I used to eye her more than books.

She had good looks
and for me
in the library
she killed the dullness of patience
the stifled air of silence
with her lips' hidden smile
that was quite a diversion
from pouring over yellowed pages
all the while.

In the garden I sought my chance
but she resisted any advance
telling me it's not her
I needed to be in my mind
but a job I must find
for couldn't be raised a family
merely loving in the library.

I think she gave me love
when I needed a job
but by the time I earned the bread
she was already married.

Once I thought of her as Miss Giving
but now as I look back
I have serious misgiving.

In the darker place
where a man can be crushed,
taunts haunt
betrayal of trust
each echoed word steps
a ragged booted stomp,
one per breath of rust,
there  
the shackles that restrain
also hold me up.

FAKE NEWS is not new;
Fantabulism populism:

SHRIMP, BOY!
Mind the clause!

BEARDED PERSON!
Absolutely Ordinary!

ZIPPY THE PINHEAD:
Are we having fun yet?!

Approaching Station,
Exit to left,
Passes please,
Discounted and undiscovered,
Are the tracks still broken?
Hand loosing it's grip,
As the content contentment,
Starts to rise,
Dreamers can't have dreams,
When passed oot,
Trying to shake,
Tattooed faces,
Security let's it go,
When glasses cant stop staring,
An angel with Diamondback wings,
Trying her best to keep it all together,
While puting on shoes,
That aren't on her feet,
Rushing to the other car she saves another soul,
Central ave,
Centralized humility with mangled humanity,
He's alive,
But rarely living,
Loved,
But wondering where it is,
Art district and,
**** I've listened to this song too many times,
Poetry on rails,
******* railed by poetry,
Glasses terrified by realness,
They all deserve better,
Would they know what to do with it?
Exit to left,
The angel let's her sister go,
The door closes,
She checks,
The rail only has so many stops,
It's quiet,
The significance of the moment,
Discovered then discarded,
She's asleep.
He's not waking up,
She leaves,
Approaching station.
1st ave,
Passes please.

I've given up being a martyr
I did it tomorrow or maybe yesterday
I finally found the door
Spending less time outside
More time inside
Figuring out what's next.

The chapters in our lives end
The end of that story
Or
What then?
Athletes never beat time
Hang on in forever?

The day turns into the night
You're waking up again.

The answers come and go

There is identity in being a martyr
Knowing/not knowing
What to do
Who to be
What to give
Giving it all away
Perpetual obligation
Perpetual melancholy
A purpose, a project
Completed?

What then?

We all have empty nests
Broken hearts

Projects inevitably end

Standing, looking into the distance,  hand blocking the sun
Lingering
Wondering
Is there one more thing

Yes there is

Moving on
Saying bye bye
it's time.

Alone again.

Resting the mind is not easy
it dances like a sparrow
and speaks like a babbler
seeking the minutest grain
from the jungle of weeds
tweeting what it has to say
from one perch to the other
in all weather.

Then the aching wings falling slow
by the cold north wind
find no worth in the haste
seek a rest
perching upon some heart.

When unbroken silence is all it has
the mind rests easy in peace.

(a travelogue cont...)

Waiting for summer
just outside the tallest
mountain’s door

Where the emerald vale
streams spring glacial-grey
river waters,
west into the setting
midnight sun

Another resplendent day’s
paling whisper set free
in an unseen blink
and an unheard sigh

In these unwonted moments  
eyes rise up to touch
the beckoning sky
like a bug drawn
to the light

Upward over
highest mountain's skies
abides everything
worth rising for

It's so rare
in this fleeting life,
when a dream
for a moment
comes true ―
 
you come to understand
how deep is silence

and ...
it doesn’t really matter
when there’re no words


harlon rivers

June 9th. 2018
11:55 pm Denali sunset ...
"don't dream it's over"

Lick the words
from my lips
let them slide down
your throat
like fruited jewels,
   dark, hard candies
   that melt into cream
a healing liquid  
oozing into my
               ventricles,
pumping milky beats
out through
           your cells
permeating the deep
of my wild
  
My syllables will
   wrap themselves
      around your syntax
frothy hybrids
of buttered silk
                and irony
heart-to-heart
conversations that
flow into the ether,
as heaven's night
endlessly begins

We twirl our tongues
into guttural utterings,
lustful verse
that glides from
slick-fervored ice
to an outpour
                    of lava
We feed each other
dreams
our saliva like honey
dripping with dawn's
tender glow
as we open up
like baby birds,
begging to be nourished
at all costs

Here,
in this lingual forest
Your breath finds a home
on my tastebuds,
my tongue
in your
          cheek
            
In between the tumults
of our
exploding oceans
This
     is how we
  love

She drew each suit
Of a deck of cards
On my arm with a
Black ballpoint pen
We nursed our shared glass
And took ice once
All the customers had taken
Their motorbikes into the night
We made love beneath
The fairy-lights and
Cleansed ourselves
In simple, beautiful poverty

I knew that the ink
The glass
The ice
The fairy-lights
And the ***
Would all burn out
Or wash away

I knew that the poverty
Would lift
Eventually
And expose
Our rushed
And reasonless
Foundations

You’re not the unreachable stars
You’re not the almighty sun
You are every blade of grass
You are every deer in the forest
You are every ripple in the pond

But I
I am the restless moonchild
Roaming senselessly through
The starless sky

But I
I am the moon that wakes
Among slumbering hours
And sleeps through life

But I would rather be the dust
That buries your loneliness
But I would rather be the dews
That wash away your sorrow

Your gift for me is my love for my humility
Your happiness for me is my willingness
To be your eternal shadow and not just
The momentary sunshine

You’re not the sky high above all
You’re not the gale that takes all
You’re the dove I wish to caress
You’re the untouchable dandelion

And I
I am the dark clouds above all fleeing life
The inescapable starless night

And I
I am the gale wind that leaves nothing behind
That goes away silently
When there’s no hope left to be find


And I would rather be the catkins
That hold on to your dreams in flight
And I would rather be the honeybees
That take away your bitterness, despair and fright

Please show me how to love my humility
Please bring back my happiness, my willingness
To be your eternal shadow and not just
Momentary sunshine

For my love for you is not above all,
            But within every breath of life.