SKOGAFOSS

Could life be better than this? Together
we’ve trekked Iceland’s base to this waterfall,
its vast curtain of tiering lava pearl
crashing over former coastline’s cliffs while
our special moment’s massed with gifts: arced prism
of moonbow gracing grass and moss-banked hills,
mastered by lunar glow; and more: streaked chrism
of emerald aurora like angels’
transparent robes consecrating royal-
blue sky laced with starscape. Love, how do we
capture this in memory, stay loyal
to art enrapturing us for only
an instant? How shall history realize
shining heaven reflected in our rich eyes?

Roger Armbrust
November 30, 2011

FIREBALL OVER TENERIFE

Here on this gorged island’s northwestern edge,
in Macizo de Teno outcroppings,
we brace to view Cliffs of the Giants’ ledge
after ledge, vast panorama dropping
like mammoth slack jaws into the shining
Atlantic, peaceful waters catching last
glow of sunset. We sit arm in arm, sing
soft lyrics of oceans and lands, hold fast
to each other’s hands, watching sloping rock
and sea turn to matching carbonado.
Suddenly we’re startled by flashing shock
of laser sword sweeping as long ago
against shields of clustered stars above us.
We gaze and wish, asking it to love us.

Roger Armbrust
November 28, 2011

DAY AFTER THANKSGIVING

Suddenly standing there in our brief aisle
at noon, you stared at me like Renoir’s Girl
with a Hoop, her slightest hint of a smile,
and deep eyes like hers, though yours blue-gray pearl,
your shining light hair now dark shade like hers,
even darker still. Reflex had me hug
you. You gestured a slight caress, deferred
depth to politeness: How are you? I shrugged
a bit and told you. I praised your dark hair.
You stepped away, probably knowing words
I wanted to say from sharing my stare.
That night I watched UCTV, then heard
Nancy Wilson sing as I thought back to
this first time I’d had a chance to hold you.

Roger Armbrust
November 27, 2011

I WISH THEM ALL WELL

When soft rain sifts like manna through nightfall
I wish them well, old lovers, wish them all well.
As ice cubes melt in the closed bar’s highball,
reluctant memory, I wish them well,
I wish them all well. While my hot shower
clears tainted pores, drains stained water like lost
hope to some distant pool flexed with power
of chemical purity, mute to cost
of future races, I wish them well, I
wish them all well. When Mars’ frozen moisture
cakes into small mounds, burns earth scientists’ eyes
bright as coals, offers survival tincture
of space, a final place humans might propel,
I wish them well, old lovers, wish them all well.

Roger Armbrust
November 24, 2011

BEFORE SUNRISE

Streetlights auburn bright and flashing car lights
like flickering memory dashing down
North Lookout while charcoal sky, fading night’s
overseer, loosens its soft-veiled gown,
leaning to silhouette wide autumn oaks
still clinging to their rippling leaves. Show us
slight glow of morning mist—ghost priest who soaks
all earth with moist grace. Gentle breeze, blow us
some sacred kiss, some secret message found
only in semi-sleep, this space we sense
as we gaze through open window at ground
fertile with haze and hope, our recompense
for waking from spirit’s dream. Distant call
of a lone mockingbird seems to bless all.

Roger Armbrust
November 22, 2011

I NEED TO WRITE

I need to write a sonnet about death.
I need to jot a verse on loneliness.
I need to show soft glaze of winter breath
hazing stained glass with smoke’s disguised caress.
I need to record your right eye’s iris,
its floating silver fleck in sky-blue lake,
glinting hypnotic ruler, a virus
of passion inciting me to forsake
caution’s garden and echo ancient howls
of desire. I need to sharpen a quill,
make it bleed black consonants and vowels
cutting into open wounds fit to kill
opinion, drying into heaven’s scars,
causing gods to murmur, You’ve gone too far.

Roger Armbrust
November 13, 2011