The Muse’s Fire
September 12, 2009

Sunrise in the Sonoran desert.

Morning:

The simple facts are naked and pink;

a reviving number of sun-lit breaths,

a second helping of morning,

golden opportunities to make time fly  

or scratch the dog’s back in lazy circles.

 

Noon:

Coffee rising. A non-option, really,

those stale afternoons littered with yesterday’s prayers

that smell like old rain and stomp the stairs

going nowhere fast. Waiting for the churlish skies

scrubbed childlike and new, waiting for the newborn worlds

to cry a fateful tune. No need to fret —

the Universal antennae adjusts itself,

the frequency frequent enough,

the bright, cellophane words busting out

of pinata souls written in half.

 

Night:

Rushing Saturday off to endless destinations,

coated in foreign scents chasing dog-eared adventures

while trees typed on windowpanes that weren’t your own,

voyeuristic roots exploring uncharted, fecund soils,

time unbridled and galloping off as time is wont to do,

shadows growing older in the solitude,

crock pot seething on the counter, forgotten,

dogs fogging up the windowglass to see what you’ve begotten

while the evening grows colder as you grow braver,

tossing extra logs upon the Muse’s fire.

Sonoran sunset over the mountains.

 

Poem and photos by Emily Murdoch.

Bless The Querying Writer.
March 9, 2009

1000 words.

 

the deed is done

the gauntlet thrown

the friend of yes

the foe of no

and while their fate

in limbo goes,

bless the querying writers

in between

a rock and a hard dream,

wearing their stories

on their sleeves

and just returned

from imaginary lands

still warm to the touch

of their trusty pens.

 

On the middle saguaro -- see the woodpecker making a hole for its nest?

 

Poem and photos by Emily Murdoch.

Go Home, Again.
January 29, 2009

The Winter Monsoon hearts Rainbows.

 

Go back to the words.

When trusty mountains shake

and lucky stars shudder,

when the compass denounces North

and the Sun forgets to rise,

go back to the Source;

put that crazy-brilliant antenna up

and see what you can catch.

Invite unbridled greatness

to swallow you whole

and spit you out, inspired.

Go back to the child

who dreamt in roy g biv,

who flew with the fairies,

whose dreams came bright and easy,

who can’t wait to see you, again.

 

And this is the *desert*.

 

(Poem and photos by Emily Murdoch)