June 2012



Death by Delusion
Glimmers in the Stream
Time Storm
Touch the Sky with Me
Fragments of Joy

Scabs from the Concrete of Clouds
   (in the cries of my own sweet dream)
A Wind's Dark Cry
The Aural Surreal
Earth and Sky
Whiskey Sours

Death by Delusion

Were we but warriors,
fearless
immune to love’s infection
inured to the pain,
stainless
tempered steel when we cried.

Were we but warriors,
fearless
soul eaters
champions against this neutered dream
heroes risen -
slain
our heads held high by the hair.

 

Glimmers in the Stream

down they probe
with sound and specula of light
rolling back the scrabble
pages revealed in UV
X-rays and IR
radio-carbon dated for your pleasure

back they probe with radio and optics
out from our terra-plex
through curtains of time and space
weighing cloudy dark matters
brimming with wombs of stars

down they peer
through the silt and darkness
to lost cities and cultures
lines drawn on the bed of the sea
back beyond a comprehension
that existed before our juvenile theories

would they think us aliens -
a virus if they knew what it was?
back and further back the ruins lie
12,000 years now
what peoples
were their ancestors?

We are but tourists
dropping by to sample the air
for less than a decade
or for seven or so.
our paint strokes
our poems,
our political plights
our hungers
our heartbreaks
our longings
our dreams
just glimmers in a stardust stream
of this wonderful cosmic wow.

Thanks to Rayla Noel for the inspiration for research this

Time Storm

Doors are closing,
slamming shut,
windows snapping
at lingering fingers
as any lost tendril of our hope.
Will you reach and answer
or ring off into this lifetime’s night?

Stones are rolling,
I can hear them on the prairie floor,
skies are unfastening
scents and heartbeats
riveted eyes
sacred moments
beginning to run
a smear, a dissolving.

 

Touch the Sky with Me

Touch the sky with me
raise a tempest in our tea.
careen with me into the maze of the night
with your timid ploys and mischief
our lips colliding in a shattering kiss
our eyes entranced, lost
in a chumble,
a tempest of colors and words
a silence profound
with your lifting of a brush from its flawless stroke
my nib from a page with the perfect tactile word.

I love that we paint in adjectives
that we speak in color
that the rims of our worlds
are shimmering with phrases still drying,
with the spirit of an unbridled mare.
I love that you reach for the high in me
that I reach for the best in you.

Touch the sky with me my darling
and the sea…
the ever nourishing sea.
Touch me with the glisten
of this love in my eyes.

 

Fragments of Joy

In ten thousand strangers
I’ve found thousands of fragments of you.
Lucky them - mostly.
Lucky me.

There are billions more we’ll never meet,
endless stories on the side of the road,
tales of gladness,
travails of sadness,
plights and tribulations we can’t possibly absorb.

I found my joy in you.
I could ask for little else in my days,
…a roof, a meal.

And now I look for you
in everyone I meet - mostly,
and in everyone I don’t.
Fragments of joy.

I don’t see you much anymore.

Scabs from the Concrete of Clouds
(In the cries of my own sweet dream)

I feel your body crying
your essence trapped
in this skinless charade…
in the hollows of our empty rooms
when no fingerprints lie,
where no hair remains,
where my tears have not dared stray.

I feel your emptiness,
the abyss
rise to surround your mind,
skewing your faith
from our joie de vivre,
from jasmine’s wafting summer tears,
or our eyes spilling midnight smiles.

There’s been no meal shared in this savory dream,
no simple kiss as you close your eyes,
no cupping your breasts in the night,
no squeeze in the violet
from our dawn’s sweet sheets.
I feel your tears… yearning
in glistening clots, muffled light
swallowed in the cries of my own sweet dream.