a found feather

Above the sand

wind and gull cackles blend

sea spray rainbows, prisms in sunbeam glints

I squint into horizon, where sky blue melts

cloudy bands at the edge of the world.

In a taste of salt, memory of sand upon skin

mind lifts my spirit to hover, cupped wings

tilted to catch the solid seams of moving air-

a weightless metapoise: man into bird, wishes

dissolve bird into wind song.

Upon a current stream, a flow of deep desires

carried to a place near your lips,

to make a soft moist rush of air

touch your smile, just while

a feather falls near your feet

to catch your eye, and find … a memory.

rise...

 Even when I might become weary
yield to difficulty  a too steep climb
there is no rest, no pause to consider,
the place behind me...disappears.

Even when I might wish for yesterday
a time without challenge, conquered ground
there is none, only a next step- nothing granted-
in hourglass life every grain of sand
falls into contest, into a great divide
between what might be and what becomes.

Within a heart in search, a vision was found
on the face of a slow flowing stream, the Moon
made a flame upon water...and I keep it
as the glow of a distant face of love;
as I rise.

after a kiss

sometimes
i wonder what is the meaning of touch -
lips to lips, face to fingertips
I sense as a mirror,
giving all of one dimension,
but in completeness there is absence
sometimes i wonder...after a kiss

how might i see myself when loving you?
what do i feel when seeing you?

Sometimes when we love
when i sense your wetness in a pool of sounds-
i want to be outside too- and when
we rise together in a crescendo
i would stop, hold a penultimate edge.

It is both strange and wonderful,
such layers and veiled complexities--
as if a universe of thought, flowed like a river
and I am caught in currents --in these moments,
being with a woman.

Connecting...

My restless spirit speaks low

connecting yesterday and tomorrow

like  mortar between layers of brick

resting atop the past in wait for my hands

to place evidence of the present

We live within a miracle of thought and matter,

by avenues of insight and reason

to fathom endless depths of existence--

of possibility, seamless and boundless.

We create within things

seemingly created for us-

custom fit to vast possibilities of pulse and breath.

The ends of mystery slip away as we reach;

life teaches and we learn

by bitter tastes and honey drops.

And then there are simply moments

in which I can rest, in the endless sea of stars;

or when moon dazzles tides-in a million moments of truth-

or in the last time…I saw your eyes

summer dance...

Moon eyes,  so they seemed,

gentle like the rise of night

when dusk gives way to dreamy ways

when rest means more than effort

when we seek solace of our wishes

and wonder if in this night’s heat

passions find us again…

In a slow dance like the way we reach-

joined in time and place to another-

to make a bridge of warm wet air;

I watch her dance, and moon eyes speak

as in the silence of soft silver beams

of mysteries sought and found in her face

as if beauty answered each question—for now

Moon eyes float above a seductive dance

and a hot summer night, begins to steam…

seven fifteen...

Across sky

time gives birth to day

flow of morning light and cloud -

strands and filaments, roses into violets;

on breath-brush of wind,

a moment simply felt

from eyes to dry lips

I am humbled by beauty…

my thoughts float to you-

a moment in your eyes,

a soft word in the air between us;

and I am there on a city street

dry lips and…so humble

there, you are

 

A pale blue afternoon moon

tilted half afloat in God’s own blue sea

I wonder of you - half this world away-

if  this were what you’d see?

Perhaps, clothed in darker shades of evening

embraced by glows of distant stars

Moon listens to you- sister soul, ever

eager for warm breath of thoughts.

When you are in ebony, I in blue; reach

beyond the tides of this day

beneath the skin of all we touch

inside the tremored roar of busy life,

there is the voice that speaks all one knows.

There…you are

remembered from moment to moment,

whispered soft, sung aloud—you are

the poetry that lives within my words.