Now the Spring has returned to my life
I feel the earth begin to grow.
Soft and green the trees are leaning down
And the winter winds don’t blow.

Yet I know that Spring is fleeting.
In a heartbeat it is gone
Even now the flowers are fading,
The blossoms slowly drifting down.

Bringing Spring inside my life
So ephemeral, yet so profound
Holding it warms my heart,
So dried and worn from winter storms

I celebrate the birdsong symphony
The bright colors all around
In the morning light Spring lies with me
Dreaming down so soft and warm

And the waking earth
Stirs me to grow as well
Telling me to try and try again.
Like the new sprouts on the trees

Now the Spring has returned to my life.
I feel the earth begin to grow.
Soft and green the trees are leaning down,
And the winter winds don’t blow.

SANTIAGO
The road seen, then not seen, the hillside hiding
then revealing the way you should take,
the road dropping away from you
as if leaving you to walk
on thin air, then catching you,
holding you up,
when you thought you would fall,

David Whyte.

The Covid Pilgrimage

Walking in the red dust
Made of the remains of the many dead.
There is still a path between
The broken walls and dying trees.
Black swans flying over me.
The sky is uncomfortable,
Twisting grey and dark clouds, tumbling.

The pestilence covers the low hills like fog.
Tendrils and squalls blowing towards me,
Leaving me afraid, masked, and cloaked.

There are others, masked and covered.
Mostly they avoid me like I am dangerous,
Because I am

For a seemingly never-ending time
The Orange King cavorted ahead.
Lying, shaking his scepter
Then he stumbled and fell away
Leading the unwary far into the wilderness.
I can still hear their cries,
That now sound much more like screaming.

After an impossible time
I have reached the crest of a low hill.
And there—could it be—so far away,
there is a light, a beacon on the trail.
I feel a roaring in my ears,
My eyes blurred with tears.
It changes colors but it is still there,
A light shining at the end of this Camino.

I am still walking in the red dust,
Still mostly alone, cloaked and masked,
But now I feel lighter, stronger.
I hear a child laughing, a bird singing,
And the relief of Joy comes to me.

The pestilence still crouches on the ridges
Coils of menacing clouds approach.
But I find myself hoping and reaching out a hand
To those I love.
I am learning a lesson from the pilgrimage.
Today my heart is open.

Gary Gibbens, Jan 2021

Sitting here in Limbo, Waiting for the dice to roll
Sitting here in Limbo……
2020 seemed like another insane, poorly written reality show
The Orange King was jumping around the stage
Eructating lies in all directions
The year-round celebration of wealth, Super Bowl, me two criminals, Oscars
Glittering media stars parading in flashing garments
And jeweled eyelashes intercut with global warming
Stock market soaring and then:
The Pale Horseman came to town
At first most everyone smiled and lied
The Orange King assured us it was a big nothing burger


But Covid soon flowed into all our lives
Our screens flashing with red and black numbers
Then the Lines of the dead, the diseased
the jobs lost, the hearts of the cities filled with silence
The ICUs filled with flashing machines and the vicitms
No longer could the lies cover the honesty of fear
Soon quiet solemn doctors recited the grim truths
Except for the Orange King who could not stop yelling obscenities
Every night the horseman swung its great scythe
And the coffins were shrouded in mass graves
The parties have ended, the arenas are empty
The true competition of trying to stay alive begins
Silence, except the ambulances screaming by
The tv anchors have poor lighting, bad makeup,
Mumbling behind their masks
Some caught the illness, some cried, some tried to comfort us


Now with springtime all around us,
Covered with an abundance of green life
Are our soft bodies safe from the dread horseman’s hand?
But no, even in time of quarantine and fear
The police ****** black men
Tear gas and fire fill the darkened streets
The Second Horseman is now riding
Cities are on fire
Can those of us who still love struggle towards
That far green place, where we all live in justice and in peace?
Do we have the courage to carry on?
Listening to all of those who have been murdered and exploited?
The Gray men with their wealth and weapons think we will forget
Smirking and planning their next robberies
Both the Horsemen are ready to strike
And now is the time for our choice, 1861, 1914, 1939, 1968…NOW.
Gibbens 4/3—6/16/20

A Vision Waiting—1972-2018 key of C
I dreamed I was a Navajo
Riding on the plains
Through a herd of Buffalo
Running in the rain
And the mountains
They seem higher now
The purple and the gray
Filling up the western sky
For the ending of the day

The evening’s full of darkness
But the stars are clear and bright
And the howling of the wolves
Tells the story of the night
Still I’m searching for a hidden spring
With three green trees beside
Where a vision waits for me
To give me peace tonight.
GJC

