The sport of things

as if through streets of solid gold

a pinstripe pattern plays on the wall

the trees that line the streets

echo down the way, my eyes

are pinned to the concrete wall,

the moon resting on its silky perch

and everything feels to melt

in this heat- the very free way each car

can pass, the boom boom boom

of a solid speaker, hunting through

the streets one at a time,

ending lives, capping moments off. 

slowtrain underway

that summer

in july the palms

slipped past,

one by one

another.  you took

your time in

electric storms.

To let you savor

thunder i asked

the god of thundering

joy to belt his rhythm

into the night sky.

silvery cloud,

one by one,

wait for us up there

you dream of melting oceans,

of palmy treetops

falling...

you embrace

the earth, eat the dirt

and all at once are

born into an extradorinary league

of wonders,

and watch the sun dip down

again each night. 

Running Scared

The living

that entangles

you and me,

the primeval-

born in

the limitless night-

the sad echo

of the runner

in the valley...

are the beginning

of all things

not told with words.

Names pass

between people-

our stories knot together.

The engine of

the sun and earth

makes time,

which made mountains

its marker:

to guard against the evening

and the vast fleck

of the sky;

to spread the wealth

of the infinite,

to birth

words and numbers.

As warm as

the chords that

still the night,

if I listen to my rhythm,

as constant as

the breathing cave,

if somewhere exists-

if it never begins.

From Now to Eversummer

not easy to tell the

warmth of our story-

for we made it together-

in long quiet trespasses

in the garden’s scented darkness,

while these restless eyes

pour out your sunshine,

making senseless harmonies

sound serene and quiet and quiet,

long walks that linger late-

on the long dreams of the late night. 

The Palest Shades

on a restless ocean of thought

flying straight through the

night air while striated

streaking clouds slow down

and the sky and sea all of a sudden

lighten considerably to the palest shades.

the circling sun and strange

shallow balance of an antique sea

filled with the awkward

glow of early life. Stopped.

An anchor is a heavy weight to cast

as it is to live

always on a precipice).

traveling past a gate

and finally the promised land our escapade promised

this land to us is arrived.

heaven is dark tonight and her soul is ours

in a bath of perfumes that sit, still, having

put ashore by a garden of verdant grasses

and blossoming trees

that sings sweetly in the dark breeze and

you, here, are truly a thinker,

sweating and thinking in the last hour,

while I am already there,

I am heading on, I am heading up,

Very Appearance

Silent storms,

abandoned by winter,

collect quickly,

snowing treetops

mountains snowed in.

Alone, quick

birds are looking

for food and rain.

Snowing rain

casts a beautiful

shadow for miles.

The iron roof of the world

prideful bursts of

color

I bring it on

hiding near the floor

waiting at the door

shows up so clearly

but i can tell you

i nearly fall off the edge.

i bring it on

sometimes, guiding

my eyes to the tree trunk

at the back,

resting all my thoughts

on this glass book.

what will i say?

ill be there

at the juncture of how

and when but

i can breathe for me

and then ill see. 

lilac beginning

Lilac twinge

Summer’s lantern lowers the sky,

til all autumn’s colors begin and tangle.

 

camped above the waterfall

Magical rain breaks

and the day elongates.

The spell in my palms

will take this song along

to mountaintop nests and where

feathers are and see there

if they float along,

down mountain stream,

and raft along the river's

wavering course...

apple tasting and

the looks

of an eagle,

a storybook rainstorm,

to be inside

all day with.

stormkings

there’s a face

your mask makes,

eyes aimed longingly

toward the sun’s

graceful exit.

whispery smoke floating off

on a frosty morning’s neck.

intoxicate me,

and make me earthbound,

with only your shattering echoing

cry; your perilous rhythms pounding

in my heart...

the stillness that lows at nightfall,

whispering the names escaping from

the creeping darkness beyond

the fire’s fading glow.

Boxes

nea r  e   r   o   r    f     a      r       e      r     ?

we' r  e   l    a   n  e s i n the r o  a   d   d  I  v  i   d   ed

i      n     t     o     s m a l l boxesmade of

scents and subtles

and s u  c   h.  j   u  s t hives and bees; little seas

of creatures you and me; little echoes echo sun?

certain something spinning in the night bright

before b e  g   u    n,n   o  w    u     n    d   o  n e.

What is light?

Intoxicate,

dream,

for you are no more

than I

an eyeful island’s

careful breath,

when a storm-drenched

heaven meets

palm ends

to end.  The shape

of soul and silence

is fireflies

catching the evening sun.

Moon rises

then day dawns.

To your wild delight

his hands on her hips

the starting sun moved

along the perimeter of every curve

of pear and pomengranate along

the coast of the sea between

rocky promontories,

navigating without caution or care.

Just as the day rose that way

night collapsed in passion

all about it, threw her arms

across the sky,

traced the air currents sung

the notes of the trees of the

ways of living and dying,

everything of blooming and perishing. 

 

Embedded in a layer of new plastic

they unrolled me

this morning.

they tell me it

took quite a long time

for me to thaw-

that the circuits nonetheless

fired up right away

and seemed to conform to

the specifications

detailed in the operating manual.

I performed with

typical attention to

the integration of data

into the sublayer,

the resistance of memory,

and the steady maintenance

of virtual life.

I am a machine,

I live for the user. 

go

litl drops of honey

bead up;

bed with

mountains and valleys.

honey mountains

hollow out caves of

golden warmth,

hang honey walls

with piles of silk.

four fishes swim

the sea swims thickly

about us;

four fins darting

through swirluous currents,

breaths breathed cleanly,

alongside the shadow

from that big sea cliff,

disguised beneath the water.

A Pavilion on the river

easily turning time

unwinds-

the nights spell out sways-

long lapping watersongs-velvet-coded darkness-

pools of inky effervescence-

strands of green-colored graceful paper

crinkled up-floating away,

with effortless oneness-

their lightness on the river’s face-

a spidery dance of moonlight

invites the night all over it-

all the winds stir alongside them-

turning in-side-themselves-

its breath catches-

-little stars blink-

the river flows

into a flower again

 

sun on the waves

but teardrop,

raindrop,

velvetlike lips,

hands, palms;

at root level

a long bright

space- a wall

against every change

that descends in the night,

the waves that lap the island,

the hair that touches-

an interval of sway into

the heart clearly

loves the day,

but breathes the night. 

Nocturne or Equivalent

opened up,

the breakers seizing

and keeping open

that which gushing

toward me

is pure reflex,

embrace of

the ecstatic/inscribed upon

and the infinite

monument, obelisk

toward infinite

dream, staring

clear-eyed

in the hushed desert.

Backcountry

I like

lights off,

and windows open.

I’m into

the moods in you,

your open heart

loves, your

green leafy quiets;

their moon-

reflecting edges

which meet in the mind

between the

tidal pools of expecting

and the wilds of

what’s already lost.

I want your

cotton heart in flames

and the

light around

the distant peaks

in your eyes endless.

light of 8:30

mornings thought is to pour

out heaving gulps or sighs

from heaven- rainy sleety

love from heaven to me this morning.

stepping quickly cross pavement

beckoning on continuously,

to me, stretching on,

beckoning on and reckoning on

the fact I’ll arrive

a lit room preserved

untouched for me.

this they call work

and I labor at words

for you and me.

more for me or more

for you?  I’m not sure but

you understand.