Jack Ricchiuto | Poetry

cigar ashes borne on autumn winds 
ashes of loves
ashes of bonfires blazing
from this seasons harvests
remnant stories
returning to mother earth
ashes to ashes
into their next reincarnation
into their next recantation
songs syncopated by drums
stretched onto sketched skins
old skins oiled into new skins
tears wept, fears swept
awaiting new roots
blossom into new blooms
newt of frogs swooning crickets
into dreams drempt
by naked buddhas
dancing into our smiles

we tangle and wrangle,
nothing good enough,

falling short
falling in and out 
we fall exhausted
into each other’s arms 

let’s leave the fight
to another sunset 
let’s turn swords
to plowshares, 

melt the angry gods
into sacred crucibles,
let's postpone pain
to next year,

for tonight, we surf
waves of easy being

she dreams at the top of the mountain out of sight,
dreaming in the minds of the lamas and the gurus,
beyond the din of flesh wrestling to be angels

her spirit flames bright into the night
darkness steps aside for her soul to soar

her dreams wave the oceans her songs give voice
to the youth seeking what their tribe has no words for,
and the gurus beyond the din of flesh wresting to be angels

swirling spirals

dervish dances

kaleidoscope eyes

tatooed arias

operatic acrobats

secrets untwined

wild ginger unfurled

girls weeping lizard tears

unbuttoned fears

reckless cares

dares stretched

in yoga gestures

storied spores

caressed in warm winds

mysteries glimpsed

witches brews

frenetic hues

puzzle cues

lover sighs

makeshift spires

obtuse swarms

welcome intrusions

socratic extrusions

sporadic illusions

magnanimous syntax

of language revived

savor the honeysuckle
in easy embrace of the moon

savor the sage burning bright
in chase of shadows 

savor the silence of empty nests
grateful for young eagles in flight

savor the hives dripping with dreams
of the morning's sun

savor the evening lake rippling
to the egret's long gaze

savor the contours of hands
melting eternity into infinity

unmasking cliches,
i will not speak
of pedestrian jolts
to the shins
nor of love lurid
or tucked away
in virgin hems

i will refuse
the ears
of impotent
redundancies,
i will eschew
the idolatries of
doilied rhymes

i will eviscerate
sentimentalities
on the knife
of tongues that
dare to horrify
the complacency
of retired poets