Driving arctic valley road
early morning, silence of deep snow
grey winds collide with windows
impossible how snowflakes fall
haunting songs, play my radio
winding on a north country road
branches lay heavy, low
snowy owl calls
further the winter
drives deep, my soul
further the winter
quiet valley of snow
that drives me
home
I shall not come in from outdoors, I am deep in storms
watching waves of clouds, pitching black skies
the beauty of raindrops makes me cry
wet washing, my soul reborn
I am gone, traveled through the storm
tossed and torn, now resurrected from
the ashen fire, my heart
of crystalline
When you go by
floating the way you do
tonight, beneath brightest moons
airy you’ll fly, don’t have to try
while I, made of fire
flicker awhile awaiting
only your breath of air
souls bared, together
alas we shall build
flame red skies
Along this pilgrimage made
with candles lit by the sun, vast desert communion
seeking connection to the one, here in this fiery church
where I have found lost souls, sun bleached bones
drinking of sun and moon, coyote haunting calls
saguaros wandering to and fro
all are parched for water
cactus leaning, I am kneeling
here at this earthly altar
awaiting resurrection
I have come to pray
watching nights and days
like fires, burn away
I have traveled home
I am nearly reborn
sitting with ancestral bones
a warrior’s path – alone
sifting veiled dust
of the past
Crows fly, blacken skies
thunderous drums
my heart in sync
amid this sacred
burial ground
this raining red sky
the blood of teardrops cried
Sacred dawn
Oh, sure I could lose myself in gardens, oceans of flowers
but not today, today I have reserved for the revelations
of the soul, the deep calling of watery waves
I dive below, rocky ways and slipping sands
sifting moments of this day, searching
for unknown pieces, that break away
feeling a longing unnamed
glints of gold reflections
all these connections
that carry me home
and away
In those days we shined, reflected like mirrors
pebbles thrown, ripples wind blown, your heart
it was silk upon my lips, soft butterfly wings
we grew like trees, to the clouds
in downy feathered love
floating amidst the fleeting sky
of our sunset – leaving
How can I ever paint the sky with mere words?
my language, pales northern lights
waves of color impossible to derive
from ghostly glowing skies
spirit merges, flies
Giant skyward leaning
shedding leaves, do you dream long
of summer’s greening?
The gold of days have waned
the gray rains sway
fall will leave you
cold in winter’s lay.
Seemingly a thousand years old
a seedling sown
born of an ancient
maple forest.
In this world
starry eyed, we bloom
petals silk your lips, sing
sweet violet songs to me
a drifting scented dream
blue sea of you and me
When after night has flown, starry blue
to other lands, until tomorrow
when just before the light of dawn
in streams of gold upon the lawn
the world still violet hued, pinkish blue
soon bursts on fire, a blaze of red
silence is the wind upon the clouds
silence of colors, the sky speaks aloud
rearranging the mind, the heart like petals
of a million flowers all abloom
Gone,
the warm summer grass we laid upon
in daisy dreams of gold, yellow suns
today walking barefoot on the lawn
cool rain awakes the autumn dawn
dewdrops disappearing in the ground
a chill has come with breath cold lungs
to breathe upon the earth and trees
bringing summer’s fire to her knees
and with a final gasp will swallow
molting leaves red and gold
falling to the earth
fallow
Waterfall, the swell of rains will come
fierce a wind that takes our breath and then is gone
the mad sailing, that leaves us to the wild seas
borne of oceans, ripped away, lost to vacant longings
we wait the temperamental moons of coming, going
always seeking for other shores, anchors
to hold our souls, unchained, reclaimed
in foreign lands, hearts to mend
and still another storm
will come
rustic rain
brown-yellow hills
crows circle a carrion kill
I’ve come for resurrection to bleed against the sky
thirst of deserts longing, cool water washings
bones, abandoned skulls – sun bleached white
prayer offerings for an earthy altar
here where death is hallowed
How kind the early day came
smiling through our window
soft as yellow, pale blue shone through
lavender infusions of deep indigo
a scented morning tea, this herbal garden
awake from dreaming, night is weaving
it’s final star into the dawn
we are sleepy as flowered penstemon
waiting for the gold of sun
our hearts open
lotus flowers floating
ever peaceful
this tranquil
pond
I am lost in mourning winds, a desert sand drift
a dandelion wisp buried in ocean depths
an emptiness in the blue of longings
this traveling is slow mud, I trudge
blue red fields of life’s blood
the disappearing of the ones I love
they have flown far and gone
leaving me to linger
looking for the sun
the moon to come
and so I walk on
Oh, bird how can you sing?
