St. Cristobal

A new dawn arises.
One in which the sun of old
has red shifted away, has collapsed
and expanded, has swollen and reddened
and burst with every electron and molecule
its life blood, its soul energy, and it has buckled
into a distant, miniscule star white as the grave’s
effervescent tomb.

A new dawn arises.
One in which the dew of old
is not frozen as before; one where pedal
and plant awake to the fresh drops of the sky
sliding to their stems. Dewy dew drops drop catching
the sunlight in their eyes, reflecting the dreams
of old when love and mercy were in unison,
together, living for the stars.

 

“St, Cristobal” is a poem written by Michael Aaron Casares. All rights reserved. “St. Cristobal” was published as an “Epilogue” in the epic poem, The Winter King, published in 2010 by Shadow Archer Press. The Winter King is out of print with no current plans for reprint. 

Triple Leaf

She’s
playing the lotto
again, puffing on
that pipe like peace
is going out of
style.

Indian tribes,
ladies and hippies before
receding hairlines turned
them to businessmen,
knew a thing or two about
connecting the soul,
the spirit energy,
with everything
through
the power
of love.

Standing before the arch
of acceptance, light rays beaming
between sympathy and empathy,
dance around the fire of forgiveness,
discern if it is for herself or others,
she bows her feathered brow
with respect and not a crooked
bone in her body.

Crying as if this state of mind
could never be achieved,
she can’t stop now.
She won’t turn away
or surrender at the next
checkpoint. She’ll roll the
dice and play the game
until they call her number.

 

 

“Triple Leaf” is a poem written by Michael Aaron Casares. All rights reserved. 

Camellia Dawn

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Amber tufts cotton
Carnation hearth majestic
Fired light distant gold

 

Warm Ember Horizon
Photography
by Michael Aaron Casares

“Camelia Dawin” is an ekphrastic haiku poem written by Michael Aaron Casares. “Warm Ember Horizon” is a photograph taken by Michael Aaron Casares. All rights reserved. 

Why 1979?

Four years before I was born I saw you;
you were recalling something about a broken leg.
We were at a zoo. I saw us a on T.V. screen,
running through a stone maze,
me behind you and you waving your arms, both
of us in a hurry, saying something silly, though the truth
is we were afraid the lions would get us. A strange zoo
with the dens of giant cats perched above the embankment
of stone walls, no barrier to keep them away, at their prey
they hurtled down the rock hill and crag.

And then I was lying next to you,
my arm around you like we used to sleep
half kissing, half biting your smiling cheek,
your grin pinching the flesh of your eye
between the brow. And it was 1979,
four years before I was born and then it was
2001 and I had only just met you,
and terrified, I failed to defend
you when mugged on the streets.
Shattered black space, and a fizzle of stars,
I don’t remember the pain my broken nose
brought, I didn’t know the blood was gushing,
but a mad eye on the punk, clenched teeth at the thug,
serpent skin fleshed in crackling feigned anger.
I missed his fist as it went for your face,
cracked your teeth, crooked your jaw.

Now it’s 2010 and my arm is wrapped around air
as morning stirs awake. No blanket, no pillow, just your ghost
solid in my mind and I embrace, warm and close, present
like a fact of history, laying like lovers discovered in each other’s
arms. A warm memory resonant, a sunbeam curtailed
and furloughed like a warm spoon against my body,
fetal hearth, emanating like a bed of coals shimmers
with glistening embers dancing in the haze. My
heart sinks into the magma, burns magenta
to neon carnation, electrifies plasma,
swells light, muffles blood hues to open eyes
and lulls them to sleep, lulls in the comfort
of dismemberment, in gradual change,
in separation anxiety  that brings me back.
1979 was the last time I saw you.
We were young then, as we are now,
trying to finish what we’d begun,
but everything’s fucked up
this time around.

 

“Why 1979?” is a poem written by Michael Aaron Casares. All rights reserved.

Coming Soon 
by Michael Aaron Casares

VanishingPoet-CoverFront MD

 

The Vanishing Poet a new collection of poetry by Michael Aaron Casares.