Morning Observations

The starlings’ chatter sounds through the morning calm in mundane sirens announcing intentions to dig and pluck fruit of the earth.  Oh so visible and loud in their morphing forms, twisting wings and ruffled plumes settling in unison about the dinosaur kale bed, blind to the pleasantries embossed in the reptilian stalks, eyes trained only on grub trails and one track thoughts.   

E.A. O'Connell 

Lyrics of Your Song

Written as lyrics of your song

I will travel sung to the world

If every night you sing me home

E.A. O'Connell

Murder of Crows...

Murder of crows flying low
Circling, diving in angry geometry
Screaming profound pain
At splintered branches
Snagging their feathers
Leaving traces of anice
In burning leaves starward licking
And strict tongued breeze

E.A. O'Connell

Orange Blossom Memories

Orange blossoms trickle through her hair
Catching in memories of summer
As the nearly winter wind presses them to her skin
Warming and awakening a still dreaming passenger

E.A. O'Connell

The Witch Speaks Roots

The witch speaks roots
Fly’s sooted joints
Crawl south of timber
Weeds 
Ragged rock feet
For mosseye view of luna rite
Stitched in daylily hues
In hem of her dress
Lifted up in dust 
And step of her sole
Secret
She sweeps
Star rust and blue jay screams
Into dawn song

E.A. O'Connell

Dream Series: III

My dreams were dark
Black on black
And they whirled like water
Movement slow like prestorm atmosphere
My head dizzy 
Having slipped away in weeks old hunger
Couldn’t decipher if the form
Moving independent of the dream’s nature
Had nightmares hidden beneath its nails
To claw and scratch at my eyes
Or if it was good company to blind my pain
Guiding my fall to the darkest depths of my mind’s night
Perhaps its intentions were a dual purpose
To give me sight and rob my eyes
For upon my waking 
I’d been struck blind

E.A O'Connell