Raw and rumored, ready and real

I saw

a gold feather

in the Grand Canyon

floating down

toward the invisible river

for the last time.

…

And I was

seeing

the gold shadow of your

long eye lashes

hiding your eyes

near the blue-glowing parking lot,

the wolf’s song

as it bounced

back again – I knew

your heart’s fair dream

was not gone

yet…

…

I was born

with this here

very long

and beautiful

heart in hand,

and hair, here,

dear, she said…

…

And so we are on

a magic carpet ride

ever lifting, lifting, and falling,

falling together

on our blanket

by the blues sea

under dark blue trees.

…

That summer, she said,

we lived in a mansion

on top of the green, free

hill;

it was the summer your

hair hid the sides of both of

your eyes that were

staring down so lost and

brokenhearted.

…

Birth is in the hand, she

said.

The castle and cloud moats

are mixed

with the spreading sky

mountains here

in this misty evening

valley land…

…

This fiery little red

dress comes straight

from Caledonia

all the way down, said she, who

was you.

…

Some day, she said,

in the field, so low and lone, but

up, and away over the hill,

over there,

we’ll go roving again.

…

And afterward

you and me we

did lie together then

softly a long time

in rumbling thunder

in the dream.

…

Your hair falls like water

around your blue tears,

Green Eyes.

Your blue tears

are my heartless

torn glacial seashore

weeping.

…

Unheard, still laughing…

unmake my hand

for this

last dance.

…

This is what you get instead.

Poetry and Pictures by Dale William Barrigar (and a shout out for the ever groomed Colonel)