Riftwalking
through serendipitous dreams
Disrupted echoes chase shadowsongs
Wheels of color turn in the water-sky
Pink papers scattered amongst autumnleaves
Whispering rivers speak to lover trees
White petals float by, windblown and bitten
look,
there: we're approaching a stream
i have never told you of these things
(they're whispers and stories from lumberjack dreams)
i'm a springborn kid, i have a wicked twist
into the wildfire thickets, by your wrist
i pulled you (heaven's bliss) and we kissed.
I
took a cool breath from that dreamer's sea, and looked down into the
abyss...
hundreds of noble blue leagues... as I hung from the ceiling of the
bottomless sky.
White sands blew like rolling waves in autumn-breeze, a winter's sigh.
From sunlit depths ageless, or aeons old, she whispers as a lover into
my ear,
Drawing me near, tempting a yearning soul... come deeper ... do not fear ... let go.
And I am standing on the tips of my toes, dying to fall into that sea
which blows...
And I know not (for no one knows) what ancient secrets autumn holds,
or where it takes those skyward souls... but my heart is smitten with
longing throes.
Forever she'll tease my spirit higher, kindling that slow-building fire
with windswept songs all lovers know: come
deeper ... do not fear ... let go.
conception
point, sky at my
back
solar corona, suspended matter
sandstone and swimming pools
azure sky, a sweet, simple sunset
tidal sol, clouds an orange hue
rip tides and wandering eyes
and in the sky, rip currents
cement and blue ice everlasting
empyreal sanctuary aloft, and below
men wandering won journeys
fractured and frazzled and fearless
...and
you lasted until at last you had to make your stand
for life, for everything you had loved, for how you had lived
and you will pass the man you have always been
with your wife of life eternal by your side, holding fast
to her life, her love, as she had lived it with you
as you go. the pain will fade, soon.
but you were the foundation, and you were the trusted stone on which
she leaned
you were the shelter, and a living road, and a legacy of a man from
which we've all grown
and he will take you, as you've often said
for you are ready, as you've often said
you've lived a happy life, as you've often said
there is no death bed, there is no place on which you're laid to final
rest
you've transcended this space, and will remain an eternal reminder of
love and faith
for everyone who has seen your face and known your ways
here, you will stay. but free now from these pains in your rest eternal
in eternal sleep
What's your justification for not having an explanation?
Living like felines on the balconies soaking in that silky breeze
Old cronies walking streetside aughing, weeping on the inside
Got something like cancer, happily but never ever-after
College, high school, middle schoolers hanging out by water coolers
Left their homes, e'ery summer break their parents break down in the wake
Smoking cigarettes and biting lip, dip in the ink for writing
it, got a sweetheart, got that likeness. Makes that life worth acting pious
Nightlight, hallway, crickets chirping, poor little ones are tossing, turning
Sometimes have to be persuaded that the sunshine hasn't faded
Fifty years will have them guessing, suffering every curse and blessing
Digging through justifications for not having any explanations
taking the moon in halves
slight sight warmed in hidden pools bull fire and oxygen granite and
sky a broken banister cob cut out doll houses emptied awaiting sunrise
fire and oxygen warmed in hidden pools wolves and whales spanning aeons
atomic structure of the tundra in slit eye transmogrification cambrian
explosion wind in my face ice slipping consciousness backseat hydra
heart exposed city lights taking flight envelope me infinity ant colony
uprooted filtered floodlights hit anxiety
world i embody howling fireplace windstorm winter moon in halves
awaiting warming pools bull sky howling wolves suns in bowls thick
woods dwelling amongst mourning dove morning heavy dew scent of sky in
spiritual downtime bitter grass blade mingled bloody tongue and copper
mine restructure destruct sleeping heavy eyelids carry water burden
falling into pilgrimage tears falling into tundra existence extinct
restructure mother nature's slit eye awaits sunrise fire and oxygen in
hidden pools.
