poetry & things

Poems

If in winter

Vast, this snowy land

still and deep the quiet country

cold the cloudy fog we breathe

gasping winds that rise and break the silence

along a fence line, slowly disappearing

how small the trees and distant hills that fade like smoke

and loom the clouds like ghosts, blooming madly white – the sky

if in winter we should meet deep along some snowy height

gazing as the grey and whites fade swiftly into night

some evening silently await the moon, void of words to speak

with great Peace – to breathe beneath the great north star that shines

In this wilderness

To end this, is to run blindly – falling

loose limbs wild and flailing

with hands that can no longer grasp

a saving grace, a final branch

we are lost in desolation

it is pure wilderness

a long winter’s night

with no path or tracks

to follow, cold like snow

we plow this landscape, barren

deep and dark below

to seep into the soul

lingering long in limbo

the ache of holding on

transformed into

the pain of

letting go

When I think of you

Storm clouds

of black thunder

electrical, magnetic powered

sparks lashing, loose wired

consumed by lightening fire

a wild red, blazing blue

hot, the smouldering coals of you

the final burning through

a certain kind of death

grey the ashes

of our truth

These things take time

These things take time

like the desert spiny lizard

now dessicated and dried

run over, flattened and tough as leather

too slow for the speed limit

of twenty five, found on my way

to check the mail, I mourned a little

always waiting for unpredictable things

to arrive, these things take time

like the rusting of street signs

the perfectly smooth stones

tumbled and refined

or today noticing the hole

in the sole of my shoe

that’s now worn through

there were ten days

of blaring hot sun, we melted some

but today, yes today

the clouds did come.

The night sky

Nightfall, dark with planets

cold desolate sky home

stars amid nebulous winds, swirling

cool, icing, caked in frozen states

cynosure of volatile fates

the fiery red that melts blue

tonight a slow float of milk clouds

a diaphanous, transient veil

drifts its way across

the moon, so pale

The Mirror

Lonesome

this dying fire

the darkening sky

now, barely a glint of sun

a dismal line of light

swift that fades into the night

starless black water

this mirror pool

reflections of

you and I

The mad sun

When I dream this desert turns green, blooms

clouds race where mountain lions loom

ash gray, the cool of blue rain comes

a redolent wind of desert sea

rushing waves, sand blown

sculpted saguaro forests

pale flowered yellow

drinking every drop

now this eve we drink

now before another dawn

of the mad thirsty sun

My lips are cracked leather

lizard dry, my breath melts into mirage

beetles emerge from dark caves

in flashes of iridescence, crawling

their tiny tracks, surreal sand paintings

art for cactus wren, hunting

Here, beyond yet another

sparkling diamond mound

lies a wild sea of the sailing ships, I’ve found

Of stars

Winter, the amber fire

of ashen woods, we burned

wet the smoulder of mire

the water and the fire

dark ancestress home

nights, moon shivering, cold

stars fixed or falling

beyond the skies fiery yields

only dying embers

lost in oblivion’s field

Into the woods

When I travel far from crowds

find myself grey, in the raining clouds

I run far into the cedar woods

of green and mossy loam

with birds, I fly from storms

deep in a world

sweet with maidenhair ferns

soft the moss, to touch

as newborn rabbit’s fur

many the hour

under sparkling trees

of yellow maples glistening

the chirping words, of smallest birds

that I can never see

echo sweet, I dream and sleep

sink into perfect peace

beneath the rainforest canopy

In the water

Cerulean blue, the mad rippling

how I crave water, sometimes even green

in Spring the melting of me

smooth stoned, to go slipping

pools and pools, swimming

to feel an ocean here inside

a storm of clouds collide

unhinged from fire’s dream

a torrent, a waterfall

of holy water

evaporating into

steam

In the river

To enter shallow water

feel the cooling cold of our toes

smooth the slippery stones

move, the deeper we go

to cross a blood red river

ever to dredge the soul

deep in places unknown

we walk through a door

though many still sleeping

remain waiting at

the shore

In the night sky

I am surrounded by night, windless

hot as fever, even more troubled

the places I’ve called home, abandoned

along with everyone, days in a desert alone

I speak to no one, only the sky

the night moon, my mother

whispers in metaphor

something brilliant

I tremble, quiver

in time with

the stars

Half moon day

Some days, this desert

under spells of sun and moon

think, I brood in fields of agave blue

the angled sun blares sharp to parch

to dry, to crackle leaves to dust

tricky this prickly pear cactus

bitter thorns, laden with

impossible blood sweet fruit

while high and seen out the corner

of my eye, the half moon smiles

beguiled by the sun

Gently (10w)

Be gentle as you breathe

your days away

all count

Fiery field

How I loved your mouth

the way your words belled forth

rang in soothing song

your lips and all the rest

days of coming home

in meadows or prairie suns

by love’s fiery field

how we were

consumed

Farewell my lover

Never call me, on nights fierce with storm

blowing wild with lightening, thunder

no never, and though fretful, I tremble

through raging rains

I go alone

Please don’t come over

leaving little notes, so clever

hot and cold, was our weather

farewell my lover

alas it is finally over

Ethereal flower

Love silent, falls

it touches soft, invisibly floats

unseen by the scope of eyes

comes brushing by, or comes in a down pouring,

wet washing the soul, unwavering, wordless it unfolds

travels most rugged terrain, smooths the way

there is no season for its efflorescence

it sits, a silent bud, any moment to flower

always we know it’s fragrance

it is the way, the path

a flitting, ethereal flower

one, that we can never grasp

Desert purification

Sonoran desert

sacred hot breathed

scorch of footsteps, blood red sands

sun bleached, grey boned skulls

this wash, a hallowed holy ghost

unnerving place, this hiss of fire

molten and slow

hot as fever, red prickling sweat

the Yaqui man you’ve met

undulating in a purification ceremony

lashing, the energy cords cut

he is laughing like coyote, wild eyed

green the velvet, desert peyote

and you have come to understand

the universe in a fleck of sand

Colors of day

Gathering colors of day

sea of green viridian, washing storms of grey

seagulls cry in shades colored blue

how mad the ocean’s raving tune

it sweeps away the end of day, a hopeful sun

to paint the sky of blackness

paleness of moon

rises, fades

beyond the sway

of silvery shades

night shimmers its way

into red and blue

where fiery clouds ignite

the day once more anew.

Beyond the deep end

I tried water

wading, floating, drowning

the pooling and spilling of years

immersed myself holy,

deeply to find the fear

dark in the deep end

the coming home to soul

the pain of it all

unknowingly I’d slept

heart wrecked

frozen in fear

unwilling to look

until there was

no other choice

until one day discovering

hidden truths beyond

my darkest void

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