This cemetery of broken stones, the gray hanging trees
of moss draping down to the crab grass and leafy lawns.
This silent field of sticks and bones, of breath long gone
tiny grave of an infant child one day old.
Behind this black rusty fence, wrought iron and bent
circling round the dead, a strange cage we'd like to escape
forgetting our fate, we smile and pretend.

Black, hollow world of sky - starless
alone in this darkened room
dreaming of the star showers that fell
last night from your lips
quivering.

These winter trees
cold and shouldering winds
their bending branches unhinge
falling limbs crash and break the snow
further still a secret world of mud and bulbs
that in the spring blooms of tulips and violet mossy lawns
and too, the sun that comes to warm and fills with green the tree arms
this wooded home that breathes with sheltering birdsong.

Outside my door a cawing crow
of blackened wings and indigo
delivered by night's shivering storm.
The wind and winter's howling call,
scattered nests and down the feather falls.
Crack of limbs, cold and bare branched
mesquite leaves and needles spiral to the ground.
In a swooping field he flies into the tallest pines
deep and slow, the trees creak
wild in cello tones.

The afternoon sky with its wine dark clouds
red blushed and blue, moments before the rain drenching greys
the scurrilous skies, the black winged silhouettes that fly
amid the cactus trees, thick with chaparral
a total reconstruction of sunny soft memories
this cold tumbling storm that moves overhead
to form, this desert raining lake.

Like stars fading into the blue of day
the blackness that somewhere slips away
how the sun fire burns clouds into the air
the river that wends through lands, a stream no longer seen
a winding path, a deer trail I follow, the sun shadows that swallow
the light of this sycamore forest, where time is somehow lost
amid the trees of blue and silver contrast
beyond these woods, my eyes follow
birds, that fly into the sky hills
far and disappearing.

Someone's at the door, he wants to know me
I am lonely as a thousand dark winters
and because of the deep blue of you,
the wrecked sea of you and me
and much to my chagrin
I will not let him in.

We are walking, we are chanting, we are praying
though many before us were killed and maimed
we stand in peace, we are in love with the sky,
the earth, the water, the father and the mother

We stand together, we watch the river flood
through the years spilling over with human blood
Praying peace and clean water for our earth mother
praying one day all will come to know
the intricate connection we have to each other
realize how we harm ourselves
when we harm another

We cry with the sky tears
water protectors in the river

Now these clouds
the cold mean greys
sideways rain, the north lands I remember
the drowning choke of smoke and fire
traveling the dark road to your home
the black and spark of stars
we watched through the night
before the killing dawn
before the foggy cold that held us down
the clinch and grasp a slow stinging wasp
gone the fragrant hum of bees
the honey meadow petals.

Only a fleeting summer - we gathered
now swallowed in the autumn thunder
the bruising cold of November.

The path of the sun, with its arrows shooting us home
the light, the lulling moon miles, the night roads we travel
in vast fields of star flowers we are born, reflections in the river
floating we ride, wildly glide, some days on the smooth tides
with these eyes, sometimes half blind
we live and dance, we hide, we fade and die
all too soon only a ghostly glow,
a glimmer in the blue water.

I will tell you these things about the sky
and of summer going into fall, of berries nearly gone
the mountain ash trees green, gold and changing.
The yellow waxwings that perch beneath
the heavy laden leaves, cool
amid an autumn storm.
Half the sky is impossibly grey
then further away, turning black charcoal
a place where thunder is born, booming.
The other half changes from pink, purple, blue
crashing its way into these luminous hills
meandering in sync with birds over the river
until the sun comes, igniting the clouds
on fire with red again.

On mornings like this, I have pressing things
on my mind - digging and weeding, uncovering things
I lay here thinking of that time last spring
wandering the green fields, or in the canyon lands
under a skyful of blue, and I can't seem to move
cannot rise from this bed, I play records
spinning round my head, I play records on repeat
the bittersweet of you and me.

That time in spring, the sweetness
the yellow green of emerging leaves
the popping and exploding
the bright shattering of petals
lilac flowers in our hands.

Walking the woods with you
tracing deer trails for hours
along the rocky river bank
and in the sycamore forest
we saw the silver shining trees
impossibly branched and reaching
mingling in the vast blue sky.

In the deeper woods, mysterious birds
sang incessant songs, ancient and forlorn
always their singing is reminding me
of the endless beauty to be found
always a deeper feeling of love.

