catastrophic from all angles
there’s no other way to
see to it – that

the gentle lull of life
bathes me again and again
over a pinnacle of light

always bright to be
just like you,
beautiful to behold in a

yellow sun aghast at the phrase
in this, yet the river flows of me,
as clarity of moment unfolds

in the copper brown of
a wiser moon – central to the
core of my hope, my love for you –


© K. James Ribble

At the Edge of Summer

this, my heart in
willowed movements,
now – us as one,

like a vast and open atrium
our time shrouds me
(on the scale of Earth)

invoking incantations
like a periphery of life
as I let it pass

extant and severe;
all of this is you, like
mapping the aftercrush

at the edge of summer
your voice calls to me in these
woodlands of lake and marsh

becomes the sunder of
my onyx devotion
an open realm, a ridge

of beige that longs for the
russet quiet of these merewinds
as corners of doubt

and trust are vanished
in the virgin merge
of aspen, elm and moss –
the night has gathered us
collecting our dreams

© K. James Ribble


forgive me for the
thought that I could hold
you bracing past alliances

yet still

holding on to
a peaceful desperation

shimmering gold aligns
with my heart a thread and
thimble, in a theater of Notion

breaching past the sun
across eons before the
light began: our line to now, is.

I know I’ve known no rest
and the days are long despite
the throw of loss –

But you wanted to go
And I tried, rang forgiveness
Pierced by the cobalt
drum of light and pain –

Always there was you
And then you were gone.

© K. James Ribble

I Clear the Path


I clear the path for my way, at
The periphery of time – a wanton
Disregard for calm and clamor

In phase of pines standing
At the lake as mirror among
Temples of the crying wind

Of belonging taxon and adrift in
Legion with the glow of rose

Of fecund petals, light-ghosts
Dancing on the sleeve of a
Beige and bracken love

Bring me in time to an
Open door before the
Day expires where we walk

Grasped in the grace
of silent surrender

© K. James Ribble

The Longest Day of the Year


for every day I’ve lost
there’s an hour bending
towards the light of you
in a ravel of silent tears
majestic like the rainfall
in the morning sun of ecru
all a counterflow as afterlife
surrounding me bathed in
this haunting glow and sounds
drenched in ambers of chiffon
and the raucous
rage of thunder


© K. James Ribble

Only If The Summer Could

If the summer could
sing the song
of my heart

she’d sing in the
mallow greys of a
fading canopy of light

across the face of time
gold as the
golden grass that

flows between us
where the long lazy gaze
of the sky is bound

in fields of evening blue
I find you there
in the silence of infinity

as we become
this place transposed
a gateway of guesses

(if you would have me)
as I cross the bask
of slow and dying winds

of midsummer
the larks sing serine
stand in a flightless

shading of grip and character
like the soft and quiet oaks
only if the summer could

© K. James Ribble