You want it darker
We **** the flame (L. Cohen)
For Leonard

Now the Orange king is walking
The worshipers crawling along behind
Back slapping with both broken arms
Polishing the gilded chrome

We will spend some time with our faces
Pressed against the wires
Dodging the guards and pepper spray
Hoping for that midnight beauty that still remains
Like music in the freezing rain

Oh Leonard, I need you, I need you, I need you
I need you now




Still the broken bell is hanging in that old tower
The view is clear down to the straits
Where dark water rolls below empty skies

I hear his husky voice behind the silence;
The game is fixed, the dealer lied
Still Alexandra moves ahead of us in such beauty
Sparkling motes floating in the sun

The King in Orange is shouting now
Leading all of them to the land of plenty
Where the pillar of flame guides him
And manna falls from on high
He does not know the tomb is empty
That the ancient heart is broken

In the land of truth
That secret place
The bell is ringing in the old tower
Black birds clustered around the rim

The light is going out of the land
Out on the seas a small light is moving
Struggling towards the fog bank
In the growing dusk, we see his light
We see his light, once more we see the light
Somewhere we hear a red violin
Flooding the darkness with beauty
A king chained to a broken throne whispers "Hallelujah"
And a black woman sings “Peace”
In many languages
The bell rings

Then he is gone
We fall to the ground
Wrapped in our shawls
Soaking the earth with our tears

And the angel said,
“He is not here, the tomb is empty”

Then he is gone
And the secret life is darker
He is gone

G. Gibbens 11/16

By the rivers dark,
Where it all goes on
By the rivers dark
In Babylon    L. Cohen

Once a story of shrines
Paths winding over open hills
Holding beauty under blue satin skies
Cold silver moon floating on luminous rays
Dark waters with tongues of white
Murmuring
This was our journey
Ever before us the promise of dawn
Gold light spreading the story of love and light

Now, lost in the ravenwoods
We struggle to hold on
Staggering in these diseased swamps
The roads to the undying lands long since drowned
And everywhere around us the armies of the night
Trying to ensure death for all, including themselves
Surrounded by their victims, starving, wounded,
Sinking in the black waters
We struggle on, trying to save them and ourselves
And I ask you, my guide, my follower, my friend
Where are we bound?
We can only follow the sound of our beating hearts
And hope.
Selah
G. Gibbens, 2015

Clothed in its blanket of birds
Great arms reaching impossibly high
Her leaves filtering the light between shadows
And flashing diamonds of sky
For thousands of travels round the sun
She worshipped the turning earth
Through raging fires, the shaking ground, frozen winters
Droughts for decades burned the soils,
The rivers disappeared and still she held herself
High and strong
Even the humans recognized her power
Leaving offerings around her roots
Fruits of the earth, fish and painted stones

And then George came
The natives told him it was the largest tree in the world
The Mother Tree
He needed to monetize it
No one was going to come out to see it
And he needed capital for investments (mostly *****)
So he cut her bark off
Just the first 20 feet or so
Carried it off and put it on a train
For paying customers to see (two feet thick and 20’ high, oh my!)
They say she lived for another year or two before she died
They drove iron spikes into the trunk so visitors could climb up her skeleton
And over a century later, over a hundred feet of her trunk
Still rises over the valley of the giant trees

I like to think that the Mother,
That burned spar on the hill
Is still trying to protect us
From ourselves.
Selah
2015

And his eyes have all the seeming of a demon’s that is dreaming,
    And the lamp-light o’er him streaming throws his shadow on the floor….
Quoth the Raven, “Nevermore.”
E.A. Poe

When we were younger we walked paths of beauty
Up dusty steps before the sunrise
Until the sun rose over red stone arches
Through the mist of rainbows from the falls
And the golden eagles screamed over us
Flying down the long trails of morning

Though we were afraid, we thought that maybe
We knew enough and loved enough to follow the dawn
Surely there was more to our journey than
Shiny vehicles surrounded by summer lawns
Living in false palaces while the forests burned around us

Life broke us many times and our pride
Like damaged feathers pulled us down
We could not find the true song
There were strange voices from the stars
But no one believed our translations

Now we are older, our hands are worn
We are so weary
And the Raven has come
His eyes are shiny and feathers black
He moves his head to one side
With a cynical call he derides our struggles
Tells us, “No more dreaming
No more wistful stories of the time before,
Nevermore.”

Though my heart is still burning
With broken dreams and misplaced lore
I have not forgotten the cerulean blue morning skies
The voices of ancient children still singing
And my love laughing by the waters

Perhaps this old Raven will attend me
Another journey though our wings are sore
And oversee another sunrise
On those beautiful, blissful shores.

