EasterRemember what you love,Easter by riparii
you with sand in your teeth
and the feral burn of hunger
in your eyes.
God sends his regrets.
He made you grasping and slow,
in a late hour
when the wine washed low.
Remember what you love.
Fall to your knees in the toss
and the swell, quell
the appetite of the cold black sea.
Beg blessings for your home
and the salt-sick trees.
Reach what lies near:
the fat-faced child, the sweet-soft lamb;
tether the tantrum, trickle the blood.
Offer psalms to what is holy,
whisper the name of what you love
as it bobs in the bleak mad sea.
PrescienceI shall die with words like minnowsPrescience by riparii
still attached to the strings of my heart,
swimming like sperm, jostled and mad,
bearing the prologue of life, the opening bars,
the glorious first drone of the chanter
that moves blood in the way of volcanoes to war,
to explosion, the crepuscular exuberance of dawn,
these minnows attached to the shimmering lines.
But the little darlings get confused in the shadows,
panic when light breaks above the tiny Os of their heads,
while the heart-pole bends
like the long slim fingers of a willow,
down, pointing down to the cress-edged creases
and rocky seams of the cold water shallows
that only the babies of the brook trout know,
beneath the laughing poplar and the somber pine,
where water striders tickle the surface of the quiet pools,
like children tracing raindrops on the glass panes
of a grey-lit room on the longest day of their lives,
I will die like minnows, still attached.
Hunting CoyotesHunting CoyotesHunting Coyotes by riparii
Footfall of a frost-faced hunter
heavy with a winter kind of hope;
one paw raised above the stream.
You thought I would shatter with the sharp bark
of the gun, but moonlight still sparkles
in a spray of wet pearls along my sides.
I am cold teeth, I am the blood-stopping stare.
Between ActsHer new lover had buckets of moneyBetween Acts by riparii
and twenty years more than she,
but her hair was the yellow
of every happy ending,
eyes blue as a January sky.
We sat one night eating cranberry bread
that Nancy had made, crumbly and dry.
She liked it that way she said,
by way of self-defense, and we ate it anyway
because it was something to put in our mouths
that reminded us of things that tasted good
the way dreams remind us
of who we were when we were young.
He bought her Prada shoes, Margaret said,
her fingers twisting in the black fur of her restless dog.
I don't know what to think, it isn't how we live.
Well it's how her daughter lives now, at twenty-two
with her streetlight hair and police car eyes.
We could wear Prada shoes to the grain store
or the Town Hall, we decided,
with our old jeans and our winter coats.
Southern Belle - 7Out of the Sahara,Southern Belle - 7 by vespera
my eye: the tiger
Gleam, you are a blanched lantern
on the Savannah
I was on the prowl
until you came to my domain
Ivory, I shall hunt
and harvest you
Writhe on my belly
until I am close
Listen, Anasazi laughs
his black spider joke;
I laugh as we begin
Bleachingi.Bleaching by vespera
So far beyond black
there has been a whiting
Ten arrows shot
and the moon blew out
Took my color as I
took her heart
Do not be surprised
when night follows
Puts his shadow at your back
and tugs at your ankles
I will be at your neck
a finger trailing
I rarely give thought
Her pale too stark
for my black
Her pale now paled
Did I love her?
No one holds an orbit
No one; she told me
black was much the same
I'm willing to wager my pale
if you'll wager in kind
A Call to Conversation (7)--:devriparii:Welcome to the sixth article focusing on featuring and getting to know the deviants behind the work! This series will be posted every Wednesday. If you have a deviant you'd like to see included, please send betwixtthepages a note with the subject "Call to Conversation"--make sure to include the deviant's name as well as a reason you think they'd make a good interview subject! Also, feel free to send along a question or two you'd like to have answered by them!A Call to Conversation (7)--:devriparii: by betwixtthepages
This week's featured deviant is riparii!
Another deviant of almost-mystery, riparii's profile is a collection of contemplative poetry and questions that are sure to leave you thinking! One box, what would you do if you weren't afraid?, gives passerby just a small glimpse into the mind behind the words with an answer that is profound and poetic--I suppose I'd grow wings. Or perhaps run a hundred miles. what would you? riparii challenges peo