we follow the river
to a safer place
where the sun shines
and warmth hits my face
we follow the river
to a peaceful world
where the birds sing
and the animals play in the spring
we follow the river
away from our homes
away from devices and our phones
we follow the river
not of water, it is made
but of the blood we have spilled
follow the red river
to our paradise
follow the bloody river
away from the non-believers
follow the floating body parts
to the other lands
follow your guts
as i cut them out
and throw then in
the river of pretend
I wish to fly in the spirt of my childish naivety.
To sing-jump-dance in the joyful silence I feel as
I sway to the rhythmic flow of my favorite sunbeam.
But I have already spent my summer days under the sun,
I have soaked up all its warmth
until it could not bear the burden of nourishing me.
winter has come.
And though I deny it, the child within shivers.
His rattling teeth begging me to take him home.
To rest awhile. To wait the return of that glorious spring.
I am left alone in that empty void he has left.
all color and mirth gone with his smile.
I look around, not knowing where to go... all is gray.
I know not how to grow.
like a rose in the snow, I will not grow.
Our hunting party chased the thundering herd
over the endless plains from the sunrise
into the sunset with her splendid colors
resting for the time being.
We abandoned the successful hunt
as the Great Spirit’s
twinkling diamonds began to cover,
spill like milk across the cold night sky
with great blessings.
Somewhere the coyotes laughed.
The fires raged high, danced shadows on our faces
as we sat cross-legged, describing the day’s events
with much fervor. Tall Crow Chief and Crooked Nose
laughed like children when they talked about their kills.
Those two had great skill when it came to hunting Tatonka.
As I listened wearily, the voices of my tribesmen
began to sound muffled, things seemed more surreal,
I could not make out their words, which seemed eerily to go silent.
As if in a trance, my wanton-mind drifted with sensuous thoughts,
floating in space, back to my pretty maiden waiting in my lodge,
a full three-days ride from this manly-place.
I envisioned us both naked,
wrapped in each other’s gentle-arms,
her underneath me on top,
she submitting to my will,
my fervent desire to seed her
with my fiery warrior spirit.
She is a spectacular sight to be seen!
Her thick flowing hair is like the pitch of the night
with a voice like the nightingale,
keen-eyes as dark as raven’s tail feathers.
Her sienna-skin smooth as white man’s silk,
she has a strong feminine-sinew grip,
nips at my neck in
our primal ecstasy-states.
flow like a cascade with lovely fragrance,
sweet as sweet grass in the Spring.
I cannot ignore her tender kisses
when I release, when I spring forth.
Her sighs comfort me like none other,
her eager pushes to get more of me,
every single drop of me,
makes this hunt worthwhile.
Is there anything that truly lives forever?
Is it love, happiness, wisdom?
Life & peace?
No sir, not even these.
We all must accept,
that to which has a beginning
must have an end.
For love can not spring,
until we experience hate.
Happiness can not flourish,
unless someone knows sorrow.
Wisdom cannot be attained,
untill one has seen his own mistakes.
Life can not exist,
withought a birth from a mother.
And peace can not manifest itself,
until one experiences war.
So to must everything have a beginning
and an end.
But with what may die,
ought to give life to the next.
No water tastes sweeter
then that sip in the desert
No touch is finer
then that hand on the shoulder
when encased in loneliness.
No paycheck more abundant
then following employment deprivation.
No buffet more filling
then that first bite in hunger.
No idea more stimulating
to a mind so hungry
then a poem which catches
the moment so perfectly.
No love more appreciated
then when awash in self judgement
No praise more received
then when lost in condemnation.
No warmth more soothing
then when lost in the snow.
No light so bright
as that first sunlight
when lost in the demons
of one's night.
No sensation so
pure as an open
heart after numbness descends
Compassion in hatred
A laugh when joyless.
A lover's kiss after betrayal
A loving look after the cold white wall
A loving word after tense stone silence.
No embrace more healing
then when you come home to me.
The receding waters after the tusnami
The stillness after the earthquake.
The peace after the warfare.
The spring flowers after the winter
The coolness of fall after the blistering summer's heat.
The wood stove so warm when the house is so cold.
No bed so content
No home so sweet
after being stuck out on the streets.
Without our joys no sorrow
Without our sorrows no joy.
That one second
turns to a minute,
And a minute,
to an hour.
The hour to a day,
All my time goes to a hopeless cause.
But spring could turn to summer
in three months.
Now I have to wait.
I cant take it!
I close my eyes.
Your face melts my brain.
I can't breathe.
Im sick with the thought of you.
So many outcomes
To the next chapter of you and me.
This could end me,
It could begin us.
The unknowing hand of time,
Will write the rest of the story.
So I'll keep dreaming.
And when the glorious day comes,
I hope i get to hold your hand.
We were given love in a season,
we loved each other without reason,
we lost ourselves in the crowd.
You took my hand and said to run,
the year had just begun.