Gibbens, 2015

At Qadisiyyah, Khalid, the great Islamic leader, defeated the Sassanids or Persians in 636 AD leading to the conquest of Persia by Islam* Recently there was a battle between ISIS and the Iraqis in the same place.


Firing the Kord 12.7 heavy machine gun
In the back of the Toyota was powerful
Especially in the dark
The muzzle flash half a meter long

He was an instrument of the Divine
Blessed be his name

The brothers were crossing the same red orange soil
Where Khalid defeated the Sassinids
Down that long road that led to Bagdad

Everything was so pure, so clean
No thoughts of that skinny sickly man, his father
Or mother’s tears and wailing
The swollen bodies left in ditches
All the innocent dead
Just the wind and the dust
Hands on the trigger, the road unwinding like a rope

Two f-18s sliding through the sky at twilight
All the displays lit
Coming on the convoy from behind
Missiles  locked and launched, hostiles hit
Another pass, two more flashes
Back to the carrier, 10 out of 10

He opened the eye that could see
Noticed the stars burning like a river in the skies
A sickle moon setting
Faded into a dream state for a while
Images of a boy running through the ocean surf towards….
Then the pain tore him back
The heavy gun lying across his legs and belly
Something wrong with his right arm
But he could move the left
Wiped crusted red from his eye, called out to his brothers
Just silence and the wind
Moved his left hand to the trigger grip of the heavy gun
Could still traverse a little bit
Clicked off the safety and squeezed
The gun roared with a spout of flame
Now let them come

The drone jockey was bored
Waiting to go to the bar
He’d texted Jess and she’d said maybe, maybe…
Ops guy on the headset said activity on the road
So he flew the drone down to the still smoking ruin of trucks
Sure enough, movement and a muzzle flash
Target acquired and Hellfire away
Get some
Screen went white
More bad guys blown and gone

The blast uncovered part of an inscribed stone slab
The writing could have been Persian or Babylonian or…
Might have been about a battle or a grave, we’ll never know
The carrion eaters began to come
And the red orange dust slid across
The road.

We could not understand because we were too far and could not remember because we were traveling in the night of first ages. And those ages are gone, leaving hardly a sign and no memories. We are accustomed to look upon the shackled form of a conquered monster, but there, there you could look at a thing monstrous...and free.  The Heart of Darkness

Slowly ever so slowly
Gliding above the burning things below
Some still moved but we did not attend

We were tired of carrion food
There was too much
Still we could hear the distant passage
Of a great beast
Earth shaking roars and shrapnel filled flames
Shaking the backs of our eyes
We waited for that moment of stillness
When the earth breathed between eruptions
Just like that night in Stalingrad
Or Gettysburg when the cannon stopped that summer afternoon
All that could be heard were
The groans of the wounded
Then the clatter of the gunships returned
The spell was broken
Just as it began to move toward the lines of tracers and the 20mm rapid-fire,
Flinging the broken skeleton of the city before it
The beast met our eyes for a moment
Shared a sly grin
Then we knew it for our own
Our private monster

On the zero night
It doesn’t matter if someone loves you
Or if you have something between you and the emptiness

Broken trailers with incoherent messages sprayed
“Kitten *****”, “Idelibo frant”, messabi todar”
But still the silence descends
The Buddha is confused and lost

Frightened men with their heavy guns
Counting the bullets
Will there be enough?
Sliding hands over ****** knives

We have our pizza, our beer
The screaming is muted for tonight

Please tell me, ghost of the future
Can our superficial images of beauty
Cover our despair?

Still the digital display is counting
The numbers, though meaningless have changed.

If we turned off the lights of Las Vegas
Would we still have a chance to breathe?
What eyrie darkness.

The drones are clustered above the targets
But there is uncertainty

Still the moon shines
And the silence builds

Gibbens 2013-08-21

Sliding in the gray smoke of sleep
He seemed to see another version of the night

Where does this pain come from?
The broken concrete caskets of the innocents
Crawling toward the light
Poisoned by their own frightened governments
Who are cheering for their deaths.

Why does my heart hurt?
Brutal men in smug suits
Confident with closed faces
All they know is power
All they know is contempt
They know what is best for us
And will never answer
Why they hurt us so much.

