Spirit Flight 478



I saw you looking at me

it all changed

birds left broken


under the nest

and the mink

out of its hole

in the world

seeded by aliens


the starlings lullaby .


I saw you

looking at me

but I don’t know

how to rise with you

the dessert rose

of cemetery road

in a jar on our table

decayed when you

gave the passepartout

to another

and I couldn’t get in

with the river

of my love

im not strong enough

against her current .


looking at me

I saw you

trying to spread dawn

from your jagged fracture

and I wanted

i really wanted

to touch you

but I heard the birds


on the road above


in their escape .

credits : first two photos by my daughter , Denise Thomasin Photography

Bridge to Detour


her soft lovely body

lays on blushing horizon

touching her as if

she were about to disappear

look , the bright moon

afraid of its own emptiness

the evening choking

over Whitefish Bay

two hundred miles of open waters

Lake Superiors graveyard

silver ships beyond the seas

no snow , no rain

no heat , only lands

refreshed by balmy breeze .


her soft lovely body

crossing over the bridge

east to Amsterdam , west

to Wamaia , north to Canada

south to Patagonia

looking for a tent show

in Point de la Batture

unable to yell

from Bay Mills outlook

where below the muskrat

comes up dead , his paws

closed tight

holding a little earth

for the Great Spirit to

make a new world .


her soft lovely body

sitting in the bathtub

arms wrapped around her knees

noone understanding

the future twisting the window crank of

broken dances or

the bizaar site

of the undertaker

riding upon a coffin

on the Great North Lake

emerging from thick fog white

or that jellyfish drifting purple

from across the Red Sea

out of place

like the boy appearing from the hole

in the knotty pine ceiling .


her soft lovely body

sings to berry laden bushes

he drops fruit

onto her opened night gown

staining blood

the stripped pine looking

like human skin

see the nail making

a stain in that tree

she has dirt under her nails

the freighter passes by

the osprey fish , windmills turn

a man with a day old beard drives by

drinking from a thermos .


see the grass growing in cracks

of deserted highway

did we trade wonder for reason

in the last moment .

let it be , let it be

her soft lovely body

gazing from Menominee Ridge

her soft lovely body

like a bud , like a bud

caught upon the erecting steel

of Mackinaw Bridge .

credits : Mackinaw Bridge photos by Dale De Vries Photography

Upper Michigan waterfalls by Daniel Cook

Loves Imprint – Copper Harbor



we traveled behind rain

you wanting

to find the way

nightwards when

sleep fluttered milkweed

upon my lashes

and where

the north panther

lay down again

its thunder



we traveled behind daisies

hiding tormented

tree stumps

unfathomable .

down wrong turns

me wanting

to roll in the hills

the tremble of

birthing winds

bouquet .



we traveled behind lake

your veins

like pine tree roots

the meadows

of your hands

abduct my flesh


to stretch sun

into storm .



we traveled  behind rooms

you wounding

the ghost

riding corridors of

your world .

me seeing

a nightingale naked

eclipsed upon

your lips

where petals stain


over a Two Hearted River

this is the strangest

garishly  glorious

life I’ve ever known .


The Same Place


I kiss you

with a mouth

of river hurricane

the fiddle she gave you

crushed by my wild waves .

you took her

to this same place

the crown of Lake Superior

her wedding veil


you did not see

deception in her curls

destroying you .

I am not another

with her eyes blind

I wonder do you

hear my accordion

the one I don’t

even know how to play .


You took me

to another same place

your heart cuts wonder

into my breath

the sigh of

your names together

carved like burning

tatoos into Cedar towns

storage barn


my words to silence

my dress of purple moaning

falls from the

branches of my shoulder

snapped by her sly scent

of flowers when crushed

that reside in wounds

you cannot hide .


the gods descent

watch me fall apart

walk on , walk on

I wonder do you

hear my accordion

the one I don’t

even know how to play .

credits : photo of Tree by Leanne Cole Photography at leannecolephotography.com ( fellow WordPress friend )

Two Hearted Landscape by Dan Cook Photography


Land Above the Bridge


thru one thousand words I crawl

watched and eaten by maggots and mole

here beneath county Keweenaw fog

look , her nightgown full of blood drips

oozing , oozing , gasping Lake Superior squalls

lay it all down

lay it all down .



