Into the opening we burst onto solar fairy tears evaporating over the entire field In silence, I gathered how innumerable these continual launchings Still day, yet sunset a deer appeared; we chased after it Only to return The path had provided inklings good-omening twinklings I hadn’t expected this Breathed it in Longed for it before I left the dogs whimpered, unaware I exhaled as they tugged me past hoping it fore, knowing it aft Post-script Again amid tears and deer I wonder dumb-struck How easily I might be unwitting participant in an ever-ascending, light-shedding conspiracy
Category: Poems
Poem
Dawn
Drowsy in the afternoon I daydream of how life began Where to begin? A fool to set the dial at dawn full daylight then fifteen minutes beforehand affords no preview A full hour buys an inkling of twilight’s twinkling of Daphne’s whispering embracing of the embankments away from Apollo’s attainment Even then, I have yet to see when day articulates its begin A solitary cloud on the horizon gleams the night is brushed into luxuriance by degrees the tension of the starry–eyed watchmen and their moonbeams are relieved The horizon is wreathed in ambient light out of the blue the firmament is established an ocean of clouds, rose–imbued engulf their first little plume from the ash of the trees’ leaves a remote rebel wind blows rekindling an ember which died long ago a reversal of fate crackles the wood births its master Beyond the mists, a beam strikes Behold the glob: uncontrolled fire My eyes catch her eyelash rays heat alights me; I avert my gaze knowing dawn I lumber home to begin my way occasionally glaring back resenting the triumphant orb’s overpowering glory and iridescent morning What could I do to compare with the making of the day? I just bask in it All those unanswered sunsets each have their sad goodbyes’ bright condolences I’ve slumbered in ignorance, abjured the witness of it I don’t live here, but somewhere hours hence or thence and remain lulling in jet lag, a perpetual guest Now in my seeking I send unsuspecting foxes leaping How natural it fits the pace of my body and the strengthening of my wits with dawn’s rising, when I attend to it How ready I am at the day’s sad forsaking to yield to the dream of continual awakening
And Peace Unto Men
may man not merely excel or flounder within his constraints rather slyly aloof remain, hark guidance beyond, and enjoy his world again
Gyro
What a strange pole I stand on my compass just spins Inner fumblings keep me dancing on a pin Some daft defiance of gravity lets me be Juxtaposed with the world for all to see Only let me twirl let me be let me hum with grace and buzz with glee
Hibiscus
I spied you as I entered the grocer By the time I reached the checkout, I knew I had to have you Petals vibrant yellow Upon inspection revealing crimson deep within that’s how I knew cursing my impetuosity why, how need why and how I brought you home not one peep not one flower spread no color deep depressed, languishing After the dreary days Just my luck to bump into wisdom that knew your ways your needs knew you’ve outgrown your pot And at the center they knew hibiscuses like it comfy and warm Every season something new just an inch or two to continue unfurling roots and something to lean on when things need straightening The next day, amid the trees I see you sporting that same flower the one that brought me to you fully extended
Firefly Carpet
Wind gushing through the tall trees at twilight The air pats me on the back with soft touches of the day’s last heat Fading rays of the sun’s reflective goodbye stream through, gloomy as moonbeams Some glint in the corner of my eye a speck of gold, supernatural Firefly I spy you hobbling around in preflight I delight in your throbbing fob as you grow into your wings Firefly What a welcome first sighting I suppose we must all crawl alone in the dusk before we dance in heady teams And as I dwaddle home I see Firefly, Firefly, Firefly out laying a phosphorescent carpet for me
Chipmunk
O Little one flattened by the wheel of some innocuous trip to work, to school, to the grocers You lay accursed in this driveway how could your nimble speed be overrun by the suburban 5 mph As I pick you up I see not crimson blood bursting from your mouth but some bright berry you were scurrying away with
Anthropologie
I used page through women’s clothing magazines for the babes Whatever they wore was a teasing distraction I thought I knew well Victoria’s Secret my uncle joked for me to watch out while the poison was already stealing silently through my veins That such powerful possessors would fall prey to obsession with accessories laid bare an horrific mystery Now that love has departed I wonder how much damage was dealt by my brutal insistance that her beautiful self was all that was wanted All that’s left are these seasonal mailings Sifting through the pages delving back in time for something I missed Now I look at the artifacts am in awe by the inspired, nurturing designs Watch beauty echo… echo… echo: I am beauty; take care
Lily
I take my time hopping from one lily pad to the next Until I realize I am frog not pad
Hookah Saturnalia
Belly–dancing Friday & Saturday nights Ask about our cakes and pastries together on the hookah menu It feels illegal this fantastic peace–pipe imported from a distant land where — I imagine — it is the usual mouthpiece playing the timeless tune of friendship in some tent with cushions and languishing heat We talk of brownies as we inhale deeply blowing dragon’s breath from our nostrils attempting Gandalf rings We talk of communism and kibbutz as the silent flat–screen entrapped in its frame trails on pitching capitalism Abruptly comes the belly dancer sword balanced on head smirk balanced on lips a knowing corniness goes unheeded tables laugh giddy with defense It feels illegal this brazen display with its own language it speaks fluently That middle–aged Persian to whom I earlier beamed glares at her — all the women do — not enviously at beauty speaking its truth which all possess and most mostly murmur All part of the act dancer coaxes handsome man to mimic her poorly in happy embarrassment revealing the difference between babble and eloquence Then the young, curly-haired maiden stands and with so natural an expression on her face silently undulates a state of grace echoing phrases of child’s play the staff see her and she is suddenly attired in native spangles Everyone understands the dance now the entire table of Persians join them the Africans on the other side of us, too And me, I wax on about the bump and grind with a generous tutor A beautiful woman entreats to dance with the dancer and share in the speech O happy buzz, good–natured delirium The things we are saying this Saturnalia I am always hearing them Thank you, hookah, magic lamp, who cleans the substance’s impurities and turns smoke white for the young maiden’s sweet grace and a pleasant night