In the throbbing of their brutal drums
The cacaphony of cowardice
They move

I see the Dragon lady come
Her face is tilted up
Eyes shining with the tears
Of many losses

She is not afraid
With her smiles of wise innocence
She still holds flowers
And stops to comfort an animal in pain

They are confused by her eyes
And her voice
Telling them to stop the lies

So she shows a different power
Like a matador
She directs their blind and massive charge
Into the stony walls

In the last vision before waking
I see her standing  
There are birds singing
And the sun is breaking through a cloud

"where the air was never extreme, which for rain had a little silver dew, which of itself and without labour, bore all pleasant fruits"

After a weary journey
Our faith revealed
The Shining Isle

Where the wounded king was healed
Land of the undying
Their ancient glittering eyes all seeing
All foes long gone
Fear and worry undone
Graceful,quiet, deep browed
Long fingered hands
Stars and jewels chiming in silvered hair
As they walk those quiet paths

Over the water suddenly calm
We saw that glow
A light shining from the highest tower
The bells tolling from far away

Then with regret
Which made our throats clench with swallowed tears
We turned our hulls away
Back to the shadowed mortal land
Where the armies of the night
Struggle in unending battle
Broken plains strewn with bodies
Where the grey faceless men hold weapons
Dark with power

We always knew
Deep Down
This is the place
Where we belong
Where we belong

Avalon

The killer awoke before dawn, he put his boots on
He took a face from the ancient gallery
And he walked on down the hall
J. Morrison

AR-15, 100 shot drum magazine
.40 cal Glock semi-auto
Full body armor, riot helmet
Yes, I'm ready for the show

Yes, after all those years
Being the good, smart boy
Getting good marks
Always being polite
Pablo has finally invited me
To the "Magic Theatre"

Now all the Steppenwolves of my mind
Begin to run, teeth dripping with blood
Laughing and howling as they begin the hunt

Power vibrates through me
To the throbbing of the weapons
The screaming of the prey
Until all the magazines are empty

And I'm left alone again
Just the police asking the meaningless questions
And far away the Steppenwolf
Runs through the shadows.

HEAT

At first it was sort of like a dog lying next to the bed
Panting
My head was warm and without any covers I was
Sweating
The pillow was damp, the breathless air would not
Move

I tried to remember the cold, clear nights of stars
Crackling
But I felt my tongue drying out in the stagnant air
Swollen

So now, we live in the big heat bubbling like a
Furnace
Everyday we feel it like a weight, like we might be
Guilty

In Iowa, the corn is dying in July, no ears are
Opening
The frogs have burrowed back into the cracked mud
Hoping

On the freeway, the cars shimmer without motion
Melting
On the baking hills, the anguished forests now
Flaming
The rivers shrunken to dusty rocks, fish
Dying

When I cry to the angels at the end of all Roads
Begging
Praying for some relief, somewhere in the ashes
Drifting
They forbid me with their living swords of fire
Burning

Summer Solstice

"Everybody knows that the change is coming
"Everybody knows that the deck is stacked"
Leonard Cohen

In Colorado, the Cache La Poudre is burning
That's where they hid the gunpowder
Has it blown yet?

In the Southeast Asia Enterprise Zone
The suicide nets are ready for another night's harvest
Do we understand that our beautiful electric screens
Are polished with blood?

In Syria, the death squads are arming
For another day in the abattoir
Everyone is ready for the bodies

I called out to you in the night
I dreamed you loved me
From the bottom of your soul
In the morning, your e-mail address
Was blocked, texts came  back forlorn

The earth is crying out
But Jimi is so long gone
No one understands
And the wind howls alone

In the land of plenty
We're all tucked into our corners
Of the unlimited cage match
Our abs are ripped
Our tattoos look good
But our eyes are empty.

Winter is coming.

Falling (1)


I can still remember the climb out of darkness
It was aching slow
Many times I stopped
There were good holds sharp cut
Hands jambing in cracks that were cool
A ledge for resting
Friends showing me a better line
But I was afraid
Behind, below the emptiness of the abyss
Like a mouth opening
Darkness breathing
Still I came to a high point
And really viewed my surround
For the first time

Crazy Escherian stairs and lines
Cracks and climbs
Exploded from my gaze
Destroying every piece of knowledge
Every safe passage gone
Paisleys of twisting patterns
Purple reds, greens, orange
Twisting into a cacophony of images, bodies
Thoughts both shimmering and unborn

And my pinnacle
My granite stand
Dissolving into sand

With the panic of my tortured lungs wheezing
My heart pounding like some ancient broken bell
I leaped,
Hands desperately clutching
And held onto something I hoped was strong
I closed my eyes as it gradually dissolved
And heard the exhalation of the abyss
Welcoming me

Suwreel

The tale of the fat birds
Fire feathered in the dark woods
Asks the myth mountains
Snow drooping and year stained
The long magic of tears crystaled

