I never tire of looking at you in the sun.
Your hair is the color of fire as it ignites in the sunlight.
Its then I feel your warmth on this clear cold sunny day.
To tell you the truth I forgot it was cold for the moment.
You then smile at me and time seems to stand still and run rampant all at once.  
I have been a lonely Winter for so long.
And I welcome her..
She calls herself Spring.
And she slowly melts my heart away.

only your love
burying me in the
tides of autumn,
conjuring lips
and steel,
singing the deep
emotional blue of our hearts.

I'm coming from afar
I tell the woman
the last time I came
I could walk straight to the river
now monsoon mud has made a mess
can only glimpse the river's face
is there still a way on dry feet?

She raises her eyes
no way she says
it's all shrub and slush
but you can have a look at my garden
pomelo and papaya,
gourd and green banana,

I haggle over price
wouldn't settle for less than a bargain

she smiles all the way
succumbs with ease
for the take a bag too she gives.

As I leave her on the falling day
I feel no loss
not finding the river's way.

Took a drive to no where.
Out and about.
It was a early evening in the fall.
And I was not in route.

I took a drive to clear things up.
I thought of 12 stories and one poem.
As the early evening turned into actual evening.
To wherever I may roam.

I took a drive into the night.
Down lonely roads and over a quiet river.
Under the clear Texas night sky.
Where all the stars sing their twilight silver.

Riding on a horse
Fighting with her sword
She is not a *****
She is wearing leather
  
Saving all the poor
Fighting with a sword
Giants in the land
And the mighty dragons
  
Xena is my queen
But they call her princess
All she want to do
Go around and conquer
  
She can conquer me
Anytime she wants to
That is all I say
'bout the mighty princess
Xena is her name
Do you know her address

Its all that shimmers..
Such an astounding race..
Amazing its what truly shapes the universe.
Cannot be created, cannot be copied..
What these beings have is a gift of divinity..
And the most beautiful part in it all is that they truly do not know themselves that a God does or does not exist.
They just choose to believe without knowing..
Their emotions are what drives us to be better than what we are..
For one day I truly want to experience love..
Its all that shimmers..

Do you remember the night
I translated a dream for you?

You agreed and later that night
we began to put your pain into perspective

You're sending me letters
signed, sealed and delivered
from your new home

I'm saving all your letters
where only longing lingers
we've not known each other long
but waves of your scent
are already mapped on my mind

In your stories you write of
an explosion in your chest
bats burst from hibernation
forcing your ribs to break
your skin ripping apart

You tell me of a whistling in your chest
a candles been blown out
smoke rising from a darkened hollow cave

The emptiness feeds off flesh
you're scratching at your skin
the remains tipping into your chest

It's filling-
filling every day

And that is when you wake
choking, gasping for air

Your letters end as abruptly
as your night terrors
bad dreams leaving you breathless
waking up drenched in sweat

Your last lines of this weeks letter read;
When I lift my tired body
from the bed
the bedroom light illuminates
my skin
I see I'm real
I see I've not clawed my flesh
no track marks from my fears

We're sat together with
the letters all telling
the same story, again and again
you voicing your dreams,
dreams spawning nightmares

Do you remember I was going to
translate these dreams for you?

How the bats are actually butterflies
how butterflies are subjected to
a caged darkness before the light
How the whistling in your chest
is fertile ground for growth
How the suffocating filling
is the abundance of love
this world can give us
if,
if we only subject a change
to our perceptions

Love and fear cannot exist
together within us
with fear is suffering
with love is healing.

Do you remember the night
I translated a dream for you?

The night we set fire to the letters
imagining the crimping paper
as the disintegration of
each and every
fear.


© Sia Jane

you were the last
bird of summer

the golds of the
sun melted as you flew

wrapped to an oak-washed
sky, that slowly unravelled

you were my love
and i loved you with every

soft breath of my soul.

i.

the quiet of the meadows
as wildflower listens to the
babbling stream,
stones washed by the silvery
water,
the sun pressing the land into ghosts.

ii.

dusk sags like a balloon
remembers a darkening sky.

iii.

it has grown late,
poetry quivers on the
windowsill,
taps nonchalantly at the door.

iv.

the clouds turn emptiness into dreams
like morning frocks billowing on a line,

the moon walks over
sings of darkness and blue smoke,

the cold starts to sink into
the crevices, conjures its ice
like brittle honeycomb.

v.

tomorrow waits like
a hungry child,
she eats our fingers
and our hands
and we let her
for we can’t bear for her to go hungry
as she carries everything of us
forward with a little push.

Waiting for the sea she sits
writing with her fingertips
setting down herstory on the sand;

waiting, with a wistful eye
watching for the rising tide
wondering if stories can be drowned..

the trees like
iron masts
ships of steel,
the leaves,
whirring and circling,
scattering the shadows of
the dark lanes
with their golden inks.