songs ease

songs ease

you tortoise-shell harps
you reeds turned into flutes
you leopard skin drums
you copper pots upended into bells
make music in the now
‘till we forget eternity
where no songs ease us
to transcendent sleep

Bonnie Marshall

Shapeshifting

Eyvind Earle

Shapeshifting

She watched…
white light spindles
appear in darkness
then shape to spheres
trailing luminescence
across Texas range.

She watched…
a crystal palace waver
on a shoreline edged in forest,
illusions…Fata Morgana
along a Sicilian coast.

She watched…
Yellowstone tule fog
erase pine tree sameness
around her nighttime fire
where wood sounds cottoned into silence
as she shifted to the shape of dreams.

Bonnie Marshall

On the Cusp

On the Cusp

Deep…deep beneath Dad’s land
and still cooling from beginnings,
tectonic plates expand…subduct…
slip slide with incremental tension,
slight tremors on a Richter scale…
yet not enough for red ants
in his woods beyond the barn
to swarm out from their mounds,
nor for his canary in the kitchen
to bash its feathered body
against the metal cage.
He knows those warnings
to move horses from the stable.

Lately, we’ve all noticed
he doesn’t pay much mind
to TV news and such…
only reads the local paper
and books from the living room…
like the Bible and Farmer’s Almanac
and plays here and there by Shakespeare.
He spends more time out on the porch,
and senses weather changes
even before the metal rooster
on the old barn arcs from east to west,
and notes balances tipping
like horizon sun flash…on the cusp
just before the set.

Bonnie Marshall

Panache

I sense it in a crowd…
one person set apart…
a certain flair…an arrogance
like once…at a party
I met a laughing woman
who’d pinned fresh fruit
all ’round the crown
of her floppy hat…
red cherries…tokay grapes.
Occasionally she’d pick one
to pop into her mouth…
or toss to others.
I commented. “Unusual.”
“Of course my dear
I’ve worn these every April 10th
for years…well, decades…
to celebrate my lost virginity
doesn’t everyone at some time or another…”

I think of variations on her theme,
…and people who wear hats.
I should wear a hat…a straw one…
…often…in the summer…
one with wide blue ribbons
brimming down the back.
Yet there’s that difference
between panache and being odd..
and being odd… and not caring…
not caring…that’s the catch.

Bonnie Marshall

Third Remove Romance

Third Remove Romance

“Sadie I ♥ u.” :)
“Owen I ♥ u 2.” :)

is expedience…a hug
second remove illusion
of emoticons and symbols
without intensity of gaze
or sincerity of smile.
Other times and places
the lovers Photoshop with apps
with healing tools and healing brushes…
magic wands… magic erasers,
and puppet warp…
for third remove illusion
centuries removed
from cavern walls in Greece
where puppet masters
threw shadows on a wall.

Bonnie Marshall

Photo: Art Arart