Inside the
immolation
of my flaming mind
almost roasting
in its own juices,
thoughts trickling down
into physical matter
and into the
lush cusp of words,
words that twist and turn
and curl around my tongue
as they wind their way
into realms divine
and sacredly profane,
entwining the alchemy
of lost magic
with the fabric of stars--
Yes,
in this trance of absolute divinity
I stand within
my own sacred love temple
ready to take in
whatever comes
in highest form
ready to unfurl and release it
into the breathing spaces
tightly packed between
the tapestry of this existence
so closely interwoven
within the stellar,
cellular matter
of our beings
of earth
of constellation
of fire
of sea
Here,   I need to not only
cast my thoughts
into the vastness of air
not only paint the night sky
with sounds that emerge,
so guttural, from my
deepest knotted chords
but actually consummate
this force within
consume it and be consumed
bring it to light
with my own
sacrosanct
manifestation…
blast it forth
in shoals of white
conjure it from
the source, pristine
    fight the fight
for truth, for love
           and all that's
in
      between

on the verge of wilderness
imminent silence*

welcome
the sun stroking
peaks aglow
the thundering falls
mist-kissed rain
the solitude
so rarely reached
too often breached

stillness loosen
untamed words
in the native tongue
before thoughts
unspoken
became yours
mine
ours

to the wild
bear these
cryptic symbols
scrawled on
my halved heart
tokens of longing
succor
for the lost

I can see it all so clear
as the wind from the oncoming storm
ravages the trees on the Northern side of the mountain
as if trying to uproot them

I gaze from above on Bear's Den
as Connor Brooks tries to finish the mowing
on his 40 acres and Molly's cries for him
to get inside before dinner gets cold
echo upwards in waves
beautiful waves

The Village Market
serves the last few customers
before closing up for the evening
Birdman, Mike and Fuzzy,
all friends since high school
are stopping at the Horseshoe Curve
for a glass or three
while discussing their shared memories

and of-course
Sarah...scurrying to get the clothes off the line
before the downpour
unaware her every sensual move is being watched
by the unlucky poet
who didn't quite grasp the moment
and reap the harvest
that lay there awaiting his attention
so many years have passed


timing never was something that seemed to fall my way
always seemed to be a day behind
realizing what I should have done
the day before
most things you get over
most missed chances eventually dissolve into the blur of life
like a bruise

Sarah never dissolved
never blurred

she hesitates for a moment after picking up the basket of clothes
as if she heard a far off voice call her name

it's just the wind

Mr Fickle Winkled me into
a Pickle Can Anyone Stop the

Hammer And Sickle Look
at me You're a violent twinkle

causing Mistaken silence still
Fighting Skull and Bones stop

the Violent Hurricane bane
Drain the plane from disdain

cram the eulogy Dust bury
Pharaohs underground Pound

a fountain of Sonic Youth
Chord at the Court of God

incinerate the grin made in sin

Is it true what the scientists say
That life on earth will end one day?

I guess that they are probably right
There'll be no day, there'll be no night

The ozone layer is full of holes
Rising temperatures melting ice floes

Will we perish in enormous Floods?
The thought of it just chills the blood

Or will earthquakes bury us out of sight
Will fire devour us without a fight?

Storm and tempest, some folk say
Will make us kneel in final prayer

The forecast? Now  I'll give you mine:
It will end in two thousand and seventy nine


Keith Wilson            June 25 2016

Mourning life when faith is sacrificed leaving insecurities to call upon the holy spirit

Invoke unconscious supernatural divine being within self to inspire delusions cleverly

Out smart preservation leaving soul naked inside embodied wise eyes

Journey soul embarks on the Astral plane to find **Spirit