I lay down my sword
And my silly hat
And my sheets evolve
Black to blue
Simple pleasures are
Tangled in wires
Feeding the core crying
"Guilt" and "shame"
Gifts and kisses
Hits and misses
Picture, story
Fuel to survive
Poem, song
Feel to survive
The sky was aware of your presence,
white and virgin and downpouring
And you were a child under blue tarp
In your dreams you were whisked away
To a hideous and seductive Giza
with man-made pools of unnatural hues
Glittering reflections of jade neon tubing
it wasn't half-meant mockeries or sought-after feelings
that won this heart suddenly, it was an old rhyme
with a thousand-lifetime promise inside it
and i cannot claim that these were graceful steps
i took them in time with my heartbeat,
which can be unforgivably clumsy
do not disown your soul because a stone sinks
skip them still, whisper a dream into each
why else do we sit on this pebble beach?
but to hope. but to try. but to wonder why...
I happened upon a fair girl crying
She held her knees to her chest and wept
I thought, what sadness suffers she?
And lo, great comfort did it bring to me
To see her heart, most vividly
I happened upon a fair girl crying
In the late of night, by lantern light
As the rain came gently falling
Lo, great comfort did it bring to me
To see it marry with her tears
These kinds of people are still around.
London Bridge hangings on the Berlin Wall,
Splinter of a cross burnt to the ground.
A barbed wire fence around the democrats fear
(you would have missed it if you were awake)
lives are at stake when the bell is near.
Columbos sailed the oceans black
in persuit of retro, which faded out.
For him and God there is no turning back.
The hums and buzzes of a busy house.
morning rituals of mastication,
then the skirt to match the blouse
for bosses standing overshoulder with glasses
Midnight classes at a nitelight plant.
Like insomnia and presidents, everything passes.
I remember penny and wheat
Fragrant as an autumn leaf
Tucked behind ear and blushing cheek
The sky is heavy, dark nimbus-laden and creeping slowly towards the earth from the heavens. The air is a thick, salty-sweet clamminess, foreshadowing the coming storm. Thunder erupts from the stillness and resounds, muffled but bold, intensifying with the passing moments. Long, flat leaves are burdened with humidity and heat, but they seem hopeful in the cooler breeze rushing in to herald the front. The scene is altogether tropic, but the sun cannot make such a climb here. There is the sound of a car door, and footsteps. Could it be?
I meet her at the foot of the stairs, and she looks wilder than usual, more aware and alive. Her eyes startle me, they seem to miraculously catch the obscured sun's light and reflect it to me in shimmering pools of color. She hasn't changed, but she carries herself lightly and with grace. The first words to pass her lips are calculated, meant, sincere. She tells me that she loves me, and that she doesn't know where she's been. I know, ella fue perdida, muy lejos. The storm carried her in. She loves me, she loves me.
We were lost, both of us, in our ways. We made clumsy attempts at love. But it had never faded. And now, years of silence passed, years of stumbling and tears, and what we feared was a lifetime of detatchement and faded glory, all passed... she was here, the storm blew her in. I didn't ask her any questions. I only smiled. She had prior to coming to that doorstep been a child, and she came to me a woman. Her confidence a glow about her. Mi dama, she wears a nimbus now. She's come to take hold of life.
collecting fallen autumn petals,
focused in my religious duties
i'll string up the fall, this is not
'for a while,' i haven't smiled
like this since i was a child, and this
this is the heart you love true
a messenger dressed in blue
this is a pilgrim, a pauper, a gypsy heart,
these are the fingers that pulled you apart
shoelaces trip you now
it's better to do without
where once there were cold machines,
we now walk in earthy green
still though my body is, watching enviously as you move, i am not still
the contents of my heart are the translations of your movements
from raw experience into awareness into thoughtform the driving
force behind the tongue and the fingertips and the english language
from the raw motion i hear and smell and taste in the air
enigmatic nostalgia emnating from south america or
cooler salty winds enveloping and chilling the twelve apostles
on victoria's southern shores, or i recall that once on a rainy day
i watched cargo planes come and go from a military base
behind the swaying trees and considered for the first time that
there was love in the most mundane of all times and places
We taste like rain and look like a million acres of space
Why waste this place? We are honored kith and sacred kin
We bathed in the starlight in mirror water, while
ageless highways sang and sold us on what they told
of the irresistible qualities of prairie wind
And it was then, following you into the fox's den
That these words came to my lips, then, and now again
You taste like an endless row of streetlights and sing
As if those timeless things were recurring dreams
Beneath those winterborn eyes, smiles birthing tradewind sighs
Caustic noxious substance burning
eyes imbued green speckled blues
Corroded by a flood of chemical tears
Streamlined industrial holocaust
The sacrifice? our future rights
And the beauty of our mortal flesh and blood
Stench of slaughter, run-off wastewater
Processed poisons on the shelves and
Toxins pumped into the public supply
Still some will make a case for global propagation of these sins
Still some will make a stand for further ventures into mankind's end
Riddling sphinx, you see it in my mirror teeth
Precious metals pulled from beneath your sands
Your wire hands hold to the glass reflecting
The same blue sky under which her knights fell
Her knights of great conquest from menial pasts
Under the same sky, gleaming armour buried fast
By ever-shifting waves of sand, holding fast!
