Spherical

There is exotic in repeating,

pouring  in a censer.

Swinging lasso, carefree.

It floats circular, heady, hypnotic;

pollinating everything open in my wake.  

Ritual of joy.

This time, I am brave enough

to leave nothing unsaid;  the whole

makes cosmic sense. 

Orbed.  Embraceable.

I am compelled to whisper it in round. 

A chant.  Maybe a prayer,
on the brink of a spell. 

tk/August 2014

Hypnotic read by R.A.D. Stainforth ...

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Whether

Musician in the Rain, Robert Doisneau

Our ritual forecast:

clouds in northern parts

discussed a dozen charming ways.

I tell you nonchalantly

how windows rattle,

twister of the decade roars in my chair.

You do not realize Fahrenheit;

move knee-deep in symphony,

arrange the tempest of my own making,

envelop me in temperate.

No matter how hard we try

we cannot ignore stray raindrops.

I look at you with frankness;

ask whether or not it is now.

tk/January 2014

R.A.D. Stainforth delivers the forecast beautifully... 

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Necessary Ritual

Think past stones―

to rivers, folded passages,

fade the loud vacancy

to a dream of heat and softness.

Press a warm one to your face,

inhale until you know

the way cotton smells

mixed with rain-soaked hair.

Each hushed and stacked,

ready to be grabbed,

wrapped at the drop of a wet hat,

or step from a morning bath ―

catch wild domestic drips

from a common kitchen sink.

tk/April 2013 

Thanks to the talented R.A.D. Stainforth for reading this poem. 

Woman With a Towel, 1898, Edgar Degas

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