Tonight Your Voice

your voice

tonight is not my muse.

music -  be silent.

leaves -  rustle tomorrow.

wind -  gather yourself.

rain -  fall silent.

daylight -  surrender: 

we're captive to

seasonal toil, 

its violent beauty.

our voices recall

staccato banter,

bundled in autumn.

I'll listen another night, 

when darkness stills 

and I am restless, too.  

Photo/Poem © 2014 Rick Burnett Baker 

Love, The Fast Lane

speed dating

a strategic plan is antithesis 

               to first hellos. 

negotiate position.

               measure angles.  

edit emotions;  

               proof read.  

carry intellect to the 

               table. 

who will be first to 

               offer grace? 

Photo/Poem © 2014 Rick Burnett Baker

Old Friends and Crickets

old friends and crickets

old friends and crickets chirp 
of 'these days' and how quickly
dusk is falling. roses die
till they bud again: cycle,

recycle, soak revolving hours
in daylight and season. pack
away nonchalance. my neck
is chilled. I bundle up my collar.

evening measures distance
between memory and now.
do you notice the color of
the rose's fading hue?

Photo/Poem © 2014 Rick Burnett Baker 

1/2 A Bubble Off

the art of body politic 

if you measured with a level it was half a bubble off,

leaning left, like so many youth and old atheists do;

paintings must be straight to be pleasing to the eye.  

my reasoned hands grasp both left and right sides of the

frame and eyeball the position.  everyone eyeballs 

positions, perceptions dependent on tilt and angle. 

gallery light definition casts shadows downward.  

enlightenment must be in each scene's history.  focal

points are framed for reasons:  prayers to be answered.

Photo/Poem © 2014 Rick Burnett Baker

Boiler Room

                               Click on image to embiggen:

                                   9 to 5 at midnight

                                   voices are dancing 
                                   with incomplete darkness,
                                   waiting for the grind
                                   to complete itself.

Photo/Poem © 2014 Rick Burnett Baker 

Dreamworld

REM / NREM

nestle a
blanket
cocoon

ear to
pillow dreams

believe
you're real

they - they
stare blankly

it's not
their fault
but yours:

your vision
otherwise.

Photo/Poem © 2014 Rick Burnett Baker

Architecture Of Love

I can't spell rhythm

architecture is your body folded into mine,
each scale of skin synchronized unseen;
nature's elements cold and hot to the touch;
apparent beauty our state of mind, entangled.

a song scatters in the distance. we love,
and love abstract. I can't spell rhythm. I
taste it, though, and steal away your lyric.
some hear the wind, others the grand scheme.

Photos/Poem © 2014 Rick Burnett Baker