The stream (all workshops)
WARS
The war was done
I thought
But it hardly had begun
I lay dying in lavender fields
And fell into a sleep
Of another dreaming
Deep as any death could be
I thought
Until a daylight came
And I felt my breath
Once again
I witnessed the grace of innocence
The symmetry of your infant mortality,
And utopia became a probability.
Pristine eyes oblivious to the Universe
Bearer of hope, faith restored
By the vision of your vulnerability.
Occasion to retain untainted reality,
Prevent the stain ,
Live happily.
Heart engorged by love
And the urge to press you to my breast
To protect enshrouds me.
Adoration of a inconsolable naivety
Elation created by the fact
Of your birth.
place your markers
the bets
like no gaurantees
with fingers crossed
all the filligree of time
like lace etched
we wander in our trails
sweet in histories breaks
like hot tea and cold showers
while bitterness falls like
a welcome rain
this obsession
so brand new
wound about you
Come mother come
Lets play so
Ah! Now life is not a merry play though
Every morsel of mine
Would bring in games undefined
& nights use to sing
The songs of loins & kings
Any silly action of mine
Was divine
& my needs
Were fulfilled like deeds
If I would cry
Your world would cease
& moist eyes always said
Honey you are the best
I now know
Why my doll dressed like you
Yes I know
Why I thought you as a foe
Each dawn brings a distantiation –
a photograph
viewed through old Lucite
Dance of evanescence
in the skies fiery meadows
Pleochroic displays
On the eastern horizon
The night sings
canticles to the dead
while the living
are trapped in partial death
My mind –
a melange of melancholic molecules –
a shiver of constant vibration
I am caught up – trapped
in a plexus of emotion
and expectation
I live apologetically –
ill at ease
on the razor edge of time
Words hang from the cross,
I will not worship them in your poems
as they fall from your tongue into my
open hands,
I must save them!
(or be denied the vacant-eyed skull of Horatio, mocking
the corpse flower that never blooms)
I offer seven veils of blood to resurrect
the dead that stones may speak of
cause and effect, light the light of a thousand ships
homeward bound across this sea of grace
lifting to my eyes
but let your words fall where they may
now, my Beloved
I have hope
you come back smelling of damp wool-
the sweater and coat, straw and shit
picked up from late nights
after smoking weed
ash flaking from chin and cheek
and i wish you could be where the ocean lies
Where you felt the subtle wind shifts
salt glistening on lips
as fish gasped and stars clustered in the sand
we used to walk there
hurling coins across the sea
building bridges with knots and fists
i watch you now
digging up cities of corpses
as doves fly out of your pockets
scavenging the carnage.
All I really have to do
is start to read a bit of Frost,
then all his words simple and true
assure that any block is lost.
The way he looked about the world
seeing a bit of beauty everywhere
as his life slowly unfurled
which, with us, he chose to share.
I wonder if the old guy still was here
what would he think of urban sprawl?
Would he think our world is strange and queer?
He'd likely just write of it all
Senyu
Hurdlers scurry treetops
Stowing wintertime supply
two squirrels gather nuts
______________________
Haiku
Behind rain, lighting
Bright, reddish, stormy heavens
Awe an orange sun sets
_________________________
Haiku
Hung above snow clouds
Amidst rain, thunder, lighting
A rainbow paints skies
________________________
Senyu
Birds glide south, to rest
From strain, of winter famine
Depart, vacant nest
July 4, the day of America’s glory
Chosen before the eyes and the law
Witnessed the tying of nuptial knots
Folks like a nation in concert of states
Joined to celebrate a meaning in marriage
And sing the anniversary song thereafter
We took as settled what was given freely
Unaware of the dinghy drifting ashore
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