friends without a mask

Preface

[I am my own solitude

longing when distant 

electric being

touches the light of two 

and there finds me solitaire,

a kind of warm dark intimacy 

with a breathing deep-seated 

aspiration 

to share] 

i feel like we could be friends, if we could get beyond the mask of this heavy being. the imposition of this crushing moment. it's a kind of love letter you know? it's real and without pretension, (as much as any mask could be). it's written in my diary for the day, part of the public record, there for archaeologists to decipher:

"here loved a man" 

who were his enemies? "he must perish by his own hand. it's the honourable thing to do, it is." but this light between us doesn't take orders from the basement. so let go yes? release the other's hold about your neck. breathe with me fully for the first time. then eternity in our eyes, our fingertips, our lips. 

 

magic

magic in these running hills, 

sundripped smiles upon 

the golden grain, 

if time stood still 

we'd meet forever there

upon the waving paths of

memory's imagination 

instead of growing old, 

how precious 

this brilliant spark 

hanging in a void 

glowing in the dark 

blue and green against a

host of lights 

so far in endless night 

how precious our hands 

together 

The seed

 

It's a bit of you, 

The only bit I have left. 

And I grow it like a seed 

In warm soil 

In the off chance you'll 

See how long I cared.

You never understood

How deep the daylight pierces

All of these intentions, 

But I don't blame you. 

For one more time I'd 

Sew the sun behind my eye 

To see you face to face. 

This is truth and everything 

That matters in the world, 

If we could just pause for 

One last moment to say, 

Goodbye. 

the dead see

the dead see

through my eyes, 

-resurrection-

as if to say 

your eyes can see too

but first a death 

then the rebirth 

in a difficult moment 

then a second chance to be

two lives before the end 

there is only one way to 

live again 

and i have 

found it 

Reawakening

Life, for me, has been an oscillation between poetry and prose, unconscious and conscious existence. I suspect it's the same for many people, in its own way.  Lately I've been able to cultivate a vision of the world, only in part, in which I see everything around me as if I was a soul returned to a body.  How would you -feel-, how would you -see-, if you had one last chance to see the world after having lost everything to that eternal night of slumber?  Can you find it within yourself to see the world as if having lost it?

night would turn to day

night would turn to day

if you stayed

with me beside the sea

or here upon this hill

until the rosy dawn

and all the sparkles

on the distant waves

would witness what 

we gave each other

oh tale for some 

far time 

pure and diamond set 

on the finger of a dream

gleaming in my eye 

of ocean blue 

a radiant yearning beam

me looking at you

sailfished-eye by
glint of golden sun
procure for me a dream
wherein grass-breezed
beaches blow your 
radiant eyes.
is it a dream
or do i die?
the brilliant golden
land draws near,
my home upon 
the warmest
far off hills and
dawn of southern sky
for you alone
i die

when your eyes were stars

when your eyes were stars

we were young together 

separated by miles and 

long distance phone calls 

and in my memory

your eyes were stars 

on those dark nights in 

wooden door frames 

beneath the Memphis sky 

how simple love could be 

as an old man snored and 

a friend feigned sleep to 

hear my hushed declarations 

but could you love 

me this way?

there is a strange 

phenomenon 

in which a heart is torn 

in two 

in which decisions must be made 

there beneath the Memphis sky 

to rend a life or 

leave it whole

to let those stars burn brightly 

or take one from the sky

hang up a phone and 

sneak back to bed

to close my eyes and 

dream 

you have made the world

you have made the world
a better place
and by your gestures
graced the darkened earth,
how lucky i was to know you
Baucis of the deep blue lake.
though left alone with half a heart
and longing for the golden meadow
still offered godlike hospitality
until the light consumed you.

brave Baucis of the falling bombs and
thundering ocean waves
made a journey to this
green and yellow shore
with Philemon at her steadfast side
and planted there a tree of love
that grew into the gift of
many grateful lives.

peace... peace
upon your tired face
once glowing so brightly 
upon the farmhouse hearth.
your graces burn within me
as we mourn, in our own way,
the reunion of Baucis and Philemon

Sweeping days

What if the sweeping days

Were gods 

And existence their 

Cries and laughter? 

I will be the joy or

Sadness of angelic Host 

Their sighing and 

Their smile 

I will be their death and 

Birth 

A divine gift 

Formed by the word 

"Mine" 

To take this life and make 

It so 

To rush and stream 

Toward undying light 

Greater things

There are greater things than the 

Idea of your gods

For gods can never know the 

Friendship of wanderers or the 

Sky-eyed host of grasstreaders, 

Oceangazers, treetouchers 

But that was the test wasn't it? 

God is:

"That than which nothing

Greater can be conceived" 

But I can conceive it 

And its conception fills me like a 

Star-lapping wave, 

With a truth that didn't come 

From a book, 

It surpasses the paper gods, 

It is greater by a green mile, 

By a host of singing lights 

That illuminate my heart, 

It is the love of a dear friend that 

Shares the long road and 

Sheds my tears 

The sunlight through the trees

Upon the infant's pure eye, 

The space between our 

Longing and Eternity, 

Present at every moment

For those with 

Eyes to see, 

Good hearts, 

Faces turned toward the 

Rising lands and waters 

October

What double filament link binds

my soul to you?

Catapulted through the centuries 

Like a cannonball 

Through a dark corridor.

This Fall is cold 

Without you... 

oh sacred month

oh sacred month

as old as tree and 

mountain stone 

let Nature's face

glow within our 

blood-red hearts 

the blood first spilled 

upon an autumn rock 

and spattered on the

yellow leaves of Fall 

we are their children and

will dance 

within the glowing 

groves 

what god would dare to

take the Name? 

not Perseph or Hest

Demeter or Saraswati

there is one 

Nature 

and I beneath the oak 

embrace her

There will be a reckoning

There will be a reckoning

For these thunderous 

Seeds we have planted in the 

Deep dark earth between us 

When this green sprout reaches 

To the crackling heavens 

Will the sky not be split in

Two? 

Will time not disappear and 

Moment's breath cease at the 

Coming of the thousand-leafed 

Wonder we have birthed?

Is there enough sky to contain it? 

crossings

at our meeting

the vision of you 

swept me away

and i will never 

live as much 

as in that  

moment 

how intensely the 

sky burns above us 

how the 

burning the stars 

and the premonition of

destinies touching 

here beside the quiet tree 

i wait for your 

streaming eyes 

oh darling vision 

memory's shimmering 

reflection