The goldenrod now half exploded, on the edge
flowers cut across the path leading to the bracken woods
from the long grass, three young deer emerge
from the mist, into the forest they disappear
to shelter under fir and cedar boughs
just days old, they rest on mossy loam
I trace their perfect footprints
I want to follow them home.

On days like this
cool, with little winds
desert birds forage for sticks
they build nests perched in cactus
some build green in palo verde trees
always I think of baby birds in spring
hatchlings, the fledglings that fly
I travel far beyond the noise of towns
watch the movement of cooling clouds
the roundness of rain upon the ground
the grey banked scurrilous skies
of hurried birds, their silhouettes before a storm
daisies that close, cold amid the stones
beneath where snakes and lizards go
slither and crawl in this landscape of saguaros
and I, ever tethered can only dream to fly.

Tree, I have come to shelter and with the rain to weep
I am soaked, barefoot with mud running through.
Soft the moss, cool and cold
to soothe my heart that bleeds.
Our waxing nights of love and moons
now fallow, a field that burns.
****** our hollow bed
of haunting, silent screams
too soon the fiery devil
too far my lover
the spring.

Sitting under these trees waiting
maybe all day for the moon
or the washing rain upon my face
lay upon this mossy grass, all sunk in
pay no mind to where I've been
no matter - awake or dreaming
I fly into the forest with birds
waxwings, Bohemians
under maple leaves
sun dappled, shining
or perched in the pinewoods
a safe place to hide away
a heart that's dying.

With eyes, like owls - great horned or a night cat's
his arms, tree branched, heavy laden, strong
with legs, sturdy pillars for mountains climbed
hair of silken silver brushed upon my skin
his essence, forged by nights and wildfire pines
his reddened lips, softly melting into mine.

All day from the canyon
the wind birds hover
the dance of pines,
the free water.

The long grass that flows,
green seaweed of the river.
September's early leaves
paper, gold upon the water,
wild yellow petals.

The river's edge
shines with flowers, fully petaled
looking out upon the water
all day the blue, green, yellow of the water
all day until the red, gold of the evening sun.

The taste of your mouth
it exploded, salt bright
upon my lips and I fell
reckless, haphazard
as the night was - of shooting stars
blushed, bright flashed, gleaming.
I fell, the thump and tumbling
of hearts, by the moon, love spun.
Your arms, bands of gold, bronze
gathered me - each part
like stars, one by one.

Here in these beautiful hours
of night's deepest secret world
shines a speckled sky of diamond fire
blooms a starry portal of flowers unfurled.

Every day I awaken early
always I open the curtained window
to gaze upon the fire red sky
sink my thoughts into the tallest trees
distract my mind from these worries
I drift into the aromatic leaves of tea
try not to let flashes of you beset me
all your photographs I must quickly pass
I walk wooded paths for beauty to seek
and from my lips your name I shall not speak
and never think of our last road trip
the Colorado river, the ocean,
the weight of this sinking ship.

Of all the colors
or incense of fragrance imbued
of lavender in fields, violet blue
or softer still the lilac florets all abloom
pale silk, sweet the honeysuckle dew
drips and drinks the yellow painted tanager
and flits afield the newly winged swallowtail
the thrum and dance of bees bright in floral symphonies
gathering, heavy laden in the bending breeze
of all the colors, this bird iridescently shimmering
blue into the disappearing trees
too soon another day to lose
of all the colors, a favorite
I can never choose.

Very early before the birds
the morning moon travels to underworlds
gathering stars and seas of glowing pearls
when swift the sweep of darkness goes
the night from black to indigo
blue in layers, the light unravels
then wends the coming day
the dawning sky of gold.

Over by the wild fields, crossing wired fences
climbing into view, we saw the sandhill cranes
like airplanes, impossibly winged
they weaved in and out of sight
stalking tall amid the grassy screens
prehistorically made and in the green
of murky shallows to wade
warming in the sun, they come
returning every year
and we can feel the air move
in a giant swoop, a flapping wave
breathing heavy winged
we sighed, at their precarious lift off
the feathery snow of sky
alas, the distant birds 
silver streaking by.

In China, towering spires of green
with pine trees, the fog that hovers
breaks lucid in shades of mauve
blue flame of night's dawn
gives birth to stars, the skies
white snow of clouds,
the evening cranes
that fly above.