Sing Cywril to Balour
Make the glad telling
Glow the Tenebrae's darkness
From the fen-mars to Dagash

The truth remains shuttered
The hard fists raise towers
The exhausted land prospers
Heavy with blood thirst

Sing Cywril, Sing, Sing

Gibbens, 68, 12

Silence behind his eyes

Before sunset

Exploded into tornadoes

Sometimes, when he was lucky,
His music could fill a small room
Maybe with an old cat
or a dusty painting as an audience

Lately, he would push his songs out
In the heavy quiet air
But it seemed the cat
Had gone to sleep

Dedicated to the current constructive political debate in the US

Why spyder phantoms
Does your film so choke me
On this cloudless night?

Is it the dust in my throat?
The longing in my head?
Or that door slowly closing behind her?

When the owls fly
The fantastic colors flow behind them.
Vermillions, arsenics, iridescent chromatics billowing
I tremble to follow
An anemic echo of their wings

All my green algaed
Freudian slips sprouting in a hundred greasy
Toilet bowls of the soul
Grow and nurture my endless
Turmoil of rotting emotions
And again comes the
Whirlwind


It speaks with the voices of dead cows
Rotting in the summer heat
Under the flat skies
Saying:

"Return to me my Anger!
Have I not hollowed the ****** hills
And trampled the fanatic iron snakes of doom?
Return again to me my anger!!

Sapphire mother
I welcome your longings
Your burdens
Your low moan at the sunrise
But there are none amoung us
Who love or trust you
You soft blue monster.
Selah

I am haunted by iguanas
Crawling though the attics of my dreams
And lately my front teeth
Are growing some kind of orange fur

I worry that ring tailed lemurs
Have stolen my remote control
I'm ridiculed by spider monkeys
Holding my underwear for ransom

My faithful cat ignores my worries
Unless her dish is empty
Now ants seem vaguely threatening
And magpies watch me in the morning

Late at night, I wonder what advice
Kafka or maybe Aristotle could offer
But they've never friended me or twittered.

And still she holds the light
Long ago, she felt betrayed by love
As a child her special place was gone
A child alone with strangers

She thought she was broken
Growing up twisted
Not smart or normal
Still she held the light

Finally the world of words
The secret knowledge opened for her
And she began to yearn
To see and learn

Then she was desired
Confused but excited
By men especially and their crude grasping
That was supposed to be somewhat like affection

The long history of men
Ignoring or fixing her
Needing her for their own devices
Stubborn she still holds on

Still the light shines
There amid the rocks
And wreckage of lost hopes

A signal for someone
To see the danger
Still she holds the light

?Jihadi??

Orange sand

Raw sewage

Diesel fumes and burning flesh

Screams and the black blood boiling

This is Sadr City

It might still be mourning

Time for prayer

Imams calling

Even now
We hope for the night

In darkness, we lose our reasons not to hide

Between the sirens and the screaming

We still dream
Our dreams

Involve silence
Not the detonations

Ripping closer and closer

We dream of thick re-enforced cement

Faltering drones

IEDs that fail

Strong hands on friendly weapons

And somewhere a door that opens on home

Warm food, open arms and home.

Slow as tomorrow uncreated
I've wandered down the empty roads of time
Waiting to taste your laughter
Waiting to hold your smile

It seems an enormous hour
Since I've felt soft patterns like your mind
Knowing those faint perfumes
The scents of your words touching mine

Alone with you is like the sunrise
Glowing through the new warming earth
The sadnesses of unknown sorrows
The pains of time I've long forgot

Music of our desire freezes
A quick lilting tune without end
Though I know I'll never hold you forever
Feeling that I'll never taste you again.

At last the traveler,

Aware that darkness is coming on,

Though weakened and shaken from the steep climb

Has achieved the pass, the high divide.


Below and before him the day is fading

Just the glow of a village

Flickering in the dancing air


He thinks he can maybe see the light

That shines from her home

He imagines her reading, looking out the window

Or walking outside to view the evening star

Her pale hair floating in the restless breeze

He wants to be there with her

He wonders if he can find the path

With nine iron rods

We held the gods

Balanced over jam jars

Then with nine iron bars

We broke those jars

And kissed the gleaming

Crystal knives left behind


Later we spead

Their essences on pumpernickel bread

We were glad when their folly

At last rested in our bellies

In the confusion

Of our purpled splintered mouths

We smiled

Cloud

Morning was so simple, fat early

Two
We sat over shadow

Them
To leave without loving

Yellow
A sun drama in blue
Bird songs flying

Final
Evening and songs
Spinning and weaving
Death themes and jewels

Crowning
Sly sleep with ease

Then
Slide, smile dream
Slide, smile dream

Darling
Key of E



Darling, darling, darling
Don't you think the sun will rise today?
Darling, darling, darling
Don't you think it'll rise today
Oh, don't you see it shining
Don't it make your mind feel okay?