and today of all days you bring
little twigs and colors green
to fall among dead flowers.
Do you know of this lost garden?
How can your heart beat so
amidst such troubled, sorrow?
Still you fly joyous in the morning sky
lighting hearts afire in the early dawn
long before the sun.
Walking the dirt path, down around
the gold brown hills that spill into the orchard
apples baked in the oven, sun of summer
and in September they are done
red, we dressed with honey, cinnamon
the air was bliss, the trees, the ancient harvest
with baskets full and too our hearts had overflowed
this was a place we called heaven and now you are in the trees
in the sweeping fields of turquoise seas, in the stars that never cease
here, where you once imagined and could only dream to remain as ever
Dedicated to my brother Curtis and all those departed from the earthly plane
When I wait for northern lights, absent is the moon
and too the sun has gone, silence of blue green lights come
like colored ghosts of whirling skies, they fly
and I no longer think of night stars
I can only dream to fly, to shine
magenta in magnetic fields
But tonight it is you
that burns across, beyond the heavens
dazzling brilliantly, now beyond this earthly plane
to join a symphony of seas and stars out there, unknown
gathering in the ethers of forever
Last night I dreamed of you
smiling, as you laid
in green fields laughing
and tonight I will see you
in the northern lights
shining
Dedicated to my dear brother Curtis, who passed away this morning.
It has been a difficult year, with the death of my Father in Jan and now my brother.
Cedar tree, your arms wild in the wind
red bark, blue rain that comes again
storm drenched, looking where we’ve been
sponge mud footprints left herein
and in the gold of days there is incense, sunning
warmth soaking the green forest in
a path leading outward
that leads back in
whispers awaken the
soul within.
Stars at night, long the hours
watching animal spirits deep in the wooded wilds
tracing circles round the moon, glowing
translucent spiders weaving webs
floating at the edge, before diving in
oceans of sailing green seas
waves newly born, bright as sparks
lightning in the dark, igniting hearts
fiery blue, water too, the earth and air runs through
basking in other worldly realms of moon
with hearts, pure white where lilies bloom
home, where the soul of the sea is borne
drenched in storms of falling star seas
yours is a place wilder, than these.
Wind, wind it came in
I was glad it did, the way it blew
around my heart and through
a place of hollow blue, a storm
warm of drumming beats in sync
went swirling round my head
a flutter of butterflies flew on
through morning fog
a song was heard of
leafy trees and birds that speak
connecting me once more
the breeze that blows
to shake the soul
of me, quite free
all the day listening
to the earth
and all the ways
of wind
After some time, there are no words spoken
only an awakening in the silence
of a blue light dawn, a moment
where stars linger on
a portal is found
where the soul
lives on
and on
Ages have gone with all the colors run
shadows of a northern home
a memory in sepia with dust upon the mantle
a woman’s face behind the veil
the evening light streams in.
The room in layers golden, yellow
how strange a glow that lights her face
and faint a smile’s revealed.
In the garden, a bird, a flower
gold the edge, gold the dawn that hovers
a song of summer, a tiny sparrow perched
long upon the woody yarrow, that musky fills the air
a redolent warmly breeze, brushes by the maple trees
caressing sweet the singing leaves and breathes the air of heaven
in the gold of a halcyon summer
beyond the hills of sage, grey plumes
the stark blue sky cloudless looms
and sings with birds in lilting waves high above the field
they break the silence in a world transformed
a song – void of man’s ordinary words.
