The Cirrus of Alpine

There is an understanding
when the voice of the
wind calls out to you
encountering the seat of
all your fears laid bare
by the longspur’s call, where
an embrace of great length,
like an unspeakable founding,
recalls the fog of rote collection
remembering all the things you
could have said
in a moment of bravura, like
swallowing the feeling you sense
when inhaling the cool fall
air of Autumn’s copper sky,
you release and let go the breath
of contiguity in a claret-rose
acceptance, a veneration
of delivery from Time’s healing hand.

 

© K. James Ribble

Final Moments

In the final moments of the day

I often find you waiting

in a manifest pause

Filled in warmth

of the sweetest summer

Where even now

in the cold, inimical

bindings of the dying day,

– still

the light in your eyes

-spent in time-

crosses the aeons, and

Tends to me in a missive

from the depths of your heart

with the concision of

my breath

And I hold you there –

the day in its finality

unfolding inside me

like a tutelary

lessons of love assigned

to learned halls of my life

caste against the

stark silhouette

of Autumn’s setting sun

 

 

© K. James Ribble

 

Origin of Fire

No matter how hard

I try to forget

there,

in the future of my memories

it is always you that

appears in a forming,

-an effortlessness-

like desert rainfall,

like the way obsidian

catches light in the truculence

of its own darkness

you are placed in mind

like a sonder locked within

the story of your topaz eyes

and I find you there hovering

above the vast precarity of time –

within me

breaking, like

discovering fire

its origins at the root

of your heart

 

© K. James Ribble

 

#savageprompts

spruce and juniper

In

The spruce and juniper

I climb in cogitation

seeking wisdom of light

flush among the trees

of the forest deep

the same xeric light

tendentious without these

landmarks

wayfaring, beaming light in

principles of love

Relative or not.

In anxious atrophy like

ideas never acted on

the chance to try once more

bears the weight of

knowing:

same place, different time

 

 

© K. James Ribble

spruce and juniper

In

The spruce and juniper

I climb in cogitation

seeking wisdom of light

flush among the trees

of the forest deep

the same xeric light

tendentious without these

landmarks

wayfaring, beaming light in

principles of love

Relative or not.

In anxious atrophy like

ideas never acted on

the chance to try once more

bears the weight of

knowing:

same place, different time

 

 

© K. James Ribble

A Slip of Time

I am born to you,
a rebirth in time
like the morning sun
takes its place
in the tranquil sky
like the way
my hand slips
so easily into
the small of your back
it is this alterity, this
change lifts my heart
nearer to you circling,
coming ‘round like the way
you smell in the same
way the clouds bear rain
on a fire’s flight of
birds singing, I sing in
the same gasp of breath
that brings me to you
brings me home
to the time of us.

 

©K. James Ribble

Beholden

SFE_Nat_Frst

I am beholden to the month of June
like a reliquary where a larkspur sky
contains the blue woodgrain of lost stars
in a sacred exploit of shaded form bleeding
light from the purification of my time here –

As if I am the offering to this place,
this landscape of harsh beauty, a litmus
of the blue-black night on a wide open
horizon, I hold my light in ascension, to be
present here – now above the ramadas

Of my own body as this resting sky of my
oblations break to the crease of a Lapis blue
ether, like flux in the canted road ahead
among dogbane and saltbush, bringing me
closer to the cardinal refuge of night

 

© K. James Ribble