Travelling in the darkness
Yeh, travelling in the rain
Travelling in the darkness
Yes, I'm travelling in the rain
I can't see where I'm going
But I've got to leave again

Walk me to the corner
Tell the man about your soul
Yeh, walk me to the corner
We'll tell the man about your soul
If he don't give us money
We're bound to leave this hole

Darling, darling, darling
Don't you think the sun will rise today?

The sun sank in the tendrils of the winter winds

Light quickly faded

The long night begins

What is our hope for the spring to come beyond this winter?

The old rulers are dying, their grasp weakened

Their desperate ****** clawing for power falters

What will the youth of the world build?

Overthrowing the gray tired old men with no vision

Will there be a new light glowing in an abandoned barn?

An opening of joy to a time of new growth?

It is now dark in the cavern

The animals have bowed their heads

Fearing the burning world that surrounds

Glaciers melting, deserts blowing

Is there a song that will lead us to

A new morning, Sagan's galaxy rise?

With a billion suns shining?

Or will we crouch in the corners again

Fighting for any lethal advantage

Sacrificing the world?

We should pray

(In a minor key)

Deep down, way down below
It's hard to see it all go
You know time passes
And still people die
Fighting the war that ended
So long ago
Deep Down

It's a world that's hurting
A world full of pain
lord lord
It's hard to catch the joy
And just be alive
Deep Down

So now it's just you
And now it's just me
We touch each other
And we're still free
Deep Down
Way down below
So hard to see it all go
Deep Down

She shuffled into the dull green room
Perched on the edge of the chair
Dressed black on black
Lace mantilla over a dark scarf
Black dress so worn that
the white threads were showing through

Face the color of the adobe
In the shadows
She did not walk in the sun

She clutched a rosary in her hand
It trembled as if from prayer with no sound
She called me mister
Never raised her gaze
Still focused on the rosary
I didn't want to
but I had to ask,
"What brings you here?
You seem so sad---"

Like a striking snake
She looked me in the eyes
Pupils hard black shiny
Thin tracks of tears run down wrinkled cheeks
"Mister, they said I must tell you everything
I must confess it all so you can help me"

Mumbling appropriate therapy stuff
I began to listen

"Miquello--quello--ah ah"
She spoke very fast
A story repeated many times
Still filled with pain and longing
"He was so beautiful, my boy
Only he would talk to me
Every day, he would tell me his stories
His time at school, what he learned
My hijo, he was so smart
He would hug me, kiss me
I can still feel his arms
Oh Madre de Dios!"

She bought him a new bike for his paper route
Every day she would walk out to see him come home
To see his face, to feel his happiness to see her

He was coming home just at sunset
She called out, "Miquello"
She saw him smile and wave
Pedalling home to her, excited
He never saw the truck that ran the light
Crushing his body and the new bike

She stood there as the sun set
Watching the ambulance, the police
The little crowd gathered
The officer came to the house
And saw her frozen there
Senora, Senora!!

She keeps his room as a shrine
Everything clean, candles burning
His picture on the dresser
His mangled bike next to the bed
She will not let anybody touch a thing

After the funeral mass
She went to the confessional
The priest told her God forgives
She said that she could not

Black eyes burning
She told me, "If I hadn't called out
If he hadn't seen me, he would be alive,
With children!"  Her thin chest shudders
"Besides, I loved him too much, Mister
God took him from me as punishment
I loved him wrong--malo, malo"

Black lace shuddering in silent sobs
"To **** myself is a greater sin
I'll wait to die--then I'll see him again"

In the quiet room all my empty words
Fall like dust in the emptiness
Silence stretching out to more silence
Her guilt to be resolved only by
Her own slow death.

In the winter darknesss,
Whatever can you see?
I hear that you have turned
Your face away from me

Our time it was not easy
I didn't know what to do
All your love had turned to ice
And the old lies couldn't pull us through

But it seems so cold and cruel
For you to shut me out this way
Surely there were other words
We both had left to say

So forget that you have known me
While this cold wind blows
And snow begins to cover
Those dreams of long ago

In the winter darkness
Whatever can you see?
I hear that you have turned
Your face away from me

Degrees Of Gray In Philipsburg

You might come here Sunday on a whim.
Say your life broke down.
The last good kiss
you had was years ago.
You walk these streets
laid out by the insane,.......
The only prisoner
is always in, not knowing what he's done.....

