrist and neck chains,

pawned 'em

for good money,

took the cash,

rings, coin collection

-gold and silver,

collectors guns,

an iPod and

its speakers,

cashed in the

savings bonds

and his own

insurance

policy,

"lost" an iPhone,

smashed a car,

blew out engine one,

blew out engine two

(different car)

He's a thief

so he can be an addict,

he likes heroin

heroin eats him

He's a liar

so he can be an addict

he likes heroin

heroin speaks truth

He steals the truth

so he can be a lying addict

he says

trust me

so he can con me

again

too late for locks,

nothing left

©Eusebeia Philos 2013

Your Word

Your word is only a sound you make,
a physical thing
it seems
     an involuntary response
          to some distant stimulus
chord vibrations that are pleasing
some center of your throat
in your cat-ness
     purring

for it has no connection
to what is here,
right now, in front of us,
was it even an interaction,
your reaction
to what I said,
cognizant of my sound
but not my thoughts?

Random follow-ups
put you in some distant place,
transported
or perhaps you were never here
to begin
this sin
of pretending to understand.


©Eusebeia Philos 2013

Wedding Dancing

Aches and pains
disappear

at the open bar

in open fascination
of the pulsing,
writhing mass
of dancing bodies
in techno-trap-
whadizthizmuzic.

A few quick
dance lessons

from Jack Daniels and
the music pulses in

matched synapses,

gives me that old
fashioned primal beat.

Salome, you dears,

don't ask for my head

when you nab me

for a dance, you

three, barely
thirty-something

daughter's friends,

in your combo of
youth and virtuosity.

Escorts at both elbows
with one leading the way,
to their dance floor domain
we go, those three
and my gray goatee to

jump

gyrate

bump

to the rhythmic method

of da-da-dancing,

definitely not the father-daughter dance.


©Eusebeia Philos 2013