I am delirious, lingering from days
frayed at both ends, especially the head
and knotted in the middle, a rope tightened
round the heart, squeezing beats out
in stops and starts, oh but this how
we play the game, it’s sweaty palmed,
brow furrowed fun, with far too many clocks
cold halls to walk, amongst holy ghosts
tearing through white sheeted rooms, they haunt
or sometimes they bring invisible healing
placing flowers in colorful rings
and garlands circling round the bed
and in the night, only blue white light
to fill a room, basked in love
a tattered heart to mend
Where sleeps the crescent moon
and drifts bright stars away
to bring a song of light
glowing from a thicket there
where tawny birds take flight
or dappled in the wooded trees
foggy breathes the morning light
with rousing sounds of faeries there
drowsy in their dreaming cares
they bid farewell unto the night,
to stars that sail swift into the evanescent light.
Now springs another day from this woodland place
soft with mossy grays or starry lichen lace
green the leafy ferns will wake
with scented rains, wet upon the bark
incense cedars drift and swirl
sweet, the air of smoke
until alas the sun, so brilliant comes
from behind a clouded cloak
and disappears once more
the dawn that softly spoke.
It was only ever flowers, in a meadow wild
tangled tendril vines, of blue eyed passiflora
caressing stems of blooming heart, delicate dicentra
shining silver in early summer, a pond of silken mirrors
leafy vines of garland rings, nature weaved
perfectly a tranquil scene of bonny swans
float silently amidst fallen petals
soft nests of downy feathers, wispy on the winds
that a woodland summer drifts on
Wound
Today walking the cut off road, home
watching clouds and birds disappearing
all these moments of coming, going
I came upon feathers of a flicker, brightest orange
and further on the road, his body
and wondered of his dying
and if he was freer in death
or in flying
Of my own life I pondered
the fleeting moments of freedom
so much lost in the sinking sun of youth
difficult to find amidst a hurried life
fewer and farther in between
to breathe, a restless mind
settling in a silent stream
and when shall come the hour
a moment to be free
Walking with you
petals, leaves in threes
looking triangularly
do not pick them, please
Deathly quiet all the sky, distant black, pitching
birds, sudden screeching turns, disappearing
windows rattled, beneath banging shutters
awaiting the pain of centrifuge
a house, like glass to shatter
shards of cutting winds
Woods, the birds on branches, swing
words, the forest trees, will sing
of summer winds, a leafy song of green
blue the sky is painting, not a cloud
only the sparkling of sun, a song
of mosses warmed, a fragrance undone
black and fuzzy yellow bees, circle hypnotically
tiny hunters, drunk with pollen, disappearing
in the tiger lily towers, and fly they
home to serve a sacred queen
all the day, the sweetness
of gathering honey
Soft the silver needles
falling to the ground, tiny boughs
wet with misty raining seas dampening
dark the forest trees, late in summer
call of early morning
blue the sky, blue the salty cry
of sailing seagulls
this breadth of day
brief a moment
hovers, then
flies away
after the storm
an efflorescence
still drips the air
still the rain so near
only, just here
earth of fire, quelled
where a storm seeps in
copper veined, iron blood
burning blue this place
of redolent warmth
unseen
In the warmth of a summer forest
I sat in the mossy scented air so low
quietly still, as silent raindrops fell
my woodwind breath of music, floated
as I remembered how to breathe
awakened in my soul, a well of joy and sorrow
it came in waves, to flood the heart, it’s empty halls and chambers
a wave of grief soon surfacing, and I with nowhere else to run
was made to feel, letting the wave take me, a wet washing of tears
cry of locked away fears – deep to feel
of my hidden soul, a truth revealed
how sacred a moment, a place to heal
It came softly warm, mist of fragrant showers
bright flowers of parchment petals, drank
of sun, of moon, of rain
a world glistening, silent
as perseid shooting stars
falling from a sea
