I fill the cup …

Transience of time
the changes of every
moment I’ve moved towards you
adrift in the bluest flow of living

I drink freely …

We travel together/apart
even for the shortest time
Emerging souls set against the
ravishes of each days end

I am still thirsty …

you bring me to the edge
exposed beyond these words
like the ocean’s tears unable
to quench its own sorrows

I want to know …

as I walk my heart the empath
beyond this city of my longing
the fullness my own words
falling short, so short of you, yet

I fill the cup …

still drinking from a chalice
left empty of the life where
leaves are already falling, where
the treeline pillars the sky
in southern formations of light
© K. James Ribble

Why Do We Fall?

We cry and cry
Lost in tears on a wayward wind
Shedding salt for those who
Cannot love us back

We run and run
Eloquent foot race to
Life’s mirror asking
Questions of self-denial

We sleep and sleep
Try to lose all that time
Only to find these mercies
Keep us close to the light – yet

We love and love
Bound for heartache
In a blood-hope of loss
In spite of our delicate selves


© K. James Ribble


sallow blanket of night lies
swift across the clear ring of dusk
as black nocturne of fate
consumes my way – I watch

a forlorn mountain blue
enmesh all cause of yearn like
the windsong of oak-crease weighs
pale the blight of my homecoming –

naiadhaze vision of you
separates like sorrows,
denounces the freighted flight
of this pasture’s drops of dew

bringing thrush and willow
above the auburn rush of light
signs you’re within my reach
the slay of your lips

known already to the
moon’s sleepless melody
sings me the evening’s song
of love’s crescent desires


© K. James Ribble


Summer sits on my
tongue in the
leisure of light

slips through an open
door re-minding me
above the geometry

of our love’s iterations,
in this motion
of ephemera that

you carry me toward
the night, release me,
form around me as I

bestow nothing, only
in the moment of you
– now weightless-

suspended by silken
dreams in a central-self
of my own divergence

discovered in tangents
of their own intercourse
and resolution as

quotidian sun and moon
contemplate shorter
days approaching

in the lonely
glance of autumn.


© K. James Ribble

No Limits

These were the words taken
From the root my mouth, like a shoreline
Breaks across the threshold of silence
Where I only heard your moments

Of trusting

That trust came to me in an honesty I longed
To proffer – that feeling like sighting cliff swallows in
The sun, their fallen streaks of light just bright
Before their time expires in the warming wind

Of trusting

Like the ocean air as strophic, its rhythm filling the
Spindle of every breath you’ve given, where
Honesty is the only vantage point in time, lost
To the epicenter of your view – if only there were time

Of trusting

I’d clear the ossuary of this moment to
The bone of seconds freeing the deepest love
You promised to yourself upon every sense
You’ve never experienced -before the limits-

Where there would be no limits of trusting.


© K. James Ribble – for @aftersalt

My Own Design

I collide with my ancestors
Manifest mission of lest I forget,
Preach the pinnacle of loss-
Abandon without hope of recline

Thus I decline precision based
Solely on being privy to all positions
Decipher the cost of violence
But prosper, become limitless

The vastness of this remote
Notion I see as motion-of-Heart;
Venturing north I cross into
The River of my own design.


© K. James Ribble



love I see
so profound

prepare every
fibre of this body

for you

a castle of light
divine and lasting

to you, your

flower of sighs
breath of parfume

incessant desire
to be one

with you.



where is the point in
time where I begin

and end with you?

How will I know?
Will there be a sign?

I’ve been letting it go
just letting the day unfold

full awareness Immersed
in the lost summer sun

portions of light, of
timelessness and recollection.


Evening’s final thrush
of flourish

in cameo and
amber-pink of dusk

Surrounds me in
the dust of stillness

lays in fields
of my own repose

Calm, the quiet rush
Of evening’s bone.


© K. James Ribble

A Call

announcing gold
Beyond the bullion of an

There lies within the tale
Of the river
Casting its own light

Touching each moment
Of her skin in
The pale green waters,

Every scent of summer
Billowing across the
Temerity of time

Its swim song a bluster
In its wake ensnaring
Her patience like

All my senses ar’rest
In the flowing canticle
Of shadow and grace.


© K. James Ribble


Something conspires to read me
Secondstreched over the

Nomenclature of time where
Minutes find me sitting upon a

Liturgy of failed pardons, the
Scant of Excess relinquished

To lostridden threads of dreams
Like a caress to the softest of lips

These lips of freedom
Have been kissed

Yet after all these years of journey
Decades past in self-discovery

I feel no closer to the answers
Than when I was at the very start …

And that’s okay –
That’s OK.


© K. James Ribble