Autumn Relections

Just Thinking Out Loud


I drew lines delicate llama trying to widen my gaze upon the bluest of horizons. I sketched my heart like a lily sky, treading clouds with soft shuffled taps. I needled the air like a pine butterfly, flying amid the copious dawn light. I gathered the sea in my pocket, feeling the ebb and flow against my salt skin. I hovered in the tall grass plains like a mountain solitude questioning the sunrise's knees. I longed for sleep with satin wrapped hopes, and wished today would just kneel in violet prayers. I stood like stone upon the phosphorous ground speaking about the vastness of what it means to be alive. I ventured into the wilderness of solitude with tears for a sleeping bag. I made suggestions to the Heavens and waited for a reply, but all I got was cobblestone distances that mocked me with nocturnal laughter. I took brine to heart with invisible gestures, the dizzying scarlet whirl of movement undoing before my eyes. I imagined numbers in immense equations, but always ended up at one. I denied the doors their right to open, preferring the anonymity of shadows, a morning ghost seeking to find autumn.

Kevin Harling.

Rainy Days

Just Like Still Water ( it ripples )

Like a sycamore, you come swimming with telegrams,
your disposition of magnolia,
you walk in flying clouds for shoulders
extracting vinegar like the wind.

Like the moon that moves snail hovering,
hovering beyond the wines night,
you come vaulting in like a rainbow braid,
uncoupled by the anise sky of blue.

Like the dawning of a tear white,
you linger smoke red eyes like a lost mariner,
lamenting the gradual decay of wooden hopes
like a sailboat of ears listening.

Like the flint of water you dissolve,
hemmed in by whistling bells and morning,
you loiter like charcoal in the dusk's hands
trying to measure your skin with laughter.

What lies dormant between us inhabiting the sea
like an umbrella, nameless and choking like wings
of a blind dove, you could fly away to where?

Like the inconsolable tomorrow that asks no questions
you leverage forgetfulness like an anchor,
choosing stubbornness as a colour to wear
throwing stones as if skipping across a lake.

All of this seems close to faraway, today
sinks like a leaf of mute ivy, harrowed by
hipbones and ankles of displeasure, these
ambushed lips violet and fretting like the waves.

Kevin Harling.



Metamorphosis

Mother-of-pearl butterfly tunneling through the light
whip lashed by the perfume of nocturnal slumber
awaken this night of eyelashes,
your butterfly feet of nipples that crackle
like the movement of dawn in cathedrals,
show me silver distances and lips made of wings,
show me your uncertain cupola of bells,
chiming like a stones skin,
whisper to me with black notes of blood
descending like a sheer stocking,
tell me about your reincarnated thong, how it
sounds when it sings in the mist of morning,
Mother-of-pearl butterfly land upon my silence,
furrow in my savannas, rest aroused in my
vines of peach metals, engorged by the delicate
weathers here, and change.

Kevin Harling.