Rooted in spirit

  Morning raises purplebruises from  the nightwhere the stars burst in my veinsyou mutter your way throughmy sleep, like an echo.  Clouds brood under arain soaked sky, heavencan’t talk through crossedlines, one to one  doesn’tseem to be available. Time marches into serendipityclicking its heels, salutes thefly past, raising ribbons onold defeats, forever running. I meet myself at the cornerof the street, flee smooth facedoestrogen babes white skin,clutching at my one last egg:flicker of recognition passes for love. Spirits rise with the wind,riding mythical beasts, coursethrough red blood keep light flowing.It’s the light that’s noticeable,rising around me like a ballgown. Old women haunt metheir faces gnarled withuse, I teeter on the limitdiving from my spider’sthreads, trying not to dislocate. Betrayals cut too deeponly clouds to talk tobirdsong in my hairthrowing runes for breakfast.