a comedy of creation

We take this Sun for granted
our familiar nearby star, the furnace
for the eternal winter in which we spin
endlessly- and along the swath it makes

We take this journey, as if not moving,
we travel farther and faster than
anything man has created, barely imagined
in our comedy of creation, where
deep space is the greatest stage
for petty, earth-ish adventures

No, we take this wonder for naught
it would be better if we ought send smoke
blessings and song in offerings
to a god of sun, goddess of moon
acknowledge the debt we owe
to the alternative of lightless cold

where we would simply be
unmade things, like every bit of latent energy
a mere potentiality waiting,
waiting, and waiting for a spark
that lights a star.

Upon the Chess Board

Kings fall and the games end

for one in defeat and one in glory.

It is a story told again and again;

joy in the taking, sadness in the rest.

The board holds a test of skill and will

to avoid the end until we can somehow begin—

overcome, rise against time and troubles...

It is so much like the way life can seem;

Balanced within the chess board is a game

bound tight with rules, each move a vivid possibility

but always given to full expression

is the freedom to fly or fail.

The Martian water

In an age committed

To petty conquest, so we

Who dream among stars are captive

Bound by the gravity of greed.

But knowledge grows

The need to be what we might

And the sight of the Red Planet so near

In bright summer night, we feel we might

Reach out and touch it

In time, we discover that in the great out-there

are the things that create life; this red dust world

has a history rife with mystery. Signs of watery worlds
once, and what used to be

Still might, be hidden beneath eons and red dust.

Ohh, the ache in the soul, the explorer’s breath

Rises from within, the need to be there

It rises without fault, and conscience suffers too

An unquenchable urge to touch…

The Martian water.

bend of the world

All up and down the Atlantic coast

Over Mountain and marsh, through mists and bright

They arch, tip wings and launch high, soaring

to touch incarnadine edges of deep blue sky

Feathered flight and effortless rise into twilight

beating a crescendo upon the windward air,

as powers of dusk and night swirl above

the slow crawl from day, its spirits yet rebel

against the tyranny of time; hosts of glimmered stars

begin to sing in tones of glows borne

to this countless chorus of far-away yesterdays

It is the blend at the bend of the world,

day folds into night, and parts of us that sleep in the sun

awaken to wash in starlight, to bathe in light fall cascades

of the moon.

side by side with Love

Asleep, my mind takes a long train ride,
and the passing scenes capture
pieces of imagination, so many small fascinations
grow; the chugging hill climbs remind
the rewards of struggle, and a view
of the lush valley treats the eye.

In slumbered wishes, this long train ride
leaves me side by side with Love
on green meadows that seem to pause the window
and wandering streams that catch sun beams
and remake sky colors, then curl among  mists
as  low clouds  cover bare-rock shoulders
of sumptuous curves of land.  Each recall
holds a place that we might share
as I watch and stare off, and gently away
into the imagined sphere
where our dreams...touch hands
















Inspired by: 
You Who Never Arrived 

by Rainer Maria Rilke


"You, Beloved, who are all
the gardens I have ever gazed at,
longing. An open window
in a country house-- ,..."

inertia

Man stirred the heart of the seas
and in air his poison tendrils, time agreed
with savants and sages, descendants of ages
of daunting prophesies

The blessing of foresight once again
a curse when truths curl like bitter smoke; in air
we can see but cannot form the will to care
more than the awful gleaners, takers who do not share
their gold and hold on words filling the air
waves of heat rise, and a solemn drumbeat
quickens.

Lightning flashes over forests turned to ashes
as vast lands lie charred into future birth
and present tears as years of enduring beauty fade
into black smoke and doubtful air, it curls
and clouds seen from oceans away
in dimmer days and gaudy sunsets, beget heat
a world smolders around the tender napes
of the intelligent apes, and they know
more than they show, know that truth too

lingers like heat on a day shimmered memories
foretold, how storms gather fire, and fires
send unreasoning flight of danger. No, we can
laugh now but it hurts, we can shrug
but it bothers the pricked memory
of so recent a yesterday, when the edge of the sea
held a calm memory, and rising waters
were an occasion for curious wonder
and not the salt and acid evidence
of  greed and plunder. It is time to ponder,
as shrill winds and bitter waters gather;
so many remedies we have squandered...

Some will count coins, some will hold
her trembled hand, and they will be seen
by the clear eyes that will grieve
the fate of  a murdered world.

its changeling air ...

september once again and the Fall
of the year begins just as the torpor
of heat and late running in the sun
settles in, we must turn

follow the dance of earth and near star
we sometimes joyful creatures
made for the ache of longing and
the happiness of finding
september is a crucible

we blend the missing past
the longed for tomorrw
for we can never hold a moment
and time bathes over us
a cascde from the river above
to the pool below and we are
constant in its flow

and september, its changeling air
tells us to make a warm place
for the coming cold

the nearest heart

Are you lost today? Floating on a blue sea

Drifting to the edge of sky and water

Lost among familiar sounds all out of place

amid faces that peek through  a haze-

meio perdida...uma pequena quebrada

But you are never lost, nor far away

You’ve made the world a smaller space

grown over with a bed of warmth

As I whisper a prayer,  a whimper fills

The following breath and it is as if air

Carries the weight of these moments too

When you see the nearest heart from a distance

Apart from touch, a space always just beyond

fingertips-Eu sussurro uma prece-

You feel lost but know, you have been found

in the warm, rising air lifted by love and prayers

and the world that knew you so well

waits and stores its other treasures until you

return from this troubled slumber

and awaken into the dream of life

you have gifted to all you have touched

mais uma vez- Eu sussurro uma prece
 

a precious heart

Lost within the woman’s eyes
That climb the castle’s walls

A dream of courage and valiantry
To define the shape of wonder and night
With moon witness, and silence above
Ancient tiles and parapets, a valley
Makes its steep call, awaits an answer

In tonight’s sleep the roll of thunders
Crowds the march to the centered scene
And the courage to seize
the heart of day yet to be drifts
as its heroes must find cause, to waken
a sleeping volcano in the spirit

Lost in the weight of passing days
Forgotten like the tides of lost seasons
Grayed embers lacking the breath of fire
A search without direction, lost, and lost again

Until the spark, a magic of momentary charm
That puts will in the inhale and power
To disarm sediments and rusted time
Boundless strength and unbridled will
Deepened faith to flatten the steepest rise
Follow visions of wonder, a precious heart
Treasure for a life’s keeping

Found there in the woman’s eyes
That climb the castle’s walls

a bittersweet joy

As if from beneath my pillow
to know a seed reaches for its glow
from warming thoughts and gathers
a will to be... uncurled within a shadow
of an inner light and loving
it sheds darkness

Bursts a world bathed in flavors of stars,
beneath a bared luminescence, suckles nurture
from passion touch; as the moon
translates emptiness into a patient wait.

The soft winds of urgent breath rises;
it swells the envelope of night
into a womb for dearest gestation.
Its needy fate turns the palms upward
a cup to be filled by a day of love,
and in bittersweet joy we realize,
it is all that we can hold...