Like ships in the night
The armada of storms
Sail off across the horizon
Out onto the distant plains;
Booming and anguished.
I walk in the night electric
And feel a certain buzz inside
Cautious and wild, stirring.
The night is hidden from me
by the night, the young leaves ripple
In the empty wind.

the burnt forest
of time, we climbed
to watch dusk -
to become dust.
the old path
that stretches on forever
(that follows the wind)
over the horizon-
i can see him walking
there now, smiling
in a golden blaze

it's beautiful to look back
upon the canyon ascending
nice to dance among the stars
drink the shadows of mountains
I've known love, even more
the great ocean sipping the shore
the great swamp reverberating
like a distant drum. To see
the trees in dawn's empty light
to look upon the deeper forest
walk among the moraines
cry beside the sea, on the
evening ferry off island
traveling far far away

In the springtime after death
Like a flower in the blowing snow
I know, I know the way
The world feels – tired and anxious.
And time, like wine grows finer
With age (Can you feel it’s
Booming heartbeat) can
You taste its enticing bitterness?
The long sonorous days
Of dusk and love are near again
And the future tiptoes on the quiet shores
Of that boundless, nebulous sea
Exhausted but auspicious;
Like a shadow in the wind

Written into the sand
A delicate heart; the broken
Shape of a thousand footprints.
Sunlight moves like water here
Sweeping down the arroyo.
Carved into the sand
An open hand; holding on
To a thousand lonely stars.
The long-lasting embrace
Maintained through centuries.
-
I think to a time when
The bones of galaxies have faded
And all of space is abandon, in the evening of the end.
When there is no light left
To guide and the only
Sound is that of the dead
Tiptoeing on the shores of emptiness.

every inch of earth and more
i long to touch and love and know;
like dusk the quiet fingers hold
the nervous children laughing.

sleet, too wet for a bird's feather
drowned the cold sound of dawn;
now quiet only the sun shines
golden rays through hairy pines

the moon is a man who walks with open hands
down an empty narrow valley And
may is a way to say horray! here are the flowers
and here are the lovers, but don't be bothered
by the moon he's just and old restless spirit
(and spring is only a simple season) attached to the stern
of night's mortality And who is the me there
say in the waves waving so tiredly
so zealously but the you I and all of everything everywhere