Saturday, June 03, 2006


Originally uploaded by equusignis.

Candy hued ponchos
Whirring spokes passing in view
One thought; rice and home


Light gleams on wet path
Sitting close, night eatery
Food, drink, smiles, laughter


Courteous smile glows
One root, two apparent worlds
Shyness? No, candor

orange woman (2003)

today i left the painting of the orange woman,
the one you called the elf queen,
to the care of our hairdresser, barbara.

she recognized it as your favorite painting.
i thought back and wondered
when had she seen it?
during one of our parties?
another time that i am not aware of?


that painting has been an icon for us
in some sort of way
for a long time.

now it faces a different space,
now neither of us are in its possession,
i will miss it
as perhaps you may have missed it,
the way that i missed you.

on the inside

from the candlelight
darkness wavered,

amber at the horizon
and deep blue high above.

i have left and perhaps
have come back, but to what
i have no conviction.

if this is a chance of change,
do i have the courage?

i could not have let this
sleeping dream waiting.

nothing keeps me from
the images as these points are
drawing futures of now.

memories keep themselves.
pain keeps their own,
but it is always on the inside.

Falcon and Dove

Morning comes as a falcon finds a fluttering dove.
Morning hungers for the feast of the day’s harvest.
She gives upon the chanting songbirds so enveloped

In their self directed sermon and convicts herself
To the choice of not desiring nor feeding on those
Beings who cannot see themselves.

Though their songs sound bright and glorious,
They are less than empty echos in their recitation
Of the litanies of a forlorn god.


So his big mind
and godlike attitude
refuses the danger of his ego
and rolls into his own folly.

He curls up like a millipede,
affording himself protection
from the outside world but
incinerates from within.


Matias comes to me in my sadness
He purrs to the dropping of my tears

He knows and understands of things
Ican only begin to imagine

WhileI hold him the horizon exists
Yet he is the package and I am the bearer

Holding this heart that exists
In another creature

Failing to live simultaneously
De coeur et de corp


White, amber and grey
Sculpted eaggs, rocky seashore
Crusty brine on stones


Cove within seacliff
Safe shelter of long ago
Her smile in my mind


So young, she was then
My best friend’s little sister
Now shows me wisdom

Siren and Phoenix

Originally uploaded by equusignis.

In Defiance of Fortune

Never think you fortune can bear the sway
Where virtue's force can cause her to obey.

– Elizabeth I (1533-1603)

Friday, June 02, 2006


the hair clip
Originally uploaded by equusignis.

She sits crouched in the corner
on the floor down below,
in the first aisle of the bookstore.

Coal black hair trying to stray from
a baby plastic clip the color of green antifreeze
catching stray sunlight.

Alice Munro doesn’t quite do it for her.
She stands, shifts right, twists left hip forward
and stares at a Palakniuk cover.

Still unsatisfied, turning from the neck,
shoulders following, she flees the aisle
and glides over to non-fiction.

She lingers in my vision
for three sedate breaths and
disappears into classics.

The moment turns inside out
when she leaves my sight.
She is likely trading verses with
Beatrice in one of Dante's cantos.

Wednesday, May 31, 2006


sometimes we look in reflections
to see what has passed behind us,
to see what in our past still remains
imprinted into the film that
separates present and past,
the molecular region where
we end and the outside begins

sometimes we look in reflections
in search of a mirrored essence,
hoping that real, drawn expressions
comes at least close to emotional sketches

sometimes we pray that the brilliance
of the lush hue of blood's crimson ink
has not given up life to a dried peat brown

Tuesday, May 30, 2006

In Difference

this one is dedicated to George W. Bush

Between midnight and twilight,
Somewhere here
Strange sounds emanate.
Voices of cultures we don’t acknowledge.

Somewhere here
In the darkness of prejudices
There is music we’ve yet learn to hear.

Frayed ends start with whipped lines,
Conscience in the guise of compliance.
Past is not past, it just is,
When faces remain in the shadow hungry
We learn to let the voices remain silent.

Denying infants milk is a learned behavior,
Giving a stump as aid is a learned behavior.

After all we are a learned culture
We know how to twist our backs,
Eyes looking at the television,
Fingers changing channels.


Heartbreaks never come as a convenience.

They roll through like hummingbirds
that decide the night is too long.

Too much energy, not enough nourishment.

They strain to stay awake as long as they can,
holding for dawn and risking the fall
frail fluttering wings that would blemish angels.

Heartbreak’s mortal beauty stirring.

The beauty of broken organs,
mortality make angels nothing less than God’s
personal, unwilling janitors of His perfect world.

the full sun

hi no moto
Originally uploaded by equusignis.
don't walk into the full sun

wait until there is cloud cover
wait until the air is moist
with the tears of a watchful god

be patient and watch for compassion
gently rising in the mist


Originally uploaded by equusignis.
sometimes it takes a real feather quill, sharpened with a blade in your own hands for true sentiments, true emotions unphased by reflection, the first thoughts of an unclouded, ignorant mind to come out...