Aware

Half-frozen mud, cold bracing air
A wind that makes my neck aware
That leaves torn from the tree will die
These poor gray strays who tumble by

And like the ghostly light I seek
The morn recedes behind the line
Only of chance to risk a peek
At drifting lives
Like yours

And mine


 

(“Aware” – 11-19-2014)

murray river basin

the earth is thirsty so am i
out past where we all come to die
alone and without celebrant
a wastrel bard irrelevant
the half-cocked eye the shaking lip
fair captain of a foundered ship
the desert plain of fated need
to thirst to ache
to drop

to bleed

sunset-colored dreams

she was as water endlessly surrounding
all that he’d ever thought to entertain;
as one who stretches ever for enlightening
and self-absorbing, always, just the same –

the light came onto, into her in gladness,
the dawn became the dwelling place of kings:
and every bit of money went as quickly
as they could turn it into newish things –

of happenings, they knew but very little;
they cared for nothing of the world’s bright schemes —
for they were all that was, a sort of ocean
of lunacy, and sunset-colored dreams

The Wind Across the Woods

The wind across the woods is in her ears;
The morning’s full of spirits out of place
And time, a sort of fence built out of years
That makes this darkened world a spectral place.

She pulls her jacket tight against the cold,
And leans against the wind to help her start.
This temporary dwelling’s gotten old;
Another harbor’s waiting for her heart.

The air is pushing, whistling through the trees.
They move in silhouette, together yoked —
Her skin is stinging with the early freeze;
This place attacks her, sure and unprovoked —

    And yet, it serves to prod her, help her learn
    We all must carry this weight, in our turn

Lyrical December

In lyrical December,
The wind sweeps down in waves:
We walk amidst the houses huddled
Up against each other —
Just us against the weather.

Along the path, the powder stacks
In piles and in drifts:
Inside, we light the fires of
Our hopefulness, and music
Swirls around like winter snow.

There’s stew upon the stove, that we
Sit down to eat together:
In lyrical December, it’s
Just us against

The weather

Blackwater Storm

power running raging smashing
black and silver lightning flashing
roiling boiling blank rehashing
dashing hope and quelling fire

terrifying in its splendor
all is smashed within the blender
there’s no choice but to surrender
drowning in the dark and dire

at our best, we’re insects swarming
here amid blackwater storming
pointlessly some shields reforming
upside downside lower higher

held here by the truth and hour
helpless with this show of power
just to wait it out and cower
until God declares
cease-fire

behind | so many veils

behind ┇ so many veils she waits ┇ he knows she does she must she does

so many ┇ perfumed rooms through which ┇ beyond the smoke of never was

he stretches ┇ xochiquetzal borne ┇ to find among the ashes there

a want behind ┇ so many veils ┇ of mad desire and

despair