An Ephemera

Ephemeris of Time
Lays on the mountain
Like clouds lay gently
On the shoulders of Aspens

My brothers live here
for generations Far
beyond recorded history
These aEons of Life

In an unknown world
Bringing to bear the
Afterlife of kindness
In light of and Before

such chaos

And yet

As donned the mask
Of mans gold destiny the
Same Floating bergs of ice
These white crystals

Carried me to shore
In their arms the very
Footprints made, left by
Our mention to the sea

The soft spoke whisper
Of ancient deities found
Naked, contentious as
A mirror of human folly

© Thespian Drummer

What Changes at Dusk

How time has culled

morphology beyond confluence

where correlations abound

in dubious choices,

mere happenstance profound in

its articulate randomness yet not

without notice given weight to

sacred idylls of lost lifetimes

the repeated

endlessness of ever-knowing,

ever-reaching into the Light –

© Thespian Drummer / Photo: Ojito Wilderness, NM

While Night Abates

You find it hard to believe

Your spirit is beautiful

Of Hibiscus and spearmint

The headwinds of an

effortless ply of time, a lovely

soul who washes over me

Like rain in August like the

Horizon in Silhouette of

a Romanesque dawn

Like the fingers of spring

in an ambush of nightfall

Calloused in the soft acre

Of its touch, on an awakening

Both Immediate and clear in

mornings canvassed by the

iris mauve of this desert,

Like a shoreline Motioning me

to a whit of flight

A carrier of sunlight in

the soft loss of time —

© K. James Ribble

Inherent Memory

The sky forms its light

in the hemlock blues          

         of a silent rhetoric          

         a phrasing of calm

shaping me in

adjacent longings          

         where I am caught          

         in its nascent facts

in scrolls of wringing

sacred moments borne

          by the glance of your eyes

          forming like a gallica rose

from the garden spark of

inherent memory,

          orbs of carried light

          motioning me to a place

unknown yet known to us

free of this Earth’s marriage

          to loneliness, baled

          in echoes of

its effervescence,

an embayment in blue,

          its ordinate shown

          by the depths of your song

singing in calculations,

the Arc and Flame of you –


© K. James Ribble

bluedusk of August

The memories form, cutting a path

          to an Inner Gate spoken

          from a moth’s mouth – silent

          like ancient myths unfolding within,


like patterns from a

lotus, a kaleidoscope of entropy

where existence lives freely

– for there only be an elevation–

as dreams emerge, clouds of

white, carpeted blue

aerial frequencies serene in the

grasp of nightfall, finding moonlight

in captivity surrounding my heart like

a missive to your smile, unfolding

          now within me,

          contemplating the Point

that counters everything to the rhythm of Time

its velvet presence in

Your eyes reflecting  

Summer in June,

Every color washed bright

By your laughing smile

It is here against this bluedusk of August

in these abundant landscapes, that

          the aperture of appearance

          pours its avowed mastery

of Silence into trust – like doves

ordering a wreak of midnight

          in a confusion of soundlessness,

          void becomes the wind of emotion, mouthed only as carried revelations —

warmed in the coronation of your light.

© K. James Ribble

claiming the balance

Of this I know:

Your tellfire came to me from

            before, when there was

            no now – only being – with

You as an admonition of light

            softly failing,

            claiming the balance

Of your eyes in front of me,

            in wonder of every corner

            of your face, an ever-patient

Mirror of my own making,

            where you and I are quiet

            against the blueblack of dusk

Prefaced by nothing but calm

            in a hibernation of night, fast approaching

© K. James Ribble

a catchphrase of shadow

Sounds of morning

            inside the music of light

            lies an embodiment of

time, its imagery of you

a catchphrase of shadow,

            the project of a Dream

            toward infinite wonder,

Inured by the well-meaning wind –

            so I am lifted towards you in

            a disaffected way, in utter calm

            knowing full-well the value of

Or discovery, our understanding of knowing,

            where topographic pointillism

            regards you as foreground in a

            landscape no one knows about – but you –

An inclusion no one expected, and yet -still- you know.

©  K. James Ribble


In your eyes the eventide above

the moon’s grey somber

etiolates the light

            of Light

the stuttering of wind, capturing them

            in a pallor of sun,

            causing their color (a sanctuary


To reveal your heart in uncounted

            numbers of life and death

            We, no longer afraid,

            no longer refrain where

Voices echo in the long canyons,

            the amulet golds

and Moroccan umbers

Discovering your blush

            in a contemplation of hues,

            befalling all my love for you.


© K. James Ribble


Of all the moments I held you

warm, warmer than the

the sun is bright today,

there lays one in a bisque of waterform

crying where the autumn night is

deep in wonder humming long

as the Dark in fire . . .

This scant yet supple-subtle course

hinges on tomorrow in its

light – the way Now

forms each wonder of kindness

as an underling,

like a child whose preciousness

is far beyond words . . .

In this acknowledgement of wisdom,

we hurl ourselves among the stars

as primitive – yet predate the dawn

not knowing the elements before us

– and yet there is an understanding

in the elegance of peace,

for each one of us

is drenched in the color

of daylight passing


© K. James Ribble