I have left the desert
to live in forests, under green trees
ruminate, drinking rose petal tea
my sipping cup of salal leaves
always I am watching the beauty
of birds, the wonder of skies
I dream into the disappearing
imagining beyond any ordinary heaven
with wings gathering gentlest winds
soft amid fog and cumulus clouds
coming, going, disappearing
how brief this precious flight.

Wild geraniums collected
in pocket, red painted petal stains
my feet squish, squash in this forest
the earthy mud a mossy sponge
with fern and lichen the trees are hung
upon the ground greening with maidenhair fern
my satchel filled with dainty floral sprigs
in spring the sparrows gathering vine and twig
June's an efflorescent carpeting, soft with lady slippers
in summer the wildflowers and grasses wed
when celebrates all the flying things
wooded bees and butterflies in the sun
sparkling with faceted, glistening wings.

Tiger, your eyes of amber
lull me hypnotically under
slowly sink, you slink in tallest grass
night, a steamy jungle where you sleep
scratch and paw, you claw my neck
I run, always you bite and bite
growl, and prowl hunting me down, to defeat
tireless in your clever games of hide and seek.

Strange music playing
I never know from where it comes
always on a whim it wanders and goes
a flute, warm breathed upon my flesh
sometimes cool night jazz
a deep toned oboe, I breathe in wildly slow
drums synced in rhythmic beats
now a bass guitar strummed ever dark
a haunting violin that moans
ripping at the heart.

When I am a thousand miles away
and you are seemingly a million more
here where I trade the sun for rain
dwell in the intermittent patches of grey
I distract myself in gardens green
study madala art of spider weaves
decaying, diaphanous maple leaves
the cool of wet mud wriggling around my toes
and yesterday the black birds watching me
disturbingly, the cawing crows
and I could hardly think or speak
as I dialed you long distance on the phone.

I have lost all sense of time, hours linger
days fade, I look at photographs
those of you and I, unframed
in gardens, or mountains
or pictures from the hotel
the warmth of you, my chilly toes
lonely - I remember your smile
the window, the trickle
of autumn rain.

Blue, sea green night
the moon's gone missing
lorn shore, footprints and broken shells
my heart an empty ocean to fill
without you my love, further
than the planets and stars
how long this ache
of blood and cells?

Today the rains came, without any warning
I watched droplets forming, pooling on the ground
the trees dissolving into palest fog
into the quiet of this forest, void of birds
traveling off to some secret world
perhaps to some cavernous mountain hollow
with glorious wings, I dream to follow
through the darkened woods, hidden by ferns
through harrowing clouds to be one with birds
with gorgeous feathers, downy warm
among the flickers, pheasant and crow
to be an evening silhouette in the alpenglow
a skylark winging in a painted sky.

It is summer and soon the Perseid showers
I have gone from my desert home
I wander far from crowded towns
my feet in grassy, bee clover
deep summer, all daisy flowered
green leaves, wild blackberries
await the August sun fire.

Here amid the slowing of mars retrograde
of my love returning home too late
no long goodbye, only the weight
I watch oceans of seaweed sway
at night the phosphorescence
the lonesome of sea stars trailing.

Tree, I have come to shelter and with the rain to weep
I am soaked, barefoot, with mud running through
soft the moss, cool and cold
to soothe my heart that bleeds.
Our waxing nights of love and moons
now fallow, a field that burns
****** our hollow bed
of haunting, silent screams
too soon the fiery devil
too far my lover
the spring.

It was more like alabaster, but I could only be sure
of one thing; it was an exquisite lesson in anatomy
cold ancient, pale Roman stone, the arm half gone
strongly curved, the rippling of muscle, hair and bones
a man held by pillar, marble like legs of smoothest stone
his eyes deep set that wended near, then waywardly away
the kind that strangely follow sometimes linger into the next day
broad faced, cheekbones perfectly amid the shadows
and I don't mind saying while on my museum trip
though he was a statue, I thought to kiss
those divinely sculpted lips.

Pablo Neruda
(1904 - 1973)


Don't go far off, not even for a day, because --
because -- I don't know how to say it: a day is long
and I will be waiting for you, as in an empty station
when the trains are parked off somewhere else, asleep.

Don't leave me, even for an hour, because
then the little drops of anguish will all run together,
the smoke that roams looking for a home will drift
into me, choking my lost heart.

