We walked for blocks
and talked through my fears.
The fear was a football
in my throat that went flying
as we held each —
Through the trees it climbed
to become the moon with a kiss.
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Author Archives: Carlos Phelps
Love Flight
October 11, 2009 – 12:01 am
I woke up
before the sun.
But I was not the first;
my brother saw to that.
Our clothes
in the closet stared at us.
In the distance a man
and women yelled.
Muffled by the door
we couldn’t tell who it was.
But it didn’t matter
because we knew.
I’m grown now
and married over twenty years.
Still I remember
those sleepless nights.
We would wake up
before the sun.
But we [...]
By The Tree
September 27, 2009 – 12:01 am
A cool breeze leads
a dancing pattern,
and wreckage is free
where ants work the bark.
Robins sing
of playful work,
and black birds parade
contrasting duos.
Dawn Words
September 13, 2009 – 12:01 am
Dawn is near as I park in front
the blinking meter on Eleven Street.
The city is waking and the birds lead
as I cross the street to the coffee house.
At five thirty AM the lock clicks
and the brew pulls me to the counter.
With cup in hand I lay a notebook
on the round table to collect my words.
The Acorn to the Tree
August 30, 2009 – 12:01 am
A year has passed
since that day we began.
We were not friends,
but lovers we were as we danced
in the wind like two unknowns.
Twenty-five days
have passed since the end.
I have fallen away
and find myself lost in the grass.
The sun burns my mind.
Since that day
I long for you,
but you go on reaching higher.
I feel myself growing weak
for I [...]
Introductions
August 16, 2009 – 12:01 am
Head leaning down and my eyes closed
The cool wind blows in through the window.
Music playing and images of last night rush by
shifting speed with the temperature of my forehead.
Once in a while something slips in between
the words, images, and music exploding within my brain.
An old friend comes to me from the radio
taking me back to [...]
Run Away
August 2, 2009 – 12:01 am
I see an image —
is it he?
A young face,
the glare of lights,
and the smell of bottle brush
move with the wind
along the highway.
He is but a drop
in the Milky Way
buried in the cup of his hands
to chase away their nudity.
What has he solved
as he blows that prayer?
Reality Kills the Music Video Star
July 19, 2009 – 12:01 am
The windows were down
and a wind stirs the fabric
as he sips the dry wine.
On the table lays a photograph
long forgotten and faded.
He leans the seat back
to rest his eyes and remembers
the music played and images flashed
on that hot summer night.
On the table next to the photograph
lays those words in a letter.
What was that song playing [...]
Diamond Point
July 12, 2009 – 3:00 pm
Sails line the coast
and the sun reflects
off silver on the table
as I pour my Dos Equis.
The wind flirts
with triangle white
and the waitress’ dress
as Spanish music plays.
Cars arouse the window
with a lively flow
as the waitress
brings my lunch.
Fabric stirs, ice glistens,
the captain’s eye bubble —
I see their brown luster
and wish I could sail.
