NASA Image of the Day

Thursday, August 26, 2010

Vulcanic Tantrum

See the rock and steam of upheaval,
Ridding itself of itself, upon the steadied
Bosom of rock and traversed petrified field!

They slide down the sharpened, impossible peaks of
into the
Blackened, crawling sludge-river of fire and fresco.

All are rock to rock, nudged and nuanced
Into fossilized frenzy.

Trees in Fog

There is no echo here, in this grotto.
The fog, like errant fireside smoke,
shrouds and silences, reminding the looming dark shadows of intrusion, that theirs is a momentary presence, controlled and blanketed, still, by Nature's Gray.
Sentinel trunks, stretching upwards into the vapoured gloom, bid oblivion skyward,
And the still, small trickle of mesmerized water, wending its way carefully
through the mire, is
A mere memory of spring abandon, which, nymphlike,
Splashes stretching fragrant blooms with every
Their absence, and that of the sun-dappled hillside, are
strangely noted.

Tuesday, August 17, 2010

Dragon Breath on Morning Water

At long last, like August light, Faulkner's mention bemoaning end,
The lake's clear glass surface showed breath upon it,
Wrinkling suddenly, as if, after sighing,
Some unseen hand smoothed it out, carefully, like a coverlet for fish,
The long stringing lace of lake bottom greens.

Rolling forth, sheen glimmer blinked amongst the folds,
Reflecting shine eyes, appearing and disappearing,
Like gigantic fireflies
Displaced, and drowned, yet preserved under glass, amidst the waves.

Saturday, August 14, 2010

Docking Indigo

When the indigo ink of the evening flows out across a sky bleeding into soft whispers and gleaming glimpses,
The stars shall, with clear, pointed angle fingers, lead the small, spare whisps of words
Escaping between lips - between us, lightening quiet -
And capture them, like quick hands, to breathe them back, softly, in
Etched echoes of sparkle, sprinkled without care, across an endless, undulating canvas.
I shall catch the quick breath against my mouth, as your lips move softer than a feather, across mine, in an almost-kiss,
And disturb the wheeling moon, in its winding arc, as it bounces beneath clouds, dodging the dark side of itself in earnest moves, like a chess piece seeking to show its face, in a mate-move, all the while
Gliding like a sudden, shooting shower of meet or might
Upon which we wish, and linger,
And love, languidly.
....oh, languidly, like
Your sangria tongue against my ear, mapping the invisible baton and slow turn of
Step, and circle, as it is mirrored and measured, in the sway and sigh that is the
Matched-more-precision whirl of
Planet We.