Morning Movement

The howlet was early to bed this morn

His flight slow, weighted by full belly 

Autumn rust nearly disguised the copper flint spark of the fox

Picking up pace on sidewalk stretch of a quiet street

Where spectral haze lingered quietly

As dreams slowly took leave from dimly lit portals

Intermingling and dissolving within the crow’s solo caw 

E.A. O'Connell

Button Lost

Jade orb, lost amidst the morning shuffle, drowned in the days old puddle

Debris floating past your spying camera obscura lens, exit wounds in the reflecting sky

Cerulean diffusing film and silver dusted chemtrails to block out the burning white light

That would surely give away your sunken duck and cover

What does my world look like from your outside point of view?

Do you read the stories staining my fingers as I skip your depths?

Have they a new shape through the wind rippled slick?

A scaly prism trick of the eye, you become a momentary amber whip of skeletal fin

Unseen in your murky bed by pedestrian peripheral views

The short to live pooling eye of the world spying life along their true direction pass

And under the weight of the repetitive accelerating pressure you crack

A web frayed, blood shot eye nothing more than a milky resin button

Longing for a severed thread flaw, it’s predestined companion fabric 

E.A. O'Connell

City Dawning

Brown sparrows in their simple linen frocks

Darling adornments to the espalier apples

Orchard of city brick walls and cobblestone narrows

Fruit of earth’s belly a warming sight in the dawn frosted dew

A melody of life on the move in wings and bird songs

Capturing dreams on the rise in wisps of breaths exhaled   

E.A. O'Connell

Lunar Guardian

Amongst the trees she’s proffered safety in sheer shadow film that she wraps around her hands

Allowing her to lean into and spin through the silence

Fluid

She sweeps the air in premonition spinning threads

Thickening water she’ll use to extinguish the flames her hair whips into frenzy against the summer dry grasses   

Sapphire landscape fanning out in full peacock preen with shimmering emerald aura song

Hold her hand in pirouette upon planetary rings

As knotted amber eyes winking wise and wild witness the bloom of paradise from her shoulder blades

White petals and succulent leaves

That free her for the silver slick steal of a kiss from the water polished silhouette of the one ruling her sky

E.A. O'Connell

The Art of OrigaME

I laid the blanket on the hard earth and put my hood up.  It was summer, and foreign to my flesh was feeling a frost creep within my system after a sweat drenched day of hiking, but a heated season is no match for the mountain chill, dead set on proving her force no matter what God or entity stands up to her.  She had won the unforeseen war waged against my tolerance for the cold.  My back flat to the pebbled ground, I looked to the deep set black sky, rich in texture and exploding with millions of stars and the meteor shower that stole each one of my breaths.  I had never allowed myself the opportunity to dream I’d be able to know the sky on such an intimate level; my arms stretched out, my fingers became tools for designing patterns to frame my vision, my hands stacked like telescope, one single fingertip tracing constellations to memory.  I swear the stars were prismatic in shifting colors, winking secrets at me, and flirting at the idea of knowing mine.  So I unleashed soul thought to soul heights.  I felt so small and insignificant in that beauty, and I acknowledged how something so vast could easily steal and swallow me, and I felt a twinge of fear that vulnerable me, with no armor but my hoodie, could fall victim to gravitational pull, the entire Universe falling upon me, crushing me into dust that would settle in the dirt and that which became airborne, captured within the ascension of sky back upon her pedestal.  I confessed to that Mother Sky that I hated the shield I wore as often as I could, and how I wanted to know freedom as wide as she.  Her silence was security, so shed the shield I did, and as it fell to the ground and my flesh felt cactus sting of cold, I lit my words and sang them to her in the language of shapes, formed in my body’s dance.  I was liberated and would come down from that mountain an enLIGHTened being.  I felt like the unseen hands of night had unfolded me and reshaped me numerous times in mere hours….the art of origaME. 

E.A. O'Connell

Summer Thoughts: Colorado

Canoe skimmed the still

Reflecting the rock walls

That captured my breathing

And echoed it back to me

In lyrical tunes I hadn’t heard before

And haven’t known since

This was serenity

Letting nature guide me

Slowly gliding along

Past woody expanses

Aspens and evergreens

Rising from pine needle carpet

Padded paws rushing

Beneath coyote calls

Singing Sunday evening vespers

To Mother Nature’s wonder

As sun set to the bullfrogs

Lily pad love songs

And fish nipped the lake surface

Ringing gentle ripples

That I leant into

Pushing back the idea of time

Closing my eyes

Rejoicing in the symphony of life

Knowing the true meaning of fortune

E.A. O'Connell

Dream Series: II

She fears not the sun silenced oblivion extinguished in retreat for an unbalanced nature

Shrouding darkness over worlds inhabited by slow plummeting illusions 

Colossal feet of godlike monsters kick up dust on abandoned rails

Gnashing teeth on skeletal dreams and growling in a rummage of dead shed letters

Seeking land where night hones words on atmospheric whetstone

A precision so finite she slow hemorrhages laughter from a gut spilling ladder knit vines

Climb and stare the blue pang of know until you meet the image branded in the back of her 

eyes

E. A. O'Connell

Dream Series: I

Trees weep prismatic thoughts of sleep

New life green turn inwards curling safely towards mother's strength

Nuclear sky billows and settles slow churning upheaval

Distance grows few through hazy mind's window view

Stepping into the switches lashing my exposed flesh raw

I face the tyrant twisting wrath of Hell's touchdown

My warrior grin meeting its nonplussed shape shifting eye

A voice speaks in registers unrecognizable, but the laughter breaks through

And a smile through conscious eye stirs a burn in the cold liquor of my stomach

I have no need to wage internal war with the one I see break through the storm

I feel the ease in every fiber of my being screaming consume me



E.A. O'Connell

Purpose of Breathing

Hover in the thin slip of words unspoken

Fingers to succulent lips, rich like summer peach, one bite and the sweet will flow

Hover in the celestial body nearly touched

Hands wandering the radiated heat above the milky silk flesh

Soft touch feels the vibration, summer breeze through streams of sunlight

Waves of want sway free of thought like linen on the line in the pull of approaching storm

Inhale exhale, the rhythm fused in that hover is the tome scrolled on every living, dying, 

regenerating cell

There’s more purpose to breathing than supporting seasonal flow, earthly rights 

I don't breathe for proof of existence, I breathe to feel you run through my soul

E.A. O'Connell

She Meets Her Faith

Toes swirling nature’s language in the sueded dust of the ledge

Her arms raising in noble song of the sun’s rays

Fingers luring the light to her palms in waves of welcome

All color receding and bowing to the starbright radiance

As willing body is lassoed, lifted in the sun’s ever extending embrace

Floating and rising in a corkscrew spin, freeing, freed from the earth green urn

Closer to understanding, closer still to infinite, she smiles, tears glinting in the all consuming light

Warmth and life, she meets her faith in a brilliant rush, the cosmos colliding

Astral embers spark and shower in slow descent

Her toes speaking universal language in rejoining with earth

E.A. O'Connell