waiting for day

under darkness

the earth moving

like the first night

longing hours dissolve



for day.






Your Morning Is My Night Sky


Not sure how this works anymore

Now that your morning is my night sky

Now that your distance is a mirage of my heart.


I lie awake between the inhale and exhale of my life,

A flickering fire-pit on the edge of an ocean cliff,

A flame in a dark desert burning bright,

Feeling the meta-cognitive space between us,

A fluid river motion, an ocean current flowing slowly,

Watching a pale paper moon rising

Under a canopy of glittering stars,

And when I dream,

I dream of the morning reflected in your eyes,

A golden, soft stillness over a cup of coffee,

Fragments of light on your skin,

Filtering through leaves of an ancient Oak,

Southern moss-draped limbs of antiquity

Welcoming you home.

Burgeoning Heart





Take this heart,

This burgeoning ache,

This swollen phobia

Of social stigma,

A morsel of sorrow,

A fragment of body,

Broken bread to be eaten,

Slowly, steadily,

like oil spreading

Its rainbow dulled by dust,

Still throbbing and beating

And breathing in frayed sunlight,

Ready for your scalpel

Of words,

Dissecting, devouring,

Consuming, releasing me

Piece by piece,

in waves.


Karen K L Espaniola,  Aug. 16, 2013





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