Richard Hugo, 1967
with many, many apologies to Richard


The Last Prisoner

For years gray man
Huddled in the old cell
In his burning brain
He plots his escape

So quiet and careful he has been
In his scheming. Even in the dark nights
His plan moves forward
The latch is weakening
Under careful pressure the hinges
For the door itself, begin to fail

He imagines the excitement of being released
Of friends who might shout his name,
Buy him a drink
Of his lover, older now, with her knowing smile
Telling him she knew no jail could hold him
Of the light, the sun, the trees in the rain

He grinds his remaining teeth
Brushes thinning hair
Chuckling to himself, thinks of old songs
He has lost any sense of time, can't remember
Winter or Spring

For him there has been the locked door
The endless filing, rubbing, wearing down
Pushing, cursing the barrier that has blighted his life

It happens when is he is drowsing
Half awake, wrapped in rags
That pass for bedding

A strange sound, like a tree falling
Or a sudden heavy blow
And the gate, the door,
The anchor that has blighted his life
Is gone!

He staggers in the light
Blinded nearly
And sees the vague shadows
The empty streets, shops boarded up
An echoing silence, old papers blown

Leaning against the wall
He considers
Should he return to the cell?

Gibbens

The years have slowly stretched out
In the dry space of the heart
Dust has gathered
Dreams of joyful music
Of barefoot boys and maids stringing garlands of flowers
While children giggle
These images fade into the unreality of foolishness
And now my dancing girl lives far away
I only hold her electronically
I can see but not touch

In the secret place of the heart
There are only graves
Mausoleums of love
Fading pictures
Faces turned away
Silence and remorse

Now I step slowly
In dry rocks, broken by sun and wind
The light is flat, glaring
Tongue swollen
It is not the heat that lessens my hope
It is not the sullen hissing of broken stone
It is the horizon never changing
Unrelenting dry hills
Even the color of crumbling ochred rock
Is unchanging

What had been a vague fear
Is now visceral
There is only death here
An ending

Surely somewhere there is moisture
A brackish pool
A muddy well

I dream of water splashing
Sprays of kindly blue
A shy deer bending down
A hint of green in the vastness of empty brown
Maybe a small bird
Some sense of softness, tenderness
No

Even the light is fading now
Like Eliot, I wonder
Is there someone beside me, unseen
an unknown companion?
Only illusions I suppose

So blindly the journey continues
No direction, no real goal
But the stumbling walk itself is all.

Key of A
In January, 2010, Shinseki pointed out that 20 percent of some 30,000 suicides in the US each year are committed by veterans, which means that an average of 18 veterans commit suicide each day.


Was it yesterday it rained?
Grey skies falling slow, it rained
Hidden in the leaves you couldn't see
Where he was lying in the rain

People drive their cars around the town
They love to drive all over town
Out to nightclubs and cafes
He's lying there in the rain

Wonder how many really care?
Not so many really care
When the war is finally done
Guess he doesn't matter any more

Still the time is passing by
I guess that no one's gonna try
To touch his face or hold his hand
Soldier boy dead in the rain.

Will you   won’t you
No ******* way
My rings matching studs  
    Pink Mohawk
On my back
the ****** devours an angel
Monster on my chest throws fire
Serpent coils on my breast at rest
Will you  Why don’t you?
A ****** claw on my thighs
No surprise
Burning knives on my hands
A crying boy on my ***
Crosses on my forehead
Do you want it?
Ghost on my ankles

Through the tears
Burned on my painted hide
I won’t meet your eyes
Skulls on my neck
Show my death
Red sunsets in my eyes
Purple hourglass
           No prize
Will you
Will you
On my neck a dotted line black blood
Drips

Songs from the Illustrated Zombies 2010

His hair is poofed, 8 out of ten
Teeth polished soft white
Back is naired, nails all clipped
Underwear still clean
He is bouncy and blathy
A brassy baritone rips across the set
Co-anchor all Xanaxed and blonded
Can’t feel her glowing red mouth

About to show their favourite clips
Starving umber skinned babies
Distended bellies, chopstick arms
Fly clouded eyes, light fading
Mothers with vacant grey faces

Collapsed buildings, bodies sprawled
Terrified animals dying

Video Head man turns to the camera
Mouths the teleprompter tales
Without meaning
Can’t feel his heartbeat

He’s thinking about his *******
Of 17 year old Crack babes locked in his suite
‘N Just as he starts to get jazzed up

The lights go down and he knows
He knows
He’s just a digital clown
FFFTTT…
The electrons are gone.

