The languor of sunrise
strikes me found
calling to lost segments
of a dream diminished
now discursive as
the platinum-grey of memory
becomes the afterwards, garrulous
in the current, fluid
waters of life –

a taciturn instance this
          flow of my heart
now swells with the
         summer’s silken winds

cantilevered & married
in a tempest of thought
bearing precious thunder
rolling like a
godhead of my days
a variant ilk
scorched in love
(so much love)

that I dream awake,
in the flowering of my
own life’s loving,
the crimson blues
aloft a star-filled sky
hung as light-trains
in a rear view mirror
of every decade
to every Now.

© K. James Ribble


Your hands, your light,

the sustenance of
my heart
as me giving way

Arriving as vapor
in visceral transparency

placing me
in a stave
of our cadence

a bold-flow choice
viewed behind

patterns of
hydrangea blues,

like a melody motioning me
in a cantabile of chord

and movement,
keys the pitch

smooth as acres of eternity,
riding damask waves of

trusting decisions
in a knowing
in a razing of

all pedantry and ego
with sweet dollops of lucidity –

like remembering the
smells of August in a
New York City of 1988.


© K. James Ribble

Moment’s Passing

There are certain
reflections of time, past
the way of seeing,
like the congruency of
an orrery, the possibilities
obliged to the fruit
of all my labors
marked in each
moment passing in predation,
like a compendium of ifs
adjacent to the fall
of my heart
by the echoes of regret
in decibels of
callous modernity –
this universe of fog and
inquiry causes me
to stop, take pause –
and it is in this second
where re-cognition begins
as the daylight flailing
in a long day’s reckoning



© K. James Ribble

Snow Moon

You come to me

like the sound of rain in summer
a faint rhythmicity in your chaos

almost circadian

like the way an audience of memory
crosses downstage chiasmatic, full of life

like the snow moon

grown gibbous tonight in time she
didn’t mention all the ways she has me

in her silver haven

where life made leading the course of living
our path reside in a great loop of time

across the campaign of crying

in a matte effect of forgone emotion
recalling all the ways, all the sweet ways

that I love you


© K. James Ribble

The Boneyard of Grieving

mournful light shadows
the intolerance of occlusion

the canyon pinks of an open sky
now calm, soothes the lonely

cloudwaters reflected in the
soft drone of complacence

their subversion to vagrant
standing as piquant yet alone &

trophic, like a sentinel milled
smooth to feel a man fallen

who, forlorn & forgotten,
never asked for forgiveness

yet all my brothers walked at
the boneyard of this grieving

their own lands accepting tears
before the air could receive

their grounding, making time
appear in dilation lost long

in the vapors of sorrow,
like rain pinning the circle

of dreams merged magnificent
inside their waking hours

© K. James Ribble


“We have lived upon this land from days beyond history’s records, far past any living memory, deep into the time of legend. The story of my people and the story of this place are one single story. No man can think of us without thinking of this place. We are always joined together.”

—Taos Pueblo (Tuah-Tah) elder / New Mexico History Museum

The Agony of Nature

There is an agony of nature, a
recovery to the bone of remiss

like recalling a dream
long after its impression

the light sews its legacy impounding
the moon in timber grays, coming to me

untold, unfolding the twilight of
recollection, then in the

remembrance of that moment,
befalling redolent in the gold

sinecure of arbitration,
vacuous as assassins in the

evening of love’s equanimity,
its splendor just beyond

recognition, forms a lost tableau
of silence like a yellow lotus
in the gilded light of memory


© K. James Ribble

The Gravity of Sapphire

I walk the streets
of your voice
in luxuriant languor
rush the lavender curbs
stroll the edges of your
smile in
crease-less weight
like the gravity of
sapphire is boundless
in its depth, I am
foretold by your light
in shadows, in
the fervent history of
our time
your eyes an escape to blue
you are an anthem
to my heart,
my steps a journey
to your songs of Life …


© K. James Ribble


On a moon’s fortnight borne of your
berth on waters I’ve
traveled, long as a longing can,
I slip the canvas sails of this ship
Released unfurled into the
Open ocean of you – I’m pulled
Taught by a firm but steady wind
Like your breath against my skin
As the rise and fall of each exhale
Manifests the course and direction
Of my heart, my yearning reflected
In the dying sky at the brink of abandon,
A meteoric rise lights your eyes
Sets awash, in marlin greys and
Whispering pinks, this morning of
My dawn emotions:

Yes, I’m coming home,
I’m coming home to you.


© K. James Ribble


Dreaming of Calm

In every breath I’ve ever drawn
You’ve been cradled in my heart

A serenade rising, emerging
like a glistening cypher of Time

Balanced on the shoulder
of its delirious melody

Life’s loving river flows as such
There are no sweeter sounds of you

Placed like the capstone
of Andromeda’s fate

Crushed ignoble as her beauty
Every element, every fiber of this

Song ignites the soul of my being
Like a portage to the lullaby crossed

In the gleam and gem of you, Your love
and light fills me from the other side


© K. James Ribble

The Big Fall

The distance between
the love we had and now
makes the universe appear
so very small

an ocean of nothingness
grips me in this lightness
resounding of you
as you run with Jupiter to the royal

colors of the moon
(before) we were a youthquake of
discovery in eloquent dreams –

As for my own
effortless fling to
failure I have
succeeded you on so many counts

when I saw you
like an abeyance
following me
Labyrinthian, an immersion

of you, and I as mere
solivagant, alone and
By the shell of warmth

in our byzantine
summer turned gilded
By the winds of Autumn –
cautious animation

Pierced by each
leafless tree as they
sing to me in Winter’s key,
each note drenching me in memory,

memories of a place
we used to walk
tethered by common time

As if awash in that summer’s sun
rendered glazed in open fields,
I grasp for your heart
like trying to catch

one’s own shadow, reaching out,
seeing what is possible
but never feeling fully –
fallen and incomplete.

© K. James Ribble