For my god I am eager, a fortune seeker
of One immeasurable bounty. A wealth of
emptiness, a spirit still. These hands
make preparation, this heart (in the dawn
of all days, a silent spring) awaits on
the edge of a dream the glory of unification
awaits in the barren deserts for purification
will not awaken for any other. I must
recapture the essence and assemble the
clues of a spirit once discarded into the
sands - and all moments imbue with this
glimpse of my god.
I've been looking for a tangible
and measureable self to hold amid my
repoitore of emotions and memories
But one cannot own himself.
This is returning to the source.
Who was I before I was born?
Neither words nor silence can explain.
Tell me which way the wind blows
Shifting dunes. Time. True.
I'm a paper flute, you're the midnight moon.
I'm ever the hypocrite, ever my own...
And if I could be comfortable enough in my skin to shed it
I would let it fall for you- I'm just tied to these walls
They've got years on us, they've seen my best and worst
What pain I've beaten into them I've only whispered aloud
What fears that bled into them aren't something of which I'm proud...
Not aloud. Not to your face.
If I could sell this struggle and just live in a state of perpetual
bliss, charm and grace
I would, even if against my better judgment
You see I've never known glory, and if it came to my door
I'd lock the dead bolt and pretend I wasn't home
Whether or not I was happy there, questioning not the root of the fear
For ages I've stood like this, a still secluded pond, ignorant of myself
Storing my heart's fire in a jar on the shelf
Blown to brightness just to be stifled
Blown to brightness and stifled once more
Repeating this process for life
Forever, never, stifled once more
And over the river lies a quiet frontier
The living trees are aged and towering
and the dead are still a healthy green,
grown over with vine and myriad life.
The tongue of the river is muddy
And it's parasite city a glorious and pretentious hovel.
While the Eastern expanses lie unadorned
save for the land's own (scarred) beauty.
The heritage is in the felled trees
felled by man or machine or mystery
And the heritage is a thick green sleeping
within the farmfield and concrete tapestry.
Bitter angels cast down from your own heavens
Playing your funeral dirge, experts of your own hurt
If it helps you mend, to seek satisfaction in waiting for the end
Let me tell you: Each day, I kiss the ground
Each day I appreciate and give thanks for what I've found
If love was blind, then what now do you see
But darkness and your own impossible suffering?
What hope can one egotistical martyr give another
But to further your spite, and pose in this as your brother?
When at last you exhale into "I don't know, I don't know"
You will be as preserved and pristine and cherished as the snow
Destroy all titles, you and i and she are only grains of sand,
forget these words, if forgetting helps you understand.
listen to the sound of liquid cool it's
like a tin man falling down a stairwell
and maybe that makes it up to you
when you choose which bricks to begin with
well, layer them thick! (i'm not here to test you,
i'm so ageless and tired, you know that
you're a kitten to me, such a playful thing
and i'm jealous, but i can laugh it off, cat)
i'm plentiful, and i'm made of faces
but i've never moved, i'm like these pages stuck
in the binding, and my secrets are snug
between the lines, and those kisses i snuck
(well, just hit rewind if i took too much)
The base sense, the canvas pulled taught and let loose
Glowing red electrostimulus in the wake of the fingertips
The butterflies and crickets bring you to me
As ambassadors of distant love and dreams
On a cool day, when the sky is most blue
The song of the rustling leaves, me to you
No longer do I merely exist
I offer my soul for a single wish
(To you), to love, to live again
Soul exposed to the pressure of light, and smoke-filled blasphemies won't hold up tonight.
