Going Home

Not one thing or the other.
Streams converge, swimming
multi-layered waters.
There is the rainbow.
The rain
clouds and airwaves
converging into sea.
I feel my whole body running, running.
I have no destination, so
I run until
breath fails me.
Heart pounds a symphony,
speaks tongues and rhythms
overplayed through decades.
Epiphany evades; it teases.
Having no one left to please, I
walk slow
step by mesmerizing step.
One day the clouds open.
Cleansing rain overwhelms.
I see the rainbow,
arc over the world,
shine in my secret language.
I have found my way home.
Not one place or another.
Streaming convergence of
layers upon memories
sail free.


Arising from Diffraction

Colder than the weather
and unsettled,
under collective oceans, scuttling claws.
Ill-content to follow temporal laws,
I ride moonbeams along neuro-electric
distracted from segmented scenes.
Extended feelings report well.  No nauseous meds,
no precious moments ignored to awe some
foreign-speaking doctor’s presence.
Forever short-circuited, my essence
traded chronic pain
for devils’ staccato dancing through my brain.
Meditation, mediation, Buddha’s great epiphany:
mindful liberation.
Join us!  Joyous! The perfect wave.
Milky bright foam carrying home
what remains
after battles and grief.
Our place of safety
fragile, contingent on
Subaqueous protected crevices
hide special eyes
immune to humanity’s
fashion fascinations.
Intent upon
defense against
hungry beasts,
angry gods;
I can’t help you while
you deny
my existence.



Night dreamer
Night weaver
Night seeker
of what’s hidden by day
Brutal light persuades,
bearer of ignoble names.
Broken under debt to
masters of the law and ledger.
Broken under shame, 
laughter cracks expose disgrace.
Harsh brightness has ceased
faux role as friend, teasing companion.
Lonely, bent to meet depression’s
rightful end, tragic eyes divine
sprite mages of the night.
Weavers playful, out of sight
of nonbelievers in
this place of magick.
Arrogance of spite,
self-fulfilling need
to define how we allow
can’t touch primal power clothed in night.



Why be kind?
Why model humane expectations
of the reasoned mind?
Theories of evolution advance
strategic Golden Rule.
Like birds in migration, fish in school,
move forward,
we increase the common pie.
All well fed, well loved,
well harmonized.
Why would we not assume
that paradigm?
Why favor divisive cries for
war’s revenge, bitter tears fed
by fears but murkily explored?
Why persist kindly, faced by
derisive mocking,
dangers not unfounded to we shocked by 
sharp wound-bearing stones
flung as punishment while gossips
upbraid our sins?
Can we find and flow together,
embrace ourselves as kin:
we who are kind?



So pretty the crescent moon
fading into dark.
Empty night
merges with memory
I can not face,
can not see.
Soul tired, beyond weary ache,
oppressed muscle, bones.
Beyond any place called home.
Not a child of misery,
no one to blame, none to brace.
Flight soft and free,
treetop to treetop,
laughing at clouds
in their droll
picture play.
It takes a toll, years in.
Naysayers denounce: “We reject
you, dear; not of the body.”
Inject powerful medications
to prove their point,
their divinity.
Blissfilled moments
carry me
upon some apocalyptic
Far short of any paradise, I surrender.
Soul tired, yearning for the Moon.


Q & A

I need you, out there,
to ask delicious questions,
feed my liminal factory —
imaginal machinery set to
engineer exquisite ideas
in shrink-wrapped phrases.
Tell me your shame-held
secrets, fears that track you
in the night.
Let me meld them with
trenchant fairytales,
legends that recapitulate
on cable news, vibrant stylings
of the Blues,
surreal cartoons rendered by
Nietzschean travails.
Let me knead this recipe,
sprinkle with inchoate memories,
bake at near 99 degrees
until brilliant fragrance overtakes the air.
Now, open wide and taste
enchantment, as your questions
and my answers
meet, mingle, mutually complete. 


New American Century

After Shock and Awe,
extreme conflict booms – a
“transitional time of untidiness”.
We bombed in Baghdad.
Cast crusade banner blame
as if to clean up this mess.
Common folk, forced collateral,
pay braggarts’ debts of hubris
compounded and raised.
Drunk on destruction to fell
inclusive truths of good faith,
triumph of the crazed.



Foundational to rights,
firm genitor beneath ideas like
rule of law
we find community
and all our masks
and stories.
Wise elders in tribal past
devised mythic ritual,
stomping into Earth,
with land
of propinquity, sacred space.
I see your face,
study the lines and lessons
life has given.
Do you grieve the scarlet
streams of so unnecessary
missed cues,
fear itself,
unexpected ripples of results,
distress of guilt?
If life were simple
childish agonies
dispelled with dawn’s
bright kiss,
we would laugh
so happy to know
mistrust, cross-talk
easily sorted out in counsel.
Cast of collaborative cells,
congregated to empower,
we could harness the Sun, Moon,
birth of expansive Universe,
nurturing our responsiveness to grow.


Under Solstice

in phase
with natural rhythms.
Shadow to light
with greater cycles.
Time through space.
Do ages cohabitate?
Do stars expand,
express tragic brilliance?
Do simple little twists
change worlds and consciousness?
Very early in the day,
just beyond the penumbra
of night, as magic
clashes with reason:
That color so enriches
my palette.
Air gives way to water.
Arid ambience anticipates days
absorbed with passionate profusion,
emotional sailing on vast
turbulent (and/or) brooding seas.
The desert is so fragrant,
exotic, mystically inviting.
Dusk whirls of wilding sands,
stoic creatures,
surprises brusquely revealed.
The desert in forms, sculpts,
creates crannies of secret
delight throughout covert imagination.
A no-man’s land where cognition
gasps as inspiration
blows through, encompassing
I will not leave the desert.
I will merge with its becoming,
allow imminent floods
to rise into thirsty pores
rendering sand squishy, unsettling
into ocean floor.
Ride with me.
Open raft beneath firmament,
unguided, unplanned, unafraid.
Changing winds have always been my home.
Enclosed against starlight.
Sacrosanct eidola
keep close their
occult meaning.
A touch, a brush,
an entanglement.
Awake in the dream,
breathing cool greens,
intense shadings,
pregnant intimacies
bursting into
the magic of life.
Trail of effervescent Mercury’s abandon.
Charming trickster,
plays upon seasoned winds  — Quicksilver surf.
Exhale old air’s detritus.
Inhale and whoosh,
under sea-change brew.
Sentimental, far from gentle,
whirlwinds cumulate; ambitions,
expected conditions,
waver memory.
Caught up in flying breeze,
blown out, engulfed in ocean,
forgotten gills respond —
mer-eyes open.


Summer Again

… movin’ into summer
Wind plays in cloud formation.
Drift into deep elation.
Sun rise
blossoms to a
rhythmic peak
sending out, sending out, sending out
radiant vibration
reflected through summer skies.
New esprit conjures a story.
Fantasy and careless
fling into tall grass,
fruit full trees, languid leaves.
Ebullient sunshine warms
melting melodies.
The tale unwinds in brightly
colored ribbons,
high jinxed gypsy comedies
of breezy, dimpled romance.
In silken perfumes bathed,
flagrantly scandalous.
Deign o dainty smile.
Laughter bubbles out,
bursts.  Minstrel raucous flames
fill summer eves’
glistening fairy light
Tell a rollicking tale,
we demand of the piper.
We have paid all the long
seasons of darkness.
It is time to reap an early harvest
of rapture dancing to dawn.