of heavens
There is only a flashing, of soul
a susurrous echoing, hidden, hushed away
in the running down of slipping sands and fall of dreams
an ocean of water washing waves, bury and uncover
one cannot ignore it’s constant call
an ache, beautiful a sorrowful longing
deep, calling you home
you are gorgeous in turquoise blue
a swirling of oxidation, transformation of warm reds
you are ocean water colors, deep in rocks, in canyon waterfalls
like the changing light of eyes, chameleon colored
ancient, elemental
essential
Ilion Gray, such a cool name
I love the name Ilion – Ilion Gray
I wonder is it his real name
it looks like it could be, his name
though I’ve never known an Ilion
never read poems by any other Ilion’s
his name fits perfect, his poems, exquisite
and today I see him posted on the front page
a prince of words, a master, a sage
I think he lives in NY, probably downtown
I bet it’s loud, I love the way he writes like that
I wonder what kinds of things he does, in summer
or winter, I know he has a cap, but does he have coat and gloves
I wonder how many times, he fell drunk in love
he probably reads poetry on a stage, a pastiche word parade
a lyrical brigade, loaded and fired, finishing with a bow
yeah, I bet Ilion is writing a killer poem right now
a million petals ago, in colored meadows
stems, gathered in far off fields
windy, wild born
bright pods of summer
split in August suns
earth bound, await
September floods
cool, foggy rains
cycle of rebirth
wildflower seeds falling
back to earth
When we were endless green
When we were very far
and there were never any roads, no star lights strung, to follow
only a winding path, a branch to grasp
a place to fill the hollow
blue the summer, with drowsy daisies came
petals, petals, we drew circles round the sun
gold spun, our halo heads of pollen
gold, the bees of sleepy flowers, fallen
they, seeking clover grass, heaven
days we lived deep in hills
we were endless green, in countries never mapped
stretching past the farms afield, in other worlds
borderlands, too far to see, beyond the gray of days
and we were ever free, in the shining silver
of our hallowed hills of sun
Eyes, crystalline, shine awake
newborn suns stream, blue light
mists of fog breaking through
cool breath, of forest’s wet
steaming bark, clouds of water smoke
trees breathe deep, drinking dawn
mosses warm in wooded sun
raven call penetrates the soul, an ageless echo
pulse of forest drums, awake my heart
in birded rhythmic song, connection, meditation
I am home, I am home
How the rains came
wild blue in waterfall tears
magenta orchid clouds to wear
Oh, the tropical winds
leeward, an ocean blowing in
plumeria flower waves
a blissful turquoise bay
lay of fragrant floral sands
warm breeze to carry
this wild ocean breadth
far and off to foreign lands
Breath of life, it is a wild ocean
always a tide coming and going
in this place, it does not linger long
never holding on, only drifts quietly into night
into stars, into fleeting sparks of fire flies
or in the night waters, a ghostly glow
of phosphorescence, a transient trail
of luminescence that soon
fades and reappears to light
the deepest depths
of sea
In Klawock stands seven totems
and a madman, chanting under ebon skies
he is embedded in the cedar wood, he is connecting worlds
a master carver, of language without words
of the raven clan, he is tracing ancestry in the wood
seeking the old ways of eagle, wolf and bear
born of water, amid the realms of earth and air
his spirit runs with salmon.
decorated, concealed
whitewashed, peeled
years of little earthquakes
will shake you
she is framed art hung, unsung
unknown to anyone
jilted, wilted
a still life flower
hanging ever crooked
upon the wall
dedicated to all who struggle with drug addiction, especially to a certain person in my life
In the night garden, star flowers linger
long before dawn, before the sun
vines climb, with ivory flowers hung
bringing light, where the moon glows pale
flowered jasmine is sweet beneath the air of fire
with lanterns lit in floral scents
glowing through diaphanous petals
here, where the earth shines like heaven
and blooms not unlike the stars.
