cease awhile
and hold commune
with his fabrication
and admire
every cordant note
of a symphony yet unwritten.

t’was a nymph
saw i a-Maying
her comeliness
beggared the reach of art
outreached my arms
to touch her tidy traces
alack, gone she
in the mists of morn.

the moon-kissed bed
was light and life
with verdant dewy leaves
astride the speechless
mountain tops
a journey was begun
to rain again
his darts of gold
to every waiting one.
the blanket of
the skies was azure blue
on limpid waters seen
along her hurried way
she dropped those
gaudy flowrets beam.
saw i her locks
in every nodding palm
‘neath the tropic sun.
t’was birds do counterfeit
her melody the
rustling bamboo stole.

they utter now
sweet words of love
as winds doth
beat and blow
the roar and rush
of the swollen river asks:
what is it to you?

sprightly now
the winged ones
from bud to bud alight.
athirst, searching for that
self-same delight.
the crown of earth’s
flowing seas of grass
its mighty arms apart
attentive to the
incoherent whispers of
the breeze that chances by.

what now
messengers of the skies?
what saw you beyond
the floating clouds?
what find you at the
end of the rainbow?
what secrets lie hid
in yonder hills?
pray tell this
to the hurling spar
of the ever-running brook
for down and down and down
she goes to her anxious
ocean-brother.

could she have paced
the grotesque shore
to appease the bleating sea?
now she laps up
the sand-white beach
now she beats
the rock-bound shore with
shrill indignant murmur.

the shore and plain
nod assent
nay, my search is done.
twelve knotty hours
of day are gone and still
my find is none
to tease the gloomy
brow of night
aflame is all the west
in its expiring redolence
my happy nymph adieu.

i
a wee shaft of beam
across
a sea of chilly darkness:
dashing on, dashing long
a chain
of disturbing crispy waves.
a haunting pitch
of sirens, of winging gulls.
…then
a whistle in the dark

                    ii
i have bled.
and ever bleeding
is resurgence.
the stones are stained now
not all are stained yet.
but i can hold no more.
no more.

                    iii
to listen would have been enough
but spoke i
to deaf-mutes, clayey forms.
and every uttered little word
faded like receding undertone.
and then
conspiracy of silence,
misquotations,
sharing of once
too friendly shoulders.
a nod would have been enough,
or a pat,
or any like gesture;
they turned askance
and i fled… fled away.

                    iv
back to my chambered shell
back to my cradle
where there are many whispers.
and every fateful swing
of the pendulum
i reel and ride the wheel of fancy,
embrace false idols
like one fearful of his god
if only to escape the haunts
of conscience;
tremble at approaching footsteps,
shriek at every shadow.

                    v
i shall walk barefoot again
past leafless stumps
windborn, heated, and bowed,
‘cross an oasis grown desert dry,
past anthills now dunghills,
‘neath rapid flutter
of widespread murky wings,
past cliff edges
where resound pampered echoes,
while arched in deceitful hues
a rainbow.
…i scan the blue… i pause…

                   vi
i await a lily-white stork
or there shall be no curtain speech.

i
how like a napping innocent
the song was stolen away
when i my reason bribed
could not find where i belonged.
a patch is made of unrimed rime
and *** by *** it tore away
telling awhile
never will, you may.
i groped. you lingered
you waned. i waited.
when i would
to the solitude of
the rocks have gone
alas!
i found,
the singer of the song.

ii
bend bamboo
to the gusts and gails
that sweep, sweep.
swing back to whirl again
as the winds its fancy bend
so do – ne’er complain.
on windy ludes
so low you bow
after you kissed
the earth below
embrace you the sun.
sing now you violins
the rustles of enchantment
of dancing toes
it’s a mellow melody
… lingers on…

iii
useless are
the wings of birds
if the wide and brimless sky
to them are yet untold.
if none to care
and none to pine
how can a sign
of triumph bare
as birds and sky
as twains do share?

iv
full moon and empty arms
for every setting sun?
i fled thy silvern chatter
of vanished cries
and curling past.
suns have gone now.
and seeking never find.
no moon and empty arms
but when were you
not starbeam
and when not star
not beam.
if you could be
but how!
if you could see
but now!

v
came here, but,
did not tarry long.
a handful of sand
a greedy grip
a clutch, and,
through the fingers slip
till naught is left
but an empty grip.
she is come
know i
when gone.

i
this parody of life beyond
a roaring loom of time
like an embrace
momentous
through the battled equinox of chance
the stirrings and strivings
born of earth and sky
toil, whine, whimper, moan
wait and tremble, hope and pray
then
the clear shining after rain
we sail the lifetide
on leaky bottoms
never to sight dry land again

                   ii
behind
        the shards and wrecks
       of innocent vagaries
       of wayward plunges
       that flee the point
beside
       unobserved but observing
       a sentient mould of slime
       raddled
       at break-neck hurry
before
       is wrinkled wisdom
       mellow laughter
       a hand-made unborn
      of a callow womb
hereafter is ever
now is gone by
past is prelude

                  iii
snowwhite or pitchblack
       lowly or lofty
       free-born or fettered
       yearling or aging

      worms shall feast
      upon thy flesh  
      to elements irreducible
      and in thy nakedness
      come face to face
      with thy maker

I cannot find you a token
of my well wishes for the day;
and I wish you well, not only now,
but ever, ever all the way.

These stones are cheap,
yes, they are even fake.
If only I could make them speak,
that the heart that giveth,
is not counterfeit.

The hurts and foibles,
the tears and errors;
these all I have brought to you.
These too shall have an end,
        they must;
and in their end --
        a beginning.

My best wishes again.