Oh, may your silhouette never dissolve on the beach;
may your eyelids never flutter into the empty distance.
Don't leave me for a second, my dearest,

because in that moment you'll have gone so far
I'll wander mazily over all the earth, asking,
Will you come back? Will you leave me here, dying?


http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/don-t-go-far-off/
(very good reader)

Tonight, with its blue moving stars
and mars overhead, in its bright blinking red
the breezing leaves upon the rooftop eaves, calling
a falling star, impossibly high catches the eye, while dying
and I dream to fly, flit and roam amid night's celestial home
but with tethered feet, can only gaze upon the sky, to drink
in the space within my mind, I try to be and not to think
but feel the distant seas, that crash in waves and never cease
the endless ages, ancient and modern ways of humanity
and tonight, I imagine you out there lying soft upon the grass
tracing the dying stars, reflecting on the things that have come to pass
knowing very soon I too, will leave in summer.

I think you are of clay
of red earth and water
smooth formed and forged
a vessel for holding fire
a warm copper bronze
sculpted, divinely poured
of ancient Roman origin
descended from Apollo
born of pure poetry and music
you walk the earth, a skilled hunter
with bow and arrow

Last night, so enlightening
the full flower moon, illuminating
somehow brightening our words
the sun had gone, taking only the birds
leaving the sky of red mars, the alluring stars
you and I, naked traipsing through the woods
the blazing moon of firelight through the trees
a splendorous love potion, we drank the night, celestially

Alone in this silent desert, burned indelibly by sun
after the call, after the blue, red fall of flames
here, after the dancing scorch of fire
I am left to the smouldering doldrums of desire
this bed, now an empty space, a wordless, lifeless place
here, where I have slowed, my movement stagnates
the memories, the sheets - they suffocate
some days feeling so trapped by love
I can only think to run, think how to untangle again
still some days I dream a life with you
in colorfully painted, magnificent hues.

Here in this redolent rain droplets saturate the ground
I watch the clouds move on, then once more the sun to come
this sparkling desert is strewn with tiny diamond stones
the air hangs in petrichor, thick with chaparral
birds drink from puddles in the broad agave leaves
rainwater trickles with steam in the sun of the singing trees
songs of doves coo cooing in the desert mesquite
spiny lizards stop for rest and warmth upon the rocks
they are ancient with tiny rounded teeth
for eating flashing bugs and beetles
here beneath the spindly ocotillo
beneath the pale flowered saguaro, that blooms
amid this ocean of sandy seas
of cool nights and hot breathed days
the way the desert breathes.

It was wind and wild - sunset on the California coast
we watched the birds seemingly fly backwards
seagulls and brown pelicans
the wind bit my cheeks quite red
barefoot, we sank in the cooling sands
watching the final flash of glassy sun
firewater reflecting on the darkened lands
the sky swallowed the sailing light away
with the half moon askew above the bay.

When I don't see you, here or in the places we've been
in prairie meadows or in these trailing hills
I am lonesome, listening to how the ocean spills
blue waves play a sorrowful song
I get lost in thought, ruminate long on our walks
my feet here in these tiny flowers, the ones that we picked
I think of all the gardens, yesterday, today and tomorrow
my eyes fly far off with birds, disappearing
into some heavenly place, where you are.

In the spring of warm grassy lawns, silver threaded
song sparrows high amid the bright lily bowers
they fly gold drenched in the morning hours
in the deep peace of this sanctuary shelter
we are far from the city's maddening swelter
here beneath shade trees and roses, we sip tea
we float soft as petals, a dream life in these hills
smell the ocean rain, blue the way the sky spills
we walk scented jasmine trails back home
come to rest in each others arms
before this resplendent day is gone
with nature becoming one
connected to all things
we are never alone.

It is late, the sky is black slate, coal
a desolate moon glow, cold
this silent world flecked with tiny lights
diffused amid the softness of clouds
the night, only a blooming dawn
a field of stars that come.

Don't make me lose my mind
you were so hard to find
baby can't you stay with me tonight?
we'll party like it's 1999.

Why must you play this game?
when I only want to see you laughing
in the purple rain, purple rain
You know I won't make a fuss
cause you don't have to be rich
you don't have to be cool to rule my world
I just want your extra time and your Kiss!

Don't make me wait here alone and blue
cause darling I would die for you
you say - I'm not your lover
I'm not your friend, I am something
that you'll never comprehend
and I would die for you
darling if you want me to, want me to
I'm not a woman
I'm not a man
I am something that
you'll never understand
and I would die for you

the beautiful ones
we always seem to lose.