When were you cast out Brother?
I had named you
Adam
Your woman still lies
In great beauty  
Red hair spilled on the desert floor
Great sands pillowing against  
Open thighs
As sometimes
In its infinite piling
As it would be rough
With your fingertips  
Pressed  
Preparing her for entry
  
Sweet tendrils  
Wrap vermillion and dark
Like the cinder curling of  
My word as it burns
The ink bleeds mankind
Into ashen wandering  
And back again  
To dust
In only the blink of my eye
  
It is not the fragile kind
My weeping  
The tears have purpose
And would filter in  
To flood this valley of loss
And wipe it new
And not without her
  
One existing soul  
Will grow and thrive and exist  
In another’s body
To dance and sing with the great spirit  
Of thousands
A sound mind  
And purpose  
That survived outside  
Of the red tent
Even without the hand  
of Jacobs lead

I have stroked my way
through great lengths
And currents    
Of uncertainty    
    
Come ripple    
Come shoot  
And it seems    
In this moment    
I did not miss  
    
It's pull  
Through doubt  
Through once devastating    
Remorse  
That had grabbed my ankles  
To tug me under  
    
To see my face    
In airless whisper  
Bubbles of scream    
I could not muster    
Rise  
And rise slowly    
And swallow into it  
    
Hollow panic    
I could not choke    
But only beg for wind  
Until I surfaced    
To the welcoming sun    
And beloved movement  
    
To float into    
Destination    
Would have been lovely  
To ride Christ like    
Down blue waters    
Seems choice    
However unattainable    
    
I can only imagine  
Caressing the ease and cool    
With fingers that did not curl    
With desperation  
    
But that was not my case  
Was not my stream    
Was not my river    
    
I imagine Congo bends  
And U shaped turns    
Of ambiguity and great confusion  
Or the dense and uncharted    
Regions of the Amazon    
And like minded    
Extreme    
Highly unpredictable    
Pourings  
    
And in them I would recognise    
My journey  
And feel kinship    
And great pride    
In spite of the struggle  
And uneven pace of my dig  
    
For every stroke has taken me    
to where I am  
And away from where I've been
  
I let the residuals  
Drip down my thigh
I finger them from my hair
And am reminded  
Of the hard motion  
And deep waters that cling
  
I sigh and watch them  
fall from my skin
And direct my gaze
And satisfaction  
Up and towards the sky

I designed and built this valley mansion
   obscuring a view of the mountains -
A magnificent multi-storied structure
   with many rooms dimly lit or darkened,
A few rooms admitting a minimum
   of filtered starlight.

In one room only
   is there occasionally
   direct blazing sunlight
And this is the room of longing.



- fr