the perimeter of this
your ever-present light
status off stage
quo to the wings
Beatrice never knew
the architecture of time
be it lost in rhythms
or planted by limitations
all I can say is that
once you are there
the songs of it are gratis
it is the light that surrounds
all artistry of love
no matter the medium
into the night aloft
we go –
© K. James Ribble
Autumn lulls me
to sleep in anguish
residing by the river
of her fears this pumpkin
masked specter flows
beneath the breath
of a deleterious moon
its shadows coveting
the ground upon
which she walks
in a prophesy of time,
an integer of dread,
like pristine clocks
in a pettifog of
lubricity forming
makeshift mirrors
of the dead in the
oft forgotten motion
of bringing mountains
of apology to its own
vacant treachery of civility
like the verse of
vacillated prosody
it is cementitious
in its delight
© K. James Ribble
I am Carried in
by the flow of life
on a slipstream in
dreams razed in sighs
by Autumn’s uncharted
revelation here, in
this Now released
this insight resides
in its Occurrence
from clarity entrusted
To my memory
All those memories, those
Childhood Moments
Of all those people
that Passed my way
Even the faces of the
Children and the
Infinite lot of People upon
which the road is turning
the Road of our re-turn
Each, they too, shall pass
As so shall you –
As so shall I
© K. James Ribble
I am in
a stasis
the limitless inertia of
your love
revealed
in supple decisions
in the rhetoric of heart
in simplicity of divinité,
the shimmering calm of fuchsine
aura, the flickering in the night
vectored by you
as if Venus sings to me (-in time-)
to the sweet sound of her light
becoming your vastness
astounding me in themes
of languid warmth
from beyond the light barrier
long, long before we began,
origins transforming
the zenith of who we are
as seminal beings
in a universe
learning how to love
© K. James Ribble
We change with the weight of time, our
sarcasm as a genealogy of repentance
lifting us to an-other gait toward redemption
and yet our words follow us, belonging
in ownership of Self relying only on now as,
a moment too soon, the flutter be-comes lost
like shifting sands aloft, foretold in
the breath of air, (which just sustains me)
I become this moment of elevation
a geometry of cynicism thrust against
the glare of my own honesty and in
that instance I am the flame of intention
© K. James Ribble
The moon is glib tonight
lost in its own thoughts
light shimmering
across this riverbank of lust
Transitory, her station lifts me
into her arms, carries me to a calmer
water just an arm’s length away
from my own awareness –
and so I reap the full weight of
what it is that I am seeing, my
own moment of clarity reflecting
the Self as I am at last, atoned.
© K. James Ribble
Summer has released me
into the arms of Autumn
surrendered by the shrinking
light of yesterday’s longing
as I place my hands into
a Mother Earth that cradles
me toward a new existence
aloft the portico of my dying days –
Please bury me again, sweet sun!
Bury me at a glacier’s length as time begins!
Like a leaf I fall to the furrowed soil,
my life begins anew in its fall to sorrow
Only this Moment’s time and place
denies the mystery of my monuments
to the Eros of my loving and feigns the
egregious light of day that succumbs to
the loss, the loss of all my sworn tomorrows
© K. James Ribble
as if pandering to a propaedeutic
staged in the tumult of preface
I am of myself monastic in time,
relinquished of thought for one moment –
– as the day is just beginning in
a hagiography of presence and light
© K. James Ribble
Thespian Drummer 