words turned to mural by flying creatures crowd

the furious , frenzied fresco , lake eye sky thunders

words buried , stones too , below the blowing dune

the palace of gods mind a slumbering castle of sand .

see Santero , the saint carver .

lay it all down

lay it all down .


a glistening far far around the fog

I cannot die it sang too high I don’t know why

I don’t know why all the birds on the wing together sing

Allah , Allah , juniper jewels open his mouth

silence , silent screams , swallowed words

lay it all down

lay it all down .



the towns name is Detour

where I long to drink the running deer

arise , arise the weeping poet cries

from the ground musk staying warm

the Sandhill Crane dies .

lay it all down

lay it all down .


crows fall , stones call

lay it all down , lay it all down

pungent , paralyzing scent of grace abides in this misplace .



Vagrant Symphany


the vagabond , his emporium

lays down his orphaned head

a surrealistic pillow of pandemonium

a wrong note seals his fate

this night of winds enormous .

see his bones with softest hand

scattering peace to ten Peruvian mares

breaking hay bales upon this land .


do you really exist

did I really see you that day

was it the flash of the bulb or where

senseless scribbles of pencil lay .


the vagabond , his performance

opens a bottle of cheap wine

a renaissance of playing cards importance

the ace of hearts laid out on paper wrap

this dusk of summer solstice , a waning chorus .

see his eyes ,unlike Chopins nocturnes , a dreams disaster

he sits nere turning his head on a delicate unshaven neck

a song of one long crescendo sighing from the pasture .


do you really exist

did I really see you that day

was it the flash of the bulb or where

senseless scribbles of pencil lay .


the vagabond , his Europa

stands staring at voices in the barn

the moon of Jupiter quiets his colt Lakota

a sweet note , the Garden of Allah where

all horses talk keeping secrets , digging up diamonds

with no alliance of violence to capture

the peace of their king , the son of Zeus

the vagabond with wounded fracture .


do you really exist

did I really see you that day

was it the flash of the bulb or where

senseless scribbles of pencil lay .


did you tell me what they said

the horses surrounding you with warmth for bed .




Vulnicura ( injury , care of souls )


chanting , chanting

a woman grey screams

terrible terrible revenge .


the bamboo flowering

a hundred years transplanting

the man who fell to the earth

he walks towards new love from Kandahar panting .


the yellow frock opening

a sudden kiss upon her stomach. ner to mourn

he protects her , he does not tell her

a dove on the distant Oak yet unborn .


the naked neck shyly speaking

a sunbeam large as Zion to adorn .

the boy who appears from the hole in the ceiling

music heard out of the soil stillborn .


the insects chirping

some carry shelter wherever they go .

his mouth the brown nipples swallowing

sweet as he lays her below .



the tunic like a sheet now breathing

the lovers rise to the heavens sky

the flower of a saffron petal omelet

rests the white blush pure of her thigh .


Heras heart has a wicked tongue

a mouth filled with one thousand eyes

her threat burning resentment . yet behold

milk sprayed across the skies .


chanting , chanting

the lovers whisper with suckling contentment

terrible beauty to blossom avenge .


Credits : Girl in White – photo by Katie Chausheva … Sculpture by Christina Bothwell

Special gratitude to Aquileana ( La Audacia de Aquiles ) my wordpress friend for her inspiration from her beautiful blog on mythology

Song Book


she forgot the sun

she forgot the sun

they all thought she was wilder

in the presence of wonder

unattainable .


he recites poems

running up and down hills

a blazing thunderbolt

outshouting the surf

sensational .


she  forgot the other ones

they cannot hide

they are around the epicenter

a lever used to move the world

confrontational .


he is the hunter

catching light in his net

he is the Christ message

cosmic cathedrals

inspirational .


the lemur , I’m about to loose my mind

sharing common ancestry

sunworshipping , taboos revered

humanities song book

untraceable .


they see a second sun

a light around the equator

as the ring around Saturn

a diamond on her delicate finger

unmistakable .


she forgot the sun

she forgot the sun

he thinks of poems

everything real in its aromatic

reeking glory , the presence of her wonder

rotational , gravitational , insatiable .


life was staggeringly unpredictable

his map took her breath away

fate was swift , the verging sea

her skin could blindside anyone

wild in its sacred scent

the sun falls .


Credits : third photo of young man by David Talley Photography … all others from Pinterest