.....the still throat
horse and silent
hoofs worn sore and smooth
impatient stompings
as if some forced foot thunder
might instill the echo
from a waning tide
no longer can i bide
course callings to the stars
the sea
the earth
what song should i have sung
what pettled poem upon the lips of
goblets formed in gold or wood
or was the dance to slow
to fast
or ill disguised in dreams
it seems
gentle in the ways of sunsets
tropical and soft the breeze
across the orange horizons
comes a hand upon my arm
mere coaxing that its time to leave
there's other worlds to grieve
and other seas to call upon the all
same as the one
that set my heart in thrall
beloveds hidden
deaf
and blind
and yet
i pause and paint upon the heart
in azure strokes
...the visions left behind
in poem and song and rhyme
in case he comes too late
and wonders
wonders
why i didn't wait

djed

wonders
strange
and felt
i'v truly fallen to the
early morning matins shift
a place of solitude
before the light of day
a silence both within and out
a mindless octopus
flails arms about my face
in wave like
heavy gestures
as if looking for a stance
reflecting
on a pattern
glazed in dreams
placed over
donet shaped realities
something seen on science channels
cutting through the landscape
of our vague perceptions
only to be pulled apart
by lines of mitocondria
self filiments meant
for the greater good
they say
but now i find i pray
without the words that
touch
much more
as if i'm
looking
back
and turning self to rock o salt
a pillar
weighing down the steppes
passed by
a thing from here to there
no jochem boaz
line
or Sampson at my side
just womanly erections
froze and held
by curiosity
i know now
that i merely came to sea

in dank n dark the whirling specks of plankton
passing by
the joy of spinning to the surface of my liquid home
is better known with arched design
this form full face toward stars
the changing shades of blues to greens to grays
the best delight is finding sacred lights
above the waves
and watch them toss their manna breath
to folds of fathoms rolling over
in the ebb n flow
of dreams
i take them back it seems
for all the wild imaginings persist past storm and din of winds
my very kin
most often hide down in the deepest din of pride
while i in folly find the shift of tempest wave
a fruitful venture finding all the limits of my kind
and dancing them into their worth
some strange relentless birth
sometimes in bravest venture
followed to the very edges of tsunami terror
faithful mates in a seas of wrath
and find they can come back
but then forever changed
the siren call is not the only call we hear
but deep within the deep
a low and humble groan of being
something in the song of life
that urges even faint of souls
with promises to venture into waking dreams

the mystery unfolds
transparent guise from
paper rice
stone rubbings
orogami in design
faint lines and edges
maping out
eternal source of laughter
from the stars
some clown's amusing goal
"let's see if they can punch their way
through oragami bags"
we ought to gno
above
below
...but then why give it
creed ance
once the whoosh and spin
of endings
find the start
the rush now finds me heart
and here i fall again
dark angel
to the form of matter in the round
the same
familur sounds o
crackle
ping
and sparky things
a babe in woods
so feral tried and true
in dreams i think u knew
ped
peding
predator and prey
first triad game we play
rehersal for
the endless guests that stay
close by
oh my
"i;ve said too much
thats me in the mirror
that's me in the spotlight
loosing my re legion"

today is my thanksgiving day
grateful for the simple love and friendship
that passes through and to
us all
in spite of fumblings
inconsistencies
inadequate mind sets
grateful for the chance
to participate
grateful to see
the ones that hold
our hearts to
bloom and blossom
right there
before our eyes
grateful for the chance to glance
at the edge and verge of all possibilities
potential for transformation
here within our presence
laughter and warmth
hand in hand
this blatant prayer
wells up from being human
this i love
this i share
blessed be

damn
the forbearers of swift arcanas
count them all past 3 2 5
what lays within our present past to claim
willful and kept unkempt
blow them all
a fearce wind
purple and bold
you lie
you flounder
you are the me in thee
not one nor 2
in frantic
calls i shout
one honest soul
release and show the tole we pay
and save the day
how can i show the gods a worthy man
just one
to find the world in grains of sand
quotes
and pithy verbage
clogs the pipes of being
all we wait for is a song
just one mere
birdie singing
and from these breasts of Geia
you finally see the struggle of the emerging slime
the base of being
the tendrils of the prime potential
anger is the first reward
not bliss
an impetus to step the path
with tremers under foot
change .... the scream of birthing
emerging is the blood and brine
what beauty from her loins have
spent and paid from our bliss
you too have seen and known
the relentless urge of creation
the mountains of momentum
no easy task for the faint of heart
or the needy
well up
from all your primal being
ladle to culdron
stirring tubers and spice
within the vessel
set upon the fire
few press to change
without the hold of present past
few knights of valour
raise excaliber toward the suns and
form the land
the land and we are one

Not mirrors
Nor handles on the door
Something more
A hand to inner makings
Hidden deep
within the blood and gore
some find the reach to stone
Excalibur at best
no place of rest
the few
that clear away the sweaty paths
and dark nights of the soul
(dismissed as
brave cowards willing sacrifices on the alter
of the nothing child)
….my children all
oozing blood n grime
displays of rancid
body parts
what fallen angel hasn’t longed
for mary’s hand upon the brow
cool strokes
baptism of our greater way of being
what horror
anger
wrath has not been
visioned worn and tested
ways of
hu man in the quest
no rest
no rest
For stinky vermin guests
Leave your mud shoes at the door
And walk upon the earthen floors
We Entered at our own demise
Oh Pearl of greatest price
Your song of sacrifice
Will sing the truth of who our least
Might be
A candidate for dire humanity
For all the world to see
we fail!
To mark the boundaries of despair
With something more
than platitudes
and musings in the round
we win as often as
we scream the tearful sounds
as witness to our children’s
fall from grace
and curse the womb that brought them to this place
of pain
who here
would willingly
slam hands upon the cross
and offer up their life for
handfuls of these vipers
….who here upon the round
can hold a steady glance
into the pit of all our
reckonings
and know our hand is in the fault
so few pillars of salt
so few burning bushes
though none pass by
without witness
2 the U N I