Writing

Atonement

kikirosner

the lies we tell ourselves

Convince ourselves of

the white linings

we fabricate,

just a bit longer

Just until I reach This point…

like cards perpetually

Collapsing

Reassembled

for dear life

*

until one day

that flash of Transparency

in a heartbeat

*

the light Strengthens

consenting focus

the cards are gone

the linings

the lies are what they have always been

that Moment of Nudity

That

*

harder as time passes

and all the more Necessary

*

No blame

merely the simple Modesty

of our Tangible reality

*

Photograph by Nick Zungoli

Photograph by Nick Zungoli

Macadam Wolf

kikirosner

 

White with wisps of black

as if touched by my grandfather’s smoke

Tip of you Encircled

the trap didn’t catch you

my snowy roamer,

howling you called me

begging me to closen

I approached carefully

all the while bending to your Height

 

Finally in the kiss of Kinship we Bonded

with the ritual scent searching

and proffering of posteriors

 

Fierce but connected

Social yet independent

you shook my hand and without

drooling nuzzled my cheek,

your great whiteness Abounding

 

a loner missing your pack

you found me, another loner seeking my pack

where Wanderers Unite

Cease Pacing the Earth

in search of their Backyards

from Soul to Soul

I bow to your wild Elegance

silent hero

Champion of the Pack

 

 

Art Work By Yaron Rosner

Art Work By Yaron Rosner

 

Skirting The Moment

kikirosner

I have taken my head apart

allowed you to interfere

with the grace that bubbles

Art Work By Yaron Rosner

Art Work By Yaron Rosner

in my belly such a geyser

I have let your presence

tamper with my inner quiet

and in between

I have brushed my teeth,

I have boiled water

and asked myself when

I’d speak to you,

I have cooked

and cajoled, I have kissed

and been kissed, only

to find myself thinking

of when I would approach

you, reveal myself, show

you the wounding

from and the longing

for, your friendship,

and in between

I have journaled,

washed dishes, knowing

the time must be soon

and will be of my choosing, or not

and then I slept, deeply-

opened the door at dawn

for my cat who tapped my cheek

with its paw, I did not think

of you then, but returned to the warmth

of my bed. I awoke a second time

to my daughter’s request for food

and knew that today would be the moment

I boiled water for tea and coffee, made

French and ordinary toast, slipped

on my clothes and brushed my teeth

brushed my hair and oiled my face,

I drove, wrote, in the knowing

that the moment is in the seizing

the moment is now or not.

 

Transitioning

kikirosner

Those Passages,

when we change planes

or trains, are Redirected

onto other quays, gates

a New Direction

****

This line will take you

only so far,

another will bring

you further

****

Then it is back around again,

back to where you started

this time with new Eyes

a different shading to those lenses

more or less Resolution

A Heart that Leads

****

Unless of course, the Journey

was so distressing

the eyes Shut

the heart hides Deep in the Chest

and only Fear can be gleaned.

****

Railroad SL

Immortalizing Those We Love

kikirosner

In your honor

I tie my sandals,

Wipe the Dust off the table

Open the Window

In your honor

I break twigs

Build fire

Cook the food I like

never settle for Less

never compromise

Always accept what I am given

In your honor

I exercise my limbs

at times strenuously

other times less

but always with Purpose

In your honor

I bow to the power

of what I might not know

Yet stand up

For that which I do Know

In your honor

I grow Lavender

all around your house

 Our house

Watch the Bees buzz

their Worker circuits

Tirelessly,

In your honor

I sit on this Hill

Overlooking your favorite Vista

See you everywhere

I set my Gaze

The Black Mountains in the distance

Where You Once Fought

the Cypress

Where You Now Rest,

the Sunflowers

the Wheat, and finally

the Ever-Giving

Fig

In Your Honor

Borio Blanco Trees

The Tale of Lost and Found Grandparents

kikirosner

Living in their Absence,

is like entering a room

still carrying the Scent

of a person no longer there,

a Lingering, that never leaves,

I get used to, so think is gone,

the Sensation there is something else,

never the Confirmation

*

Until one day they Emerge,

my Elders

living inside me

shyly or boisterously

the scent intensifies

the lingering becomes immanent

My ancestors appear, nod their heads

smile, then fade;

only a few remain,

ones I can Visualize best,

ones I never knew I had

was not surprised by

*

My Ancestors

the long line of Souls

Crowding at the door

to get a look at me,

their Continuance

*

Duplicata grandparents

Art Work by Yaron Rosner

Of Breath & Bones

kikirosner

I see you from my Distance

Watching those Steadily

Rise, as you have,

Observing them cultivate

Favor, all be it awkwardly,

mistaking  indispensable

Sincerity for

Brawn unwittingly

short-lived

 

Yet you, Continue

Plodding

Clear as to our Condition

Transparent too, as to that

Cellular make up

One which doesn’t Linger

One which doesn’t wait

 

you Smile at the Hubris

of young muscle

(your giving heart

has witnessed

so many)

 

Will they persevere

Upon hitting the Wall

of Time?

Will they, as you do

learn to Harness

Inner Strength?

Summon Might

Learn Beauty,

Power,

All Present

in the Adversity

of an Ageing body?

 

Or will they Break

Retire, knees and hips buckling

As they decline to Bend

to the Inner Sanctum

of Breath and Bones?

 

Art Work by Yaron Rosner

Art Work by Yaron Rosner

 

Stepping into the History of my Condition

kikirosner

I watch a backdrop of raging flames

bundles of crackling faggots

the Thunderous wind generated

by the Heat of eight million women

rising in great Billowing black clouds

*

Distant wails for the mother, sister, wife,

and a Hardening

of the spirit in those who Survive

*

A Deadened silence creeps before the roaring fire

only to Release from its fumes single women

distinguishing themselves in a New world

fabricated by men. The lonely individuals

become many, until I see my own Grandmothers

walking towards me, one upheld by the Steel

of her Choices, the other crippled by hers.

From the Ashes of their Ancestors, the painstakingly

slow but necessary demand for Repairs.

*

Stepping into the history of my condition

I step into the Sacrifice made by millions

of Women for their descendants,

from the Wreckage, the Burgeoning

of ancient wisdom put to Sleep for centuries,

kissed long enough, it Awakens,

stretches its limbs and with deepened

but ready Eyes, meets the carrier

of its Continuance.

Fire

Autumn Light

kikirosner

The AfterGlow

of Summer’s

Blinding Brilliance

When we Rise

with Golden Luminosity

Rest

in Reddish Radiance

*

The Color of  Leaves Transforming

*

Summer’s Intelligence

in the Fall

 Becomes Perception,

Mindfulness

in the Winter

*

Gradations of Light

The Sun’s Distance

From Glare to Luster

 what can be Seen

to what must be

Understood

the Scope

of our Lives

*

Photograph by Nick Zungoli

Photograph by Nick Zungoli

Rumors

kikirosner

Like Water

seeping into the Ground

Unhindered,

running along Rootlets

such dirtbound dendrites

dangling off Roots

into deeper Depths

spreading

fast and insidiously

Penetrating

Far down in the Earth

reaching Aquifers

large Underground Lakes

Porously Joined

connecting Tributary Streams

And their Mighty Rivers

Such massive Arteries

Across land

Like Flesh

Reaching at Length

that greater expanse

the Ocean

 

Rumors, once moving amongst

Us like Water,

Now, “likes” Fastening us each to

each, by Hand, Finger

and cyber Scrolls

2014-08-20-Yaron's roots_2_2