I've got conciousness expansion but it's losing water fast. Memories that won't last. Spread too thin.
I've got trembling hands like water - I lost myself where I started in this garden of green, I don't fit this scene.
Choking on what itself once breathed - Today in a daydream I watched them breathe,
out of the passenger window I watched them breathe, into the hilltop mist I watched them breathe,
and into the valley I saw. I swear it wasn't misty, and junkyards that smell like cotton candy were there to deceive.
I've got it right, here before summer seduces the night, in blistering heat and blazing light,
I'm warmer than a Christmas Eve, I believe. Summer hands slip, earth dragged down, gravity folding land,
and the blue and the brown and the grass. No more storms or pretty songs, I let them down.
Kind of want to, seek to, think it best to crush the circle, walk the mile in between to find something.
I wish I had a ribbon to tie to this thought, before its bought out, before it's naught.
Breath taken, when there's nothing left
Some place, empty space, nothing to say
This peace between sheets of sky and sea
Nothing to be, time alive, moving fine
Power lines, spoken sweet, you and me
Growth in passion, when there's nothing here
Words of this - peace - but what we miss
Tethered to us, tangled vines, you and I
Broken rhymes, sunny skin sweet as wine
Painting shadows, sleep in hollowed time
Kiss to greet, no sin to be, kith and kin
How it shall be.
I had a myriad of thoughts of boat docks
And places between nowhere with white walls
Scrubland vantage points to see it all
Satellite dishes however far on the horizon
(Well she says we're not far now)
I gaze at night lights through a kaleidascope
Of plastic with eyes of soap, gaining hope
On the grounds that we're not tall enough
To see city lights they've argued against us
But hills like these are meant for a breeze
Like a glancing blow, something they'll never know
My horizon is a child's one, and I know it well
Like a child knows infinity before learning to count
It's not in the papers, it's on the ground
Something for learning, whatever it is
Growing like grass in an unkempt field
Shivering like stone, like something real
There is no honor in perspective
or the supposed merit of observation;
There is no beauty in the eye of the beholder
And no beauty beyond "it" in "that" which is beheld.
Whatever visions we have are fleeting, forgettable
when held in comparison with the color of sand
Whatever wonder witnessed, pitched by shadow of sun
Or greater illuminations swallowed up by the dawn
Reality is omnipresent yet embodied by no words
It is the birth of all tongues yet has none of its own
And mother of all vision is as blind as is dumb
A glance at the sky rattled my soul today...
It ached with guilt of betrayal, having gone astray
What little paths such certain ways erode
Yet likely no more certain are those paths
(Are they not all bound and silent like dungeons?)
I envy the pathless traveler, devoid of this need
To know not colors, or seasons, or smells
Or the taste of stone or sound of life
To be barren like wasteland, bare like a thread
What visions have I held as true, real, or my own
Some abandoned, some outgrown, since birth
Until death, my mind, crafter of illusions
Life! Had I fled from the moment, had I let it slip...
If I ever made you feel alone
Like being sick on a sunny day
Waking up at noon to an empty home
And sleepy voices on the radio
If I ever made you feel alone...
I had a dream of wildflowers forsaken in a field
Of a thousand acres of farmland; crops that never yield
I saw hearts blossoming white into hollow thorn-apple
I'll keep you in a book
of photographs bound
in cloth, with shoestring
about it tightly wound
When I leave, I just hope
I don't end up somewhere
Like Christmas lights strung
On june trees, stars hung
Amid the darkened pines
Dressed to the nines for naught
I just hope I'm not as worn out
as the pastel ribbons
tied to balloons that speak
of a futile dream to fly
from the parking lot
of used cars yet to be bought
I just hope I'm not as empty
as the sunset over the quarry
That vague somewhere
Full of dusty breath and heat
This is my prayer for the road
And the photographs I'll keep
in place of your presence
bound in cloth, with shoestring wound
Hoping I don't end up somewhere
When I leave, I just hope....
.
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