VOS QUE

airliners shed sunlight
pierce heaving slight
the flit ghost lock

Tender there against the
adrenal temps

there are tempers of
madness dripping
the loose mind connections

shivers thin sheaves
tinfoil emollient

roam room rotations
and the steady moment
clarity like a thousand
foot fall opens up
like a smile

Ravi played the sitar and
George's guitar wept....

I am not fond of farewells nor
of passages in and out of worlds
I barely know. There are hands
that hold the loam of fecund earth, there is sunshine
in the pockets of those amoung us, rising.
Rising again. Again.
In music, there can be no believers,
There are no earth-bound hostages in its
sound.

~~~~

I have observed most folks live
in houses palatial,
brightly lit
heated hot

very few live in homes
within warm blankets
provided by living souls
in human form,

we all are hypocrites
more than not, often

Sometimes,
on the frozen edges of old night,
I sit upon the back-door steps,
flakes of snow still wandering through
the yellow glow of back-porch light,
and in the frost-breathed dark,
dusted by a swath of watchful stars
crowding close around the house,
I hear winter's whispering wind
through the leafless snowbound oaks,
and it brings back memories of the sea
a thousand miles of lifetime away.