Songs of the Illustrated Zombies 2010

The sky was flat and dark
Buildings empty, smears of light
People only gray blobs mostly talking on their phones
As he walked through miles of emptiness

The silence in his mind was the sound
After the door closed for the last time.

His stomach ached, his throat dry
Feet were sore and he couldn't stop
Until he came to the overpass,
The big freeway, 12 lanes of rushing lights
So many, many going somewhere to someone

He'd had one worry
What if he came and there were no cars
Just empty gray cement washed with neon

Well, all right!
The river of metal and light was unstopping
A waterfall of motion and urgency
He was grateful as he put one leg
Then the other over the railing

Falling into the highway of the night

they moved as they always have
with stumbling scraping steps
that gradually become less confused

my first memory was their eyes
pale, strangely large, filled with hunger, searching
and their hair floating wild in the night
echoing their desperate movements

now I see them emerging from the fogs of memory
their waving hands long fingered
with nails like claws
turning their heads from side to side seeking
stumbling down the darkened passages
tortured

when they found the moon
they scorned it
rejected the pale ghost of the sun
they wanted nothing less than the great furnaces of the skies
Aldebaran, Deneb, Altair, Rigel, Alpha-Centari
but they searched in tunnels far from the freedom of the night
leading to false paradigms and delusional discoveries
where they expected unrefuted clarity
they exposed schemes and lies
still they searched until their strength was almost done
until, at the penultimate door
in terror, they found themselves.

From the Illustrated Zombies 2010

Since the beginning he felt the emptiness

The prophet promised love would fill all the empty spaces

He'd be held in light, the answer to the unasked questions

Radiating like a torch

But love so often became the mundane

Buying milk, fixing the faucet,

Reviewing property values

Arguing about new tires.

Where was that path with every footstep

Limed in fire?

That melody that made every muscle

Strain with desire?

Still looking for Rumi somewhere on the road.

Solid in his darkness
Surrounded by stars
He is attempting to soar
He has little grace
Maybe the determination of wings
And his head fixed on his anticipated launch
But perhaps he has already fallen so many years before

Maybe he is old now
Failing to fly so many times
Feathers melted by the starry furnaces
Falling, Falling
Still his heart,
His glowing soul
Has not yet abandoned
Hope for the skies.

Later
He woke to the thick smell of burning oil
Blended with the sweet odor of blood
Covered with the sunburned sand

For a moment everything was okay
Except for the horrors lurking
Out of the corners of his eye

He thought he might be home again
But then the pain from the wound shattered him
Grinding his teeth
His vision went dark for an instant
Then was clear

His gaze moved slowly from the red glistening ruin of his legs
To the broken armored vehicle
A clenched fist burning
Stuck in the broken hatch

He wondered

How did this happen?
Was the mission accomplished?
Had this anguish achieved something?
Before the blackness mercifully removed
All questions.

Down from Aleppo to the sea we rode
Down from Aleppo to the sea
On swaying, snow white camels we rode
Down from Aleppo to the sea


We sailed on a thin jade ship with hope
On a green jade ship with hope
Drifting upon endless seas
In a thin jade ship with hope


To the empty seas for love, we cried
To the empty sea for love
We saw Her walking the curling waves
To the empty seas for love


Visions came through that foggy night
Fantastic, never again seen
Spider lights sliding between the masts
That foggy night never again seen

The cook saw floating jewels, he said
Purple crystals in the sea
Uncovering the inner truths of foam
Purple crystals in the sea


The mate felt an eternal wind
He felt an eternal wind
Breath from the unknown sea it was
Rustling eternal winds


The stars chanted sutras of icy warmth
The stars chanted sutras of ice
Sailing below a schizoid sea
Chanting warm sutras of ice


Before tomorrow we left the glad sea
Before tomorrow we left
Blazing vacuities of nightshade explode
Before the light gathered we left


Down to Aleppo from the sea we rode
Down to Aleppo from the sea
On swaying silk white camels we rode
Down to Aleppo from the sea

Tooling down University Boulevard
The late afternoon sun in the trees
Gray man is satisfied
His hedge fund is overflowing
(But, oh the sting of the lash
the pain ripping across his eyes)
He enters the Parkade

Gray man adjusts his tie
Entering the glass monument
He rises to the high place
He is offered the world, the fullness thereof
And is nearly dashed to pieces
Saved by a giant crane, then
Lowered to his late model upscale sedan

Gray man returns to his cave
He watches the images of drinks
And necessary medications
Flash on the gray walls
Argues with his mate about her
Tile inlay classes
Until only hissing silence surrounds

He dreams of the glass temples
And