WHAT IS A MOMENT

what is a moment

there are these moments
split, significant, surreal
crisp to the ethereal
mind
moist to the earth
blended with the blood
revived inside of bones
weighty with a silent stone

there are these moments
found in clouds
or olive wood
or rising limitations
broken vinous
glass cutting or
being polished on
fate's warm beach
once walked upon
by four bare feet

there are these moments
that define
like red scars and black tattoos
burn flesh like yellow flames
deep past the skin
there are
words like metal daggers
snapping old branches
you listened to the rest
wind whipping and cracking
not me against you
and not again
your heart is your test

there are these moments
those words don't
note with blood or
strengthen bones
they are the moments
of pictures of portraits
left hanging in a home

there is this moment
when an infinite soul pauses
a reflection finds another hand
birthed
from a puddle of tears
left building and swirling
water's circles staring
back at us
uniting divinities
all knowing bursts
loves faith will translate
to the face
of a seasoned woman

TJK

FAITH QUA FEAR

Faith Qua Fear

In dreams, in night, in present or future dark edges

fear's invisible black eyes hold me proxy to each day.

I habitually walk on creaking hardwood checking

on the rhythmical breathing of my children sleeping.

     One uncontrolled,

in-between and unexamined,

untold specific branch

ransacks the dark aloof molecules

running rampant reverently

around the wee hours

of the still moving shadows—

fear's ticking

hands and red licking fire,

         water and screaming,

                death's door thuds.

What does a human hold valuable?  Empty restaurant tables? Permanence?

The status or the shrieking? The impecunious sphinx that is still rising?

Shades of sheltered pink emanate from behind fertile leaves, each burst of

sunlight wakes me to the morning that replaced my fears with a brave me.

TJK

Check out dverse poetry-- The morning I woke without fear.

KICKING A PEBBLE PELL-MELL

Kicking a Pebble Pell-mell

we all have our damages--

rusty fences

shingles missing

cracked windows

a few weeds growing

or wild honey blooming--

let uncertainty

in the end,

the end of day, fall

asleep with the dark as

abandoned ravished lovers
and wake to the

the sun

holding the hand

of our eternal mother.

TJK

THE WORLD STOOD STILL

The World Stood Still

A thought without shape is rare;

a flower in spring that might not bear

petals and scent to attract a need,

and rarer still is the shape

of something as delicate as a face.

Your face

flooding north, east, south, and west

to the nature of a

body which holds tenderly a smile.

A three dimensional ephemeral moment

found and lost in the distance of oceans

and bonded to

the frozen clock of time,

fading to the flat line of your impearled heart.

And today, I wake and find my fate

to be mixed into your universe. We  

ascend into the blue sky of yesterday

and today and tomorrows.

It is said we say farewell and hello

to no obligations of the parting and the meeting.

I did not see you coming, as I did not

foretell the cloudy past to end with a sun beam

blooming this morning. Yet,

each face, your face, is beautifully enlightened and

walks the continued extending path all

while the world stood still to embrace another union.  

Alive is the beginning,

as we dance to the end of another

flat line,

burning and churning into  

life’s parting hour glass of time.

TJK

MY IMMORTAL BLACK SHINES

My Immortal Black Shines

I prayed as a mortal girl, tread mire

looking for peace, as I consumed  

the inside flesh of my burning home.

I kneel as a woman trembling before my pyre,

my naked bones resurrected, my soul’s nimbus glows,

my Phoenix rose to restore my faith,

a mosaic of talons and golden layers of silent thrones.

It is an uncharted epitome to uncover change,

universal bonfires leaving me with a conquest of cinders,

cool water follows and continues to cleanse,

an earnest path that has taken me to a heavenly you.

TJK

THE CLOCK WAS TICKING

The Clock Was Ticking

To love rarely

rather than deeply

is words falling

between the spaces of

my spread fingers;

the untamed air is rushing past

the tender vulnerability

of years of yes;

the weight of a feather

balanced to a heart.

Love

rushing past our

tender faces as the heavens 

annihilates the wisdom

of my loneliness.

In my solitude,

I crave and take the sweetness

of flesh between pages,

between the whispers

of words,

between the moments

of your definitive parchment,

between what my creation craves.

Exhausted I pause,

in my lone footsteps

for the dirge of you and I

knowing

I would have rather loved deeply

than died.

 TJK

SNOW

Snow

One

brief sunrise  hidden behind

a thick veil of cold, gliding

slivers of silver ice gradually

silencing the earth.

Milky moon, gray blue reflection

asleep and alone close to the inglenook.

Barren blanket of white

caves in the birds and huddles in the mouse.

Branches are the air’s tendrils of the sea,

water’s growing crystals, blanco fingered coral,

tez pale morning birthing frozen tears.

TJK