Near You

 Of all the moods that sweep through my time
there is one- comes like waves of soothing music
they are thoughts that dwell with you
that linger and slow the flow of moments

with you i rise and fly, upon thermal lifts of desire
and passion-ed breath fills my chest like fire
and rebellions born of want, free me to dare
the chance of falling, to taste rare air
in the place near you


when you are hurt by my careless words
my unbridled fits and rage, then remember
the passion of days and sounds of our nights
when love eclipsed the sun
wishes made the stars obey
and we hungered for touch...

when I waited for you
in the deepest part of me and somehow
you softly and tenderly found my lips
and brought me to the place-- near you

a thought of love

 

Plague sweeps across lands
like the vengeful breath of God
It carries painful realization
that callous care bites the hand...

the lost brown babies
the cold cage floors
the tears of heaven

and the flames rise
the waters swell
and forgiveness is not seen

Today, a bright red bird
lit near my window, to taste
the scraps my lover left
it stayed ere long as i would stare
the colors filled my eyes,
awakened and aware, and feeling

It was a thought of love
in a time of dying

An Asymmetric Canopy

 Outside in the gluey air - hot August night,
the red maple stands as full as it can be
it spreads over the traffic lane and walkway
in an asymmetric canopy; I marvel
at the  seeming infinity of shiny leaves;  so dense
that the waiting beams of moon, Mercury,
and distant stars whose ancient light I'd see
are caught behind a wall of verdant density.

It is a snapshot of life and choices
that I watch one thing and listen
 to the voices of my past, coordinating
disparate things into an even more amazing being--
the thought-filled flow--the living river of life.

And while we do not touch, it's an illusion we trust,
the rivers within us seem to know each other
sharing flood and want, time and treachery, they know
the tug of the world ,the heat of the sun, and that all will end
that has even begun; and that patient water can carve
stony mountains that stand in its way.

All this as I consider the maple outside, and the fullness
of its branches in the hot August air, an asymmetric night

Sit with Angels

In the place where I sit with Angels
when  I recall the signs along my way
and I can open my throat to sing
a melody inspired by blessings

I can feel the eyes of my Nana
willing my happiness in every moment
I can hear my Mother's laughter
as she gently loved her son

I can feel my sister and her soothing words
healing  like a balm for my wounds
and I have known so many more
spirits that showed love that none can earn

Love is the gift of life; it connects
and never fades even as we do.
It is when we  God-like create
a thing that does not end.

In a place where I speak into the light
the home in the heart of my heart
where truth fills every thought
I speak my gratitude and beg forgiveness

and know there is an eternal tomorrow
for my faith is already there .

so say the fireflies

Listening to rain fall
upon the fiberglass roof
seems so much harder than it is
for the lighted dots glow in the night
and flirt under street lamp shines
in this hurried race of summer
the rain does not matter--
so say the fireflies.

I must pause and wonder,
where did it go?
when did i lose the slow sweat of July?

I know it is Canis Major above me
because my phone is Smart
And I know
the loving face of the moon hides
behind the night's showers and tomorrow's storms.

I know I am connected by an unseen web
that unites a disjointed world
but it is a summer night
that races when it should drip like honey

I sat and watched the news
[did God loose a plague?]
[are the brown babies still in the cage?]
and hear an unsettling roar
outside my front door painted bright
in flashing red lights
someone needs help...

[and time provides a great reveal
it slowly soundlessly peels the crusted covers
of our eyes. Like a bolt that breaks the night,
we are suddenly blinded by the sight of truth]


my skin knows
the weight of air, filled with
lotus and lilac, the fire flies know
the thickly night as summer races on

and i know the air is heavy
because here and everywhere it seems
so many say...
I cannot breathe

Dear George

You came to be
as someone's wish
By a mind set in a time of chains
and impossibility; held in a place
that was not home, and when home no longer was.
you were a wish for freedom and the possibilities of life

Now, you have folded your life
in a circle unbroken from then to now
the struggles of today and dreams of better tomorrows

Again, it is time for life to end while dreams extend
a reach of love for those still here and so many more yet to come

we -the remainder of the world you knew-
will carry on, speak your name, and witness the birth
of new purpose; exalting a guiding star-

It is a time that sheds tears of loss
from eyes that hold visions of victory

so all alone

Between the hours of five and six
on just another day that ends in "y"
the numbers swelled above 50, 000
in the age of corona virus.

on the air, there were talking heads
and much nonsense, and while few made smiles,
they were most comic.
The deaths counter rolled upward while
a company sold soap, a school sold futures,
and a pharmaceutical practiced medical heresy.

And in the minutes while the world whirled on
with its noise and new car deals,
scores more died [away from the senseless sounds my heart drifts
to the places where this thing exists]-- where they fade
Alone, alone, so all alone; alone on a ventilator.

Today we wear it, but I think
someday the curse will cease.
Perhaps we will learn and perhaps we will thrive
but there will many fewer alive to speak of these days.

There will be a time in the stillness and darkness of sleep
to atone for these heartless ways.
We will not be able to turn away.

So many goodbyes, wet eyes staring into
memories of love, with no one near
no one to hear last words.

while their faces will fill the dreams of the Angels of care,
and chase the peace of loved ones not allowed to be there;
the rest of us will wonder, did we care
so little for life or love.

Love in the Time of CV

I did not take down the Christmas tree;
it sparkles now in the warm April night
when my mood is mercurial like spring days.
It began in sunshine and ended in thunders and chill.
And the sparkling lights that trim the windows
and adorn the faux rafters are emblems
of a way of life that may never come again.

This morning, I had a dream, and
I laughed into a warm awakening.
Was you Sister Dear, come to talk in my dreams
as if you knew how much i missed you.
And i spoke to you about the plague;
we fell into laughter when i said:
they'd need a crew of strong men
to haul you out to the hospital care.

My belly heaved as we shared a joy
born of my love and yours,
of the fact that there is no part of my heart
that does not belong to you.

As my eyes slit to open onto
my New Life and her wide blue eyes.
She stared quizzically and smiled
that I would wake in laughter. Love
in the age of virus is a precious and grudging thing.

And so it was, on this hard day,
you Sister Dear touched me softly.
Not as a memory, but like the warming sun
from distance a gentle kiss on my cheek
a longed-for precursor that marked
the trail of a happy tear.