off the glass tabletop : an angel flew

after the quick shower

droplets of fresh water drape

the skeletal remains of a coral leaf

span a dainty membrane over 

a charred angel's wing, dead 

tossed out of the sea (its element)

yet bonding with the likes of it

as nothing else on earth

bones and water dance 

in light, effortless

pause pulse glisten

as silver spills upon this barren

inconceivable sky-desert of glass

white clouds heaven’s dust
birth around the surface

breathe shallow-quick

insatiable air to spring

in flight again :

in the afterlife of a charred

one-wing angel

there is always a first flight

in uncertain times of change

one sure thing : an angel 
will always be an angel

window-shopping XIII [off the wall]

the color of my dreams is yellow
mellifluous sahara-yellow

pallid leaves in these arid fields

twirling lanterns

fierce winds from the east roamed the cobblestone streets the other night
looming the finest of sand in an exquisite tapestry. felt like crossing a town
in the middle of the desert. wordless pilgrims / you and i / time [a]bound.
the lanterns in the nearby tree flickering and twirling to the howling calls
from distant galaxies. scattered now in the dust. sparkling at my feet.

then it rained for an entire week in a day.
washed the sand and your footsteps away.


"i am a universe in a handful of dirt, / whole when totally demolished." - rumi

taking off, the art

is it so, that waterbirds*

push off the tip of their wing feathers

lift upwards on the echoes of their shadows

amid the ebb and flow of the ocean's breath

until sufficient air is gained underneath

enough to break away from earth

                                                  and gravity?

wonder how birds in the desert do it?

                                                       seems i have forgotten . . .

* double-crested cormorant and great blue heron taking off