When the leaves fall from the trees,
I want you to please,
Words dripped from my mouth,
two free souls trapped in the same house,
the silence just got too loud.
April washed away dreams,
May brought on new beauty.
The world was never so clear,
till the day came,
Spring time was here.
We lost ourselves in love,
we could never get enough.
Shuffling through the crowd,
we became the same,
we got lost in love's game.
And we witnessed the brilliance of man's folly,
Every note falling in deciduous perfection;
Even prayers can be lost.
The stars flashed on,
The sun was nowhere to be found, and
And the moon belched like a drunken pirate,
Bending the trees and sending their leaves
Skyward, off to wherever they go.
There was a whisper
Between the blades of grass
We laid on.
There was a worry
Clouding over you
That told me there
Was to be more.
Candy cane fragrance
With a dash of cinnamon salt.
Grinning through the darkness,
We touched palms like children,
Caught in that blue jay dance.
Morning came like mist over a hill.
Our eyes fluttered open and close.
She rose first, then I rose with her.
We met by the window and looked down on the street,
Both of us feeling the fleeting of a feeling.
Secondary rituals over coffee and pastries.
The sun came through that café window like a shotgun blast.
And when she paid and left,
A kiss on the cheek for cordiality,
She dropped a note that read "Until next time."
When you don't see another for some time,
You wonder what they came to be.
A periwinkle whore of 5 cents a pound,
Or a river lady loon that sang without a sound?
The maze has many turns, until you reach the end.
Under your bed,
Their color's shining
Ox blood purple and red.
They told me your name.
They scribbled your address.
They want what you have.
They're wondering why your'e so stressed.
When she came by the place again,
I wasn't home, so she dropped me another note.
This one had only one word:
I can't lie.
I was quite
I thought she
Less to say.
Two days past.
A knock on my door.
Moon light's middle finger
Stretched into my
Living room window.
My couch held her like an egg in a carton.
Toad colored hat latched around her head.
Hair covering her eyes, her mouth, her broken nose.
She wore orange flip flops, wiggling her toes.
A zit planted in the middle of her forehead like white rose.
She asked why I hadn't called her.
I told her that I didn't have a number.
She talked about her soon to be dead father.
I sat down to listen, thinking of my forgotten brother.
We talked with a space between us for a long time.
When she began to cry, she came to me,
Like a bee to a flower or a fly to fresh shit.
I felt her hand on my chest and her breath in my left ear;
There's no guilt like the wicked
And there's no faith like the religious kind.
Hand in a hold.
Love is a recyclable mold.
The tattered priest protects the walls
Of his splintered sanctuary.
Every dream had
Is another man's
Oh my sins, my sins,
Where should I begin?
When you're born to lose,
There's no thought to win.
6 months past
And still, she came.
Our love for one another
Was a knot
I couldn't untie.
A year past
And the stars and the moon
Were a cure that
Blanketed our child, our family.
Living our days out,
Mixing poison and penalty,
Running from a life
That showed any shred of reality.
Buried side by side
Underneath a bent orange tree,
I died one day,
She dying the other.
We use the leaves of Fall
And the blossoming buds of Spring
To reach for.
When I say the maze is long
And that the hours are heavy,
I meant not for your blankets to fall cold
Or for your room to awash with darkness.
She came to me that day,
Just like someone will come for you.
And I had no choice,
But to attune.
It is not often I dream of you.
Dressed in copper and brick,
Growing green with vines,
Climbing your crumbling walls.
This castle you once kept in an
Easily forgotten part of my body.
A bastion against burial
Between shoulder blade and spine.
You who choose never to announce your
Presence when entering the room.
Simply sit in the corner, tilting your wine glass
Till I notice your ever increasing stare.
Most nights, I ignore you.
Ignore your black miniskirt and pearls,
Ignore your orange sundress
And turquoise necklace,
Ignore gladiator sandals,
And Barcelona bracelet,
First worn when we still
Had the simplicity of spring.
Some rare nights like this one
I grab you by your thumbs
And pull you under the table.
Relive our longing out of the sight
Of these new dinner guests,
Crawling awkwardly between their legs.
This is how
You have always worked.
Drawing ink from my body,
One pen:knife awakening at a time
If we had forever to entwine ourselves
In the same way the Alps pierce the heavens
Tearing at this schism of sky
We could shed our skin into the
Dance of the wind as it whistles
Through the wind-chime collision
Of our skysung bones
You are already dressed as an angel
And I can see you
Fumbling to find the halo
You keep in your purse in case boys like me
With amber harvest moon eyes come knocking
At the mountain cathedral of your lips
There is a choir in your belly
That sings in the language
Of sunset summer evenings
But I want to rewind you back
To the bare budding of spring
And do to you
What April does to the cherry trees
I am an aurora blown south
To arch you into St Elmo’s fire
So let’s back bend ourselves into an ember
To remember that life
Is a fleeting wildfire of a dream
But when you wake
Don’t you still want to taste
On your lips