vertical horizon days

moab ascent

riding in those vertical horizon days

came near to wreck our Jeep

with their sliprock seat pucker cliffs

like “fly-on-the-wall” …”again and again”

hold on…okay, now gun it

Oh Christ…that’s why it’s “metal masher”

adrenaline wash fear…gas pedal brake

follow that line kamikaze guy took up “widow maker”

rock-rail graze that bolder

scrape sparks across the pan

breathe over heartbeats

at the edge of earth

About Angelica Anne


About Angelica Anne

Careful now…she’s fragile.
Give her no cause for fear.
A voice too loud will startle her
…too hushed, and you’re a blur.
Offer her soft…warm cookies.
Place a length of satin ribbon
…in her quiet hands.
Set a vase of lilacs where the sun
…will find their scent.
Careful now…she’s fragile.
Don’t frighten her to death.

Bonnie Marshall
from March,2013

Art by Frank Rozasy

Remembering Fever Trees


She followed a decoction ritual…
steeped Assam’s potent chai leaves
with cardamom, peppercorn and cloves,
and honeyed milk in an earthen pot,
‘til she caffeine drifted…lulled
to remembered images of Africa and India
though she had never lived there
where cobras lapped saucered milk
on verandas framed with fever trees.

Her childhood fever had been real…
had extended into months
of icy compress…twisted sheets
and sorted consciousness
with white and yellow pills
slipping down the hurt…
until the real escape
when Rudyard Kipling entered
transported in a book
carried to her by her father
to divert her pain with stories
and words so powerful
that they drugged her senses
and inoculated care.

Bonnie Marshall

“The Elephant’s Child” by Rudyard Kipling:  A Reading Just For Fun from Bonnie

“Words are, of course, the most powerful drug used by mankind.”
Rudyard Kipling

Art by Andrea Clare

To Find Perspective

van gogh perspective frame

I knew all was readiness…
my palette daubed
with slight toxins…malachite
for glass green waves
below zinc white’s smother foam…
a bead of lapis lazuli,
all primed for sable brushes
there rowed upon my easel.
I knew all was centeredness,
my thumb and fingers balancing
the board against my forearm,
my axis perpendicular
to silhouette the shore.
And yet I lacked perspective.
I knew van Gogh had used a frame…
a strong wood perspective frame
with diagonal perpendicular horizontal wire
to line orient his vision.
And I estimated distance
of sailboats…on far deep water…
with gray storm clouds brewing
and craved his guidance source.

Bonnie Marshall


imagesCAGQ2JCB cycle

He leans his motorcycle
through cooling drifts of fog
where mountain ridges
stretch purple navy gray
beneath a growing brightness
of hazy blue horizon.
Forest breaks of sunlight
steam black pavement
as snarling thrums
of the cycle’s motor
off rough layered cliffs
of Appalachian rock.
Then with his ascension
to crests…a narrow ridge…
cliffs and forest slip away
he blends to integration
of space and speed and presence…
immediate perception
of his otherness.
Bonnie Marshall