Grow organic gardens, untainted seeds, saved and collected
plow the dirt, rich red earth, autumn’s bountiful birth
food pure and wild, to eat – a way of life!
we cannot thrive in unearthly soils
in their poisonous, GMO field of spoils
awaken from our sleeping denials
autism, sickness born in the chemical fields
all the killing of you and I
That time in summer’s red, the hilly sands I climbed
willow grass woven white with yarrow, fragrantly entwined
my eyes softened in sea drift’s tide, of puddled shallows
ocean sang in rising waves, wild sea kelp tangled
sun slept scarce hours, it’s shining seaward beams
that only leave as the final silhouette
vanishes into night’s dream
her face, moonlight, diffused
pure art, creamy, curved
hands of finest sculpture
alabaster smoothed
delicate strands, her hair
of softest gold
floats, she dwells in stars
Venus, high priestess
magnetic force above
ever invincible
ruler of love
Crushing you’ve come, traipsing through
my fruits and flowers, to stalk after dark, my heart
disguised in scented garlands, your secret blood and art
do you think me cruel, maybe a fool, or maybe
just a lover of summer white moons
with stars and tricks and the air too hot
my mind is asunder, I’ve fallen under
hypnotic spells you weave
and now it’s really
far too late
to leave
When I am traveling, long
the days and sweat of trains, window games
play of strangers, lonely stray
and I with no escape, but my mind to fly away
will meditate, sink deep into my seat
to disappear, into other worlds
far from my destination
derailed from expectation
like the mad seeking of the sun
when only moons will come
awaiting a friend, a hand to hold
the lonesome of traveling alone
Watching long shadows
some slipping under fences
tricky summer suns
like to play me dumb
or glare me, half blind
sometimes I run
or sometimes walking backwards
looking where I’ve been
in the heat of day
only a dream to sway
under the cool
of moons
red
it is the clay of hills
cathedral clouds of sunsets burning
the weeping that calls you home
it is the fire within
gray
it is the ashes
blowing from your hands
the sands slipping, back to earth
a soul sifting, a balanced scale
awaiting your rebirth
Some say
she is lost to writing poems
snippets, little vignettes of beauty
so much nature inspired, obsessed
with green, botany driven desires
forever in skies, blue, or black with stars
meteor showers, falling, melting
like the liquid silver, red sea of mars
crashing waves, her days
tossed, tumbled, stumbling onto poetry
there is no fault, in words
no shame to be made
would be a sorrowful price to pay
she is writing to find
some truths, a sleuth, a seeker
of going within, without doubt
writing to find herself
most days searching out signs of life
to feel what it would be like, to be
in trees, in leaves, to sleep in green towers
of garden lily bowers
to finally dream in lucid colors, surreal
climbing invisible ladders
in orchards of apple blossom Springs
to sing, sing, sing
Orchard
In the evening, by the sea
subtle ripples, bright as liquid silver, flash
an ocean of color, to drink away the sun
a line of light fades into skies of night
from the call of deepest dark
a birth of luminous stars
such blue, white fires, only burn
no cares, no seasons do they discern
they have come and gone, without our knowing
they will never sleep, only change in cosmic storms
burning away in the vastness
of other forms
All the air alight, sparks fly
lightning, touching down
the falling of skies, falling of stars
dumb, I am mad and beyond
too far off course to find
the mere constellations
I’ve ever known
Finding your poems, there, all but faded
dust of pages, your fleeting song of days
secret book of you, lost among the ruins, laid
and there I stayed, many an hour
and could not tear away
The furniture was Oaxacan wood
finished in plum, red blood
with brightly painted finials
haunting little animals
a lazy, creaking fan
whirred on, above
in gasping bursts, too tired
to cool the room
and only moved
the paper bougainvilleas
glowing – orange, peachy, red
my feet, ever ecstatic to meet
the cool of clay saltillo tiles
red faced, happy to have escaped
into this mirage, my one thought
being margaritas
Breath like wind
always coming, going
disappearing words written on a mirror
as you breathe, so shall love leave
words will reappear amidst foggy steam
only traces, of a heart remain
this longing, this rebirth and dying
brief our days, love we cannot grasp
nothing won or lost – all is impermanence