short takes...

Morning Gulls

dawn punches holes in early autumn
as day's beginning grows so lazy, it crawls
into an empty Mall parking lot, makes a scene
cackled rattles of gulls long separated from the sea
argue boisterously, noisy rites for trashy sites with
unsightly residue


Morning Man

eyes find cracks and seams, and exogenous lines of water;
last night's rains barely came, but night lightning
and thunders filled the silent spaces of dreams
as movie plots and conversational what-nots
sidled into play; the libido rests not and every hot image
blends into a hidden wish, lust is like this...holds him
like mortar between bricks

Morning Coffee

steam recalls a piece of last night's dream, and moist heat
begs the fog's retreat and day to begin; unwanted
this expenditure of precious time-- it could be better spent
chasing wishes that come so urgently...
after the morning coffee.
After thoughtful sips dwindle into tasteless drips
when the ghosts of forgotten hours, rise
to haunt the day

in my heart ...

You live in my heart, a place of thought

Wherein I cannot deny things

I accept as truths

It is resistant to the gravity of logic and convention;

It has the magic of wishes, and the powers

of divine creation.

I was... before I was born, and to that place

from which I came, I shall truly return,

And You

Will be there with me, matched

in the vault of my treasures, among

the gems and jewels of my existence.

You

who loved me on your splendid nipple

You who lifted me from fragile youth,

and You who loved me through this body

as if it were my eternal soul

All of You

The bricks and mortar

of the house my spirit calls home

the firmament on which I stand

When there is nothing of the world,

and nothing made of matter; there will be

All of You, and the me...All of You have made.

fitful sleep

In the older ways, when in far simpler days,
faith was easy; spun beneath a gentle sun
a greener world- its greater evils
seemed long done - and the
reward of virtue was simply...itself.

Now, comes the time when faith is hard
because it can neither pardon waste's gravity,
nor explain depths we can see- precious life
cast aground blithely, like spoiled water.

Then one must see, for all the things men do,
the errors of the present and failings they rest upon,
for the whole of our arts are in the takings.
We spill precious existence as if it were wastes
Yet, we can restore neither life nor water,
cannot create air nor constitute the fishes
that sometimes fill the boats.

For all that we can do
brings little of that we need.
We yet prosper by gift; for all pretense,
mankind  is still a vagrant seed
fallen into fertile ground to grow.

Now, we take more than given,
by depth of greed we foul the air
and curse the ground, and faith
takes a trembling refuge
in fitful sleep and troubled dreams.

journey...

In morning sun, the clouds hold gold and gray,
its deeper blues relieved by harder graft;
as if to choose which role the day shall play.
Life's journey is a slowly savored draught

As time unfurls the sails, this fragile craft
can glide through wilted hearts, along the way
the rising sun sets upon the fogged waft
to blend into a white and blue bouquet.

As bolder beams become a golden shaft
the will holds firm, and does not fall astray.
The rushing waters calm, in shallows draft
where muddy shores give way to arid clay,

to gaze upon the solemn desert lands,
an ancient river’s womb, these burning sands.

lesser stars

When we love, a seed deep within
begins to blossom, we reach for
a warmer Sun; we grow
in ways we could not otherwise do.
It is the beauty of love, and it rises into life.

When I see the rain of my care
and she becomes a flower in the desert;
a blossom in defiance of pitiless sands
a rebellion upon the waterless earth
a power to be where nothing else might

We hold a  blessing of time
before the fall into night;
it is as the power of tides
upon the greatness of the seas.
It cannot not lift weight of a world
but it changes the face that holds
a thousand pieces of the moon
and the fall of lesser stars.

songbird

Amidst a sudden storm, in pause of wonder,

as lightning fades to soft echoes of thunder,

I hear the wind-filled trees in rustled whispers
through morning fog, the cawing crow call lingers

Where does the honeyed voice of love belong,

and does the silken songbird love the song?

Or does she rise to simply set it free...

As inner fires find bright melody

the final spark of want ignites to light

a moment, which spreads velvet wings to flight.

A deeper spirit bond won’t let her be,

But I think aloud...she is just like me;

A restless silence that could never stay,

 a searching heart that would never obey.

sounds...

fishing pond...
a snowy egret dips low into
sounds of lapping waves

tossing ...
thoughts leap into the sounds
creaking floors

wet sandals...
she smiles into the sounds
dripping rosebuds

above the shawl...
whispered prayers into the sounds
her nursing babe

prelude to light

In a dream of flight,

which came to solitary night,

a rainbow encircled the Sun;

And suddenly I knew

it was always thus, so true

legends of gold fallen to one.

As the flight unfolds-

no longer tired nor old-

I rise, indifferent to direction;

glad to soar, gaze from above

gathered within, all of my Love

the greatest work my life has done.

Deep and slowly run

a river's journey once begun

a wandered web, which time has spun

bonds of endless light,

exceeds the reach of darkest night.

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summer hokku

gazing on the slope...
listening as the east wind
interprets the clouds

rolling waves...
dressing and undressing
the shores at dusk

a rainbow
circling the golden sun ...
finds itself

the sparrow and the fishes

There was celebration, in usually quiet congregation

hand-clapping thundered, and rose to rafters.

Bits and chips of leaded paint fell,

like confetti, or moments of immense sincerity,

and Walmart said Amen!

The God of Lesser Corporations,

HIS children reborn, artificial bodies filled-

Transfiguration, spirit to cash-mere flesh,

with life and blood more real than menstruation.

In gloried Halls like Valhalla

rituals profound as Jehovah's, witness to

an awakening, the freedom to be

life and breath entities, by a Godly Court

a decree of  life from ink and paper.

The Spirit of God

moved upon the face of  articles of incorporation

let there be life...

and Walmart said Amen!

Wither the woman, vessel of saints and saviours

your choice to live in an era of manly–men.

Virtue can corrupt the Judges, when measured

by faith in penises. Cast wide the net

and capture every offending fish

for they have thoughts of freedom

choice a voice which interferes
 with the dearer freedom,

the favorite of the law, and only God saw

the sparrows and the fishes

 For the sparrow wanteth not and

 like the fish, thrive in floods of love,

thrash and run in tides of caring,

gathering scraps and pieces of life
 into loving existence.

They boldly hold... 

“there shall be no more waterless sky nor airless water”!

The manly-men scoff, for in sound petition
hallelujahs rise among them, called for Profits

They bare knives and forks for feast and care not
for drought or things beneath the waters.

They know, choice is on the wing of the sparrow

and in the wish of the multiplied fish,

and Walmart said Amen!

_______________________________________

The U.S Supreme Court has ruled (Burwell vs. Hobby Lobby) that for-profit corporations can have religious beliefs; and  which beliefs can excuse them from obeying the laws that apply to them.  While the ruling purports to limit itself to reproductive rights, it does not. This ruling has changed the law into a place where wealth and privilege now have powers to dictate a selective assortment of behaviour controls and morals. In effect it extends and ratifies private efforts to control American citizens.