Junesong

Big wave cloud

crashes.  I love

the sea.

When I feel it in me

I know.

I begin again.

Fireflies came out one by one

and lit the night.

The growing grass smells

the honeysuckles smell.

The leaves and sky are wed.

Every seed becomes the voice. 

Maps in Sunlight

The smell

of an open bottle

of wine

invades us

in our room.

We watch

the lights dim,

if they were

flames they’d flicker

a bit but

bulbs bring

things low,

and then ride.

A fort and

hills all around

surround.

Just as the

snow melts,

hearts run wild

and new lines

crease everything;

and crease

everything again,

and fold and fold

and fold

to new wrinkles.

Wild Wings

if there's a secret

that stillness keeps,

if we share

a secret stillness

still kept deep,

-then the wind keeps it

in your eyes-

or if it keeps wild love alive

by twisting strange nights

into untamed firefly songs,

-or sings you to sleep-

it slumbers,

-while

the whole wind whispers

your name-

and keeps still at night

Uneven

I am like this.

I am

of the water-

yielding, returning-

undulating.

The earth

birthed me

in secret,

not even I knew

that I was.

Now I am

alone in the allness,

in the mystery

in the mouth

of time.

Every breath

sunshine raining in your eyes;

if you go far today

keep one little thing

tight in the palm of your mind,

a pebble maybe,

a spark of grasshopper's

long-dwelling note

or a smooth cool

drink of water.

don't hold on too close

and never let go;

fall in the long slanted beams

of sunshine;

fall aloft in the summertime.

o noche te amo

The night

through the window

is a beckoning

hand that loves

me well every time.

To her curves

of blue down

black I'm

always prone;

the sure

art of her breeze

is pure femininity

to me and

I wander in

the direction of her perfume.

 

in aestate luceque credo

I am not mistaken.

The days our inter-

twining minutes count

and enumerate,

or pass out in the attempt,

every single ending

on its network

love to be built up

and taken apart;

reduced or

linked together in

this, their state

of blossom,

the unbuckling of

every single day-

to count each

separate seed

to eat sweetly.

Then daylight...

2 Spirals for

Eyes come out of

the darkness un-

obscure and darkness

sparkling in a

thousand fireworks

of their passion.

YOUR eyes,

milk and honey,

sparkness darkling

breathing deeply

every fullness,

and sing of everything.

The moment

Night comes to this

snowy, volcanic land in a rush

of peach and molten reds.

Bjork has sat up

so many nights

like this one.

Her gaze never changes,

never flickers,

or wavers in intensity.

Two long and slender

fingers hold a cigarette

that burns without a care

for itself at all;

the singer is as untense as

a flowering orchid when,

suspended momentarily

in the light of dawn,

it blushes and opens up,

stretching large

and lazily.

She flicks the ash

into the ashtray and slowly reclines,

putting her feet up.

The way the burn lingers

in her mind,

an ocean apart or

long rangy mountains

couldn't deter her

in her mental ambulations.

She was thinking of science,

its swarming dragonflies

abuzz with knowing;

and of religion,

which seemed to her almost

nuclear in its unending

eruption, description

of ecstatic life;

sweltering in her mind.

She inched slowly, cautiously

toward a personal

reconciliation of the two

things.

The lights of the stereo

blink and beckon

her to bed.

She slips into slumber

as softly as

an elephant comes tumbling to the ground,

raising a great cloud of dust

up toward the trees. 

So soul alive

burning night

the living day

is a friend,

a random spontaneous

gust of

paper cranes

across my brain,

sailing the current

in no direction,

not going

anywhere.

not being anything other

than yourself,

stopped, started, halted,

giving giving,

gone in the burning night

again. 

Running

your palm

in mine

summer sun

stunned

sunstorm love,

deep dark blue.

o oceaneyes

that ripple

cotton heart

in flames

tongues talk

in caves

words

that have no meaning.

perfect day

unends

Orogeny

The light changed time,

dimming daylight,

day by day.

The time mountains took

to fold themselves up.

The play of smoke

in the air as

you lay by the river.

Echoes always keep

these moments

in the mind’s

inner ear,

an entire history

stored in tiny instants,

a flicker’s second of significance

in the dust of the night.

Hurricane Meditation

The augmenting sound of
all of existence unending.

Escalation, the forces that push us together.
Enchantments, intoxications, decipherments
unwritten.  Joy in destruction, sugar tinted song
of night.  Oscurecer, an invitation
to dance.  Olvidar,
the voluptuous shapes of the almond
trees billowing in the wind.

O crescendoing.  To the
undoing of our easy dis
positions, til we tilt
our heads in easy ecstasy,
for I feel a wildness coming on:

razor eyelashes and sun-
burned cheeks.  Bone
necklaces break in the waves.
Your stories are appreciated,
creature, the eyes of winter fade away...

Scatter my light,
I'm still and obedient to my heart.

Won't you come closer?
Honeysuckle making noise in
the mouth of time, canoes rowing out
on my river.  On
your wild plains.
Feverstruck tongue
and I dripped a cave open.

Summoning you in the depths of song.

Partial Return

Sped home on moonbeams crazy miles long
wrapped in smiles that had traveled from
summerstorm to dawn.

Slipping into the city one quiet hour
after another, unraveling
on my balcony,
looking out
over ivy-covered walls,
seeing little whispered stories
unfold, inundated in the untold
spells we'll tell the world~

Ballad Excite

Feral dreams

come over us-

out on the

ranch is desolate-

and stopping,

stopping-

and slowing down.

Slowly, smoothly

bringing the car

to a halt

by the side of

the road.

We’re out of

gas and

the road seems

empty, always

dreaming, always

sleeping, maintaining a

thick blanket

of emotion rawness

to eat, always.

Shellfish and branch of fern

The heaven-weight

of a single stem

seems to bend

beneath me in the sun;

the sunflower’s petals

turning in my eyes

and ears and

one strum of chord

causes the water

to spring from the air,

then return to it.

I’ve got my hands

against your back,

flat and strong it

anchors you in understanding

and resists this sea

of flowers crashing about you.

One Wave

Salt and cloud

overcome the earth.

Wave tips

silver your eyes

which rest

on every movement.

The ocean hangs

by the moon

and keeps time

to the cell and rock

whose existence

only she will record.

As still as one

The moment

among the dusty leaves.

Gentle breeze

touches your evening cheek.

All of time stands out

in the sun,

as if, while

all remains equal,

one leaf flashes then,

another flashing now-

an echo in the summer

ends and echoes again

in the leaves between. 

 

Hundred Horses

a palm full

of white feathers

of what holding

is to his palm

is folding the fingers

carefully about what’s

being held feld

into drops dewing up

up on the tip their nose.

radiating espiralating all

about a given center,

an object clothed

in gold that I see,

sitting,

and winning itself toward heaven,

where spin and air

are not taken

but assumed completely

heaven’s swinging all about

this; trees are shaking

with its crash the twice-more-

overed sound of honey baking

undulating wave tiding, coasting

the coast of sea and running

grass that’s sunning,

I’m drinking water singing

for this water’s

cool

and refreshing.

I’m sipping,

then gulping,

you see