In a dream every cloud contains a moon
pulling me out of the dream into Sunday-
awake every cloud contains a leopards eye
directing the snow cat to a stream.
I swear in a previous incarnation i drank
from the same waters and this leopard is
the distant offspring of my feline sons
and daughters. Our eyes meet and lock
once and we are sketched into the
narrative of each others dream.
Dec 30, 2011
Dec 30, 2011 at 9:25 AM UTC
My grandfather would listen to the Hornsea evening tides
he would compare them to incantations where ecstasy resides
grandmother complained that her husband was never really home
he compared wood to the soul in death searching for a form
a carpenter-he built my sister a dollhouse and me a horse
grandfather heard the grass growing he understood it's force
he would stare into the dolls house and share his visions
that night winds would blow the cottage free of it's fictions
On her last night grandmother opened the window and heard the sea
that night her husband finally arrived home and she for eternity
he would make wings for the horse and build a boat-his last creation
sailing at night he muttered his wife's name like an incantation
sleeping till morning the wind would carry his dreams in its suitcase
staring into the dolls house he watched grandmothers sleeping face
Dec 30, 2011
Dec 30, 2011 at 4:23 AM UTC
At night my friend and I would look up at the stars
without a telescope we would pour the night into two jars
my mother claimed that in our chimney lived a ghost
he would elude the flames and do his utmost
to make mischief creating shapes out of the smoke
By the fire my Mother would tell stories of the nightjars
they were as elusive as fire of the nearest stars
under the moon at night I would hear my Mother sing
our intelligent sleeping ghost would wake, joining in whistling
In the morning my jar was filled with the splendid sounds
of nightjars my friend and I slowly searched the grounds
for this elusive bird in the graveyards and the local park
we watched the swans take flight close to dark
uplift from water to wing was like a gift of gold from castle to king
with beauty gone we were like a ruby separated from it's ring
Dec 30, 2011
Dec 30, 2011 at 4:19 AM UTC
Outside a church a girl with permanent
mine deep scratches on her face
silently sells me matches-I light a match
and through the round church window
I see a crucifix propping Gods eye open-
the earth his spinning eye-the cross and eye
bridging time-humanity's leap into a new religious
paradigm; cross and earth meet, man's divine
awareness is complete.That night I light two
matches beneath a full moon and place my
hand beneath the flames and see God the
hooded falcon and Jesus his falcon-they cannot
see the fire in the eyes of each other.
Dreams were my bird of prey as i slept-
I was drawn to a wilderness where Christ
wept nails and howled beneath a full moon.
The wind caressed my wings and his hair-
he looked into my eyes and intoned a prayer
and rain-stones came down onto the plains
and bounced off my bedroom window pane
waking me-in the mirror I could still see the
figure of Christ preserved within my eyes.
I watched the TV and Jesus witnessed history
in documentaries. Jesus returned in a dream,
watched the earth in two streams and altered
its history- ended poverty and war, then drank
from the waters. After waking, this was replayed
in my eyes- Jesus they would vaguely recognize
and in return he didn't accept his reflection
in the waters of the streams.
Dec 30, 2011
Dec 30, 2011 at 4:18 AM UTC