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.

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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

tracks,

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

circumstance.

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.

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Nightsong

 

 

 

 

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.

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Kinship

 

 

 

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?

 

disintegration

 

 

 

 

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

journey.

Far short of any paradise, I surrender.

Soul tired, yearning for the Moon.

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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. 

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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.

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History

 

 

 

 

Foundational to rights,

firm genitor beneath ideas like

freedom

equality

rule of law

we find community

You

Me

and all our masks

and stories.

Wise elders in tribal past

devised mythic ritual,

stomping into Earth,

communion

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

suffering,

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,

simply

nurturing our responsiveness to grow.

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Under Solstice

 

 

 

 

Swinging

in phase

with natural rhythms.

Shadow to light

entrained

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

senses.

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

meander,

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.

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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

soporific

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.

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