what I return to you

While we move the stars in some way I'll never understand

vibrating and swinging in an arc across the sky 

long fingers retracing love’s wondrous  persistence.

God's putting space again in my eyes 

Moving  honestly 

Believe  in the universe closest to you

and that I don't name names,,,

Use your radar to circumnavigate the back screen 

the radiologist, books, and the aerial mixing of words with pauses   

In trying to view thing this way

You may find spirals too within soft tissue

and words with eyes breathing cold echoes into your heart

what I didn't come to say

The voice that slows and catches paused dreams 

looking back just saying simply what to do 

pinpointing curiosities

 not in weakness or fear,  but in confidence 

with comfort and calm

I'm going to Believe 

4/3

no fusilli abrupt pronouncement

 

that the faintest breath 

contains the deliverance from our tears

closets

escapes 

conclusions

all  initiative and memory

all as well  

• laggardly, 
• leisurely 
casually 

slowly withered the day into night  

  '^

As storms prepare

they will see that

life inside you now 

here and forever 

other things happening  

not by work alone 

 

The thunder prepares its part in the storm

from behind glass in silence

and under rocks

now forced to fly 

the uncensored spine

unwinds its tree branches 

shattering the antique china

.

a source of hunger

waiting to not belong

not all wrong

to be turned with dust 

into sunflowers on these

red hills 

climbing high on the trees 

being with leaves missing edges

lost forever.

running through the 

chasms of a songbird's

digestive  system

dancing to the changing score and 

movement

.

Grandma's Stolen (Monkey Bread)

 

Every now and then she baked

And we'd all come in saying nothing that mattered. 

waiting for that soft lump to grow

as big as the room it was in

 I remember us all standing on the chairs by the lamp 

and her telling us to get down

before she finished one of  her stories.

(..and if I ever see her again )

She always ended with "and that's the way it was."

 and the room was always warm and friendly.

^

gentle angel

I think I can find you again

say it's alright  

say its ok to try 

to bare my self a little 

as these shadows pass over inside the

quiet stillness

tell me that like images from dreams

they will quickly disappear again

its a funny thing

like other things 

that voice in the shadow  of my heart

that i hear every time

i fall

it helps me endure 

the surrendering

and the cold night air

...

a simple world

 

Images open in my mind 

standing clear against countless time

from inner membranes, earth falling light

captures thoroughly overlapping possibilities  

( I'm leaving out these five lines to give

a sense of curiosity and wonder)

like an old sculptor watching the shadows fall

as one world slips into another 

...

the weathering

On words needing a voice,

inspiration, air, waking life and love...

Elements wash the mountains flush with colors

that change with second looks

speaking with ease and nonchalance

It's enough to forget such natural things

but why is it enough?

..

life lined

And as if to make this point

I go back for a moment to look

after the foreseeable future

making anything at all into

everything equal

Perhaps its only thin air but 

how comforting to think this road

leads toward that horizon

Im here in the lines you might pass over

a reminder that we all make images of 

anything everything and nothing at all

like the living spirit running through all things

never ending in one lasting scene

.

post title

A black 
   wasp's long knife
   makes the world look

.

replaced with words

drenched in silent moments
the inescapable vibration
melts around me
the infinite melodies and dreams 
like I swallowed time
Im trying to let them out of this gentle veneer

if you say
that truly takes strength 
and strength is love
or that i will remember this
be careful of imagination 
between those lines

but I need some way to get these thoughts out before summer
and believe we just need to recognize
their own strange beauty and wisdom

*

Images that refuse to add up

let me see this heart
always beating for coarse sonnets
like warm light on Sunday afternoon
next to the shadowed bridges
miles east of here
that keep coming back
not asking for much

If I am wrong tell me when I'm right
Draw me to you,
more than anything else
through the failures laughter and tears
Be patient with me


.