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

Silent Magic

09-08-18_SFE_Dawn 5am

There’s something like silence
in a cobweb of magic
hailing me from the subtle
coasts of a blithe awareness
slow and distant in its crafting,
a conflation bearing the tender
thunder of golds in a night’s rising
sun where the black inks of my
horizon sits below the sliver
of Chalcedon’s crescent moon
rising, dawn chasing the night
now in earnest in the anise light
of daybreak folded across the
expanse of my own determination –
this is where love lives in its
infinite decision, a dedication
to where I stand wandering in
these lands awash in the
agate-red clouds and amber
whites of my own emergence,
crisp as the desert air I breathe

 

© K. James Ribble

 

Writing Prompt:  silent magic

Breath Clasped

If I could kiss every strand
of your starless-night hair,
and every lock and curl that
exists upon your perfect frame

I would find my breath clasped
between the rhythms your heart beats,
exchanged of air in waters from the
sacred lakes and fires of your soul –

And as I cross the settled rivers of your
soil, across the endless acreage of our life’s
land, you become my journey to a discovery:
that the rules of breathing captivate my

soul on the coastal sands of your gaze,
the portered bronze and marbled phrases
of your eyes in colors I cannot explain
seized in the twilight of a night’s single star

 

©K. James Ribble

 

Writing Prompt: the rules of breathing