The stream (all workshops)
The loneliness inside me,
that reigns as a tomb
and the moon burning on my tongue,
ignorant and all-knowing he laughs
the years passed, the gate-keeper
of my night, what happened
with your countenance?
Specters cursed to roam the night
With wings unfurled
Taking flight
Haunting of a sweetened dream
Turning all
To hellish scream
Going forth in surges
Of blood
Tombs have opened
Pushing away
Mud
Howling
Prowling
Till first light
Prayers are heard
Beseeching safety
On this night
Erase the fears
Of the
Specters flight
on the edge of madness,
away from greedy fingers,
me, an insignificant particle
without a name,
swimming through the doubts
of my existence
even the deadliest sarcasm
wouldn't me
from the eyeless abyss, wide as the night
my hollow eternity splintered
in the heat of the animal,
rise and break, uneducated force
if I reach, you vanish
if I give up, you come
churlish alms
pressed in sandwich kits
tucked away in tin lined
repositories
for rainy day recalls
winterstorm days
howling ghosts
against the morning
the latch flip
like a snap
span time snap
and reread
like shopping lists
of feelings
submitting poems with child-like innocence,
elementary misspellings and unknown passions,
and everyone here says you're brilliant.
they congregate, like Christians praising fiction,
Muslims facing the meteor,
or uninformed Americans voting on smiles ...
although you and I, we know
Like Gilgamesh, we will fail immortality,
but the rocks tied to our feet will surely drown us,
only our words have the slightest chance of seeing
beyond the seed of our seed,
for even eternity is limited for us
I woke up this morning to wonderment and awe.
It was raining and cold outside,
as it should be
I was warm in bed and stayed as long as needed.
Then,
oh yes then,
I made pancakes and bacon with maple syrup
and strong fresh coffee for breakfast.
I pondered my eight lives spent,
and the most beautiful angel guarding the last,
and added more cholesterol
and gave my readers only this
[grins]
there's a complicity of silence
in a poet's hands
sometimes what is withheld
will
rise and fall like phases of the moon
everywhere
the water, and sound strings
beads together into initiations of prayer
but in the desert where poets go to pray
the ritual is under fire;
the sun is demanding:
what is written must be heard
waterfalls are wells here,
they come swiftly in the night
to dream
a thousand lotus dreams
the dreamer
tethered to a camel
alone again.
I saw you behind the sales counter
Joking and laughing with a customer
I said, this must be a nice man
The day I met you at the zebra crossing
You helped some kids to go across
I was convinced you were a simple man
That day you helped an old woman
Displaced from the queue by hooligans
You challenged, your bravery won my heart
When we met at the restaurant, I chose
To sit close to you and you smiled at me
Your honesty and goodness bathed my soul
POISONED WELLS
And so it came to pass
a pestilence rode a desert wind
and poisoned desert wells
all who drank of their waters
would never know thirst again
holy faces pale hidden in black veil
murmured canticles to dying candle flames
for an end to God’s fury....
strikes of blood aross infinite skies
seers and madmen chanted litanies
of ancient curses dark
to end Hell’s delight....
hollow echoes reverberating hollow voices
We are no equals...
Definitely no identical twins...
Why did He use a rib bone?
But not one from the skull....
Did He fear I’d defeat you?
Or wanted me to be your aide
Anyway, it explains....
Why our brains don’t work the same....
And why at times you act strange....
Up there, you’ve got different cells obviously
No wonder your mind’s a complete mystery
Hence, now the best left to do
Is to stop the struggle to understand you
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