Skylight

Your face has moon in its glow,
and I know you are dreaming
by the way your eyes are wide
and focused on some unseen star.

Your breath is like disaster,
but your lips tell me to stay.
I taste shooting stars in them,
and with the way you keep
them under your teeth,
I know you like the taste too.

You are Father Night sky
and your untold daydream thoughts
are the answers we were looking for.
When people ask what life means,
I tell them to look for the moon.


©Jordyn Rhorer 2009

Dive

I want to dive deep into the voice of poem,
into the black and thick water like molasses,
like blood in the moonlight. I want to sink

below the surface and suck in thick,
metaphor sky, fill my lungs and drown
in starlight liquor.

I want to breathe poem-air and taste
the raspberry center of the 80% cacao.
I want to run into the brick wall of stanza,

swallow my teeth and be flattened,
like graffiti on its surface.


©Jordyn Rhorer 2009

Morsure (Bitten)

A French horror short film. Excellent, in my opinion.

Samson Went Back to Bed, Not Much Hair Left On His Head

I think it's funny that in the
summer time we write about winter
and in the winter, spring is only a dream.
Though sunlight surges around us
we long for the taste of snow,
the wind on our cheeks.

I've been thinking a lot about the story of Samson and Delilah. I don't know why it intrigues me in the way it does, but I just can't get it out of my mind. Samson made a promise to God that he would never cut his hair. In return, God made Samson strong and powerful. He sent Samson as a Judge to the Israelites to free them from slavery...and Samson didn't exactly follow God's call to a T. He did liberate the people, defeated their offenders, but married outside of his people. Delilah was her name. She cut off Samson's hair in the night, after finding out his secret. He was then captured, weak and without the gift God had given him. This is a man who split a lion in two with his bare hands. This was a man who killed hundreds of men with a "fresh" jaw of a donkey. Suddenly he was weak and vulnerable. He was made to work in a mill for several years, pushing the grinder like an animal.

But the part that facinates me....is that his hair grew back. His hair grew back and his covenent with God grew back and God saw him in favor once more.

A God can be so forgiving?

Unfathomable.

And, this time...I don't say that from a glorifying standpoint. I don't say it as a proclimation to make my reader feel that I have the faith I don't. I say it from the standpoint of a broken, lonely individual. This year has left us battered and bruised. I feel blind to the ways of God. But as sure as the sun rose that day, when Samson pulled the pillars of the pagan temple down with only the arms he was given, God was with him.

God, are you with me?

I sure hope so. I don't think I can do this alone.

The War

An army of white horses

ride on the horizon.

Like a ribbon of

cloud and flame,

consuming the world

in smoldering mouths.

Yahweh.

Their voices

drown the lands

with exaltation

and every knee

is knelt and waiting.

Yahweh.

Sunken in the ashes

of life built by man

the world waits

aside the great beast

jaws tight against

his enflamed reigns,

roaring with tremulous fury.

Yahweh.

Today the birds will feast

under the hoofs of

the Great Commander,

on the flesh left behind.

Today the light will

come into the shadow.

Today, the dark

will be obliterated.

Yahweh.

--
~jack