rising with the breath to sit in between that one and the next a conversation born in the swell under the wide evening sky nothing to hold wind through my fingers the day rests on the horizon slipping beneath the rolling sea your words land like the crashing waves on jagged rock worn by years between who I was and am morning brings the same as waves touch the shore shaping the sand stone stands in salute to the passing light drawing long shadows to greet the ocean's return ~ la 2020
still has the price tag on the back neon orange sticker warning me that for a $1.99 broken wounded lines will scatter themselves in black ink visible in the sunlight scrawled over torn pages until the crisp cover is worn down a hundred days of verse upturned by the rage of existence separate me from the stones rolling in shallow river water set me heavy against the current until I am smooth from the turning you will be the only witness catching drops in the creases hidden beneath to cover fingertips reaching out to hold what cannot be touched keeper now between two pale cards like cupped hands drinking along the riverbank balanced on the edge toes grip the sand drink deeply before letting go once more make room for more more stones broken wings tears laughter sunlight dancing in the ripples I watched you go with the clouds another storm passing wind bending the trees low tearing the earth like paper until stillness stumbles in held my breath long enough before going under turn the page to write I love you the poetry of wildflowers caught in the reeds. ~ la 2020
I wake before the sun again listen to the passing train wind its way into the city through the trees and sleeping streets to greet the downtown blue-violet sky not ready yet to welcome the soft pale pink tendrils of morning into its grasp pull the blankets around me against the chill a few moments longer I left the window open frosted-night breeze slipped in to remind my hand lies empty in the darkness calling to you to hold it while the rest of me falls away silence sits heavy on me can't move until the next breath or the next in between waiting not ready to let go sheets and blankets tangled limbs stumble to the kitchen for coffee I watched through the glass another day unfolds itself to steady march across treetops until blue-violet night unrolls again to fill the frame ~ la 2020
I threw down the dusty bag untied the cord and pulled the fabric wide golden face of the sun, white orchids and blue morphos greeted me, a whisper of what remains unsaid old photographs, half-finished stories, unsent letters fill the darker folded corners and I, I am left still looking to see if I have anything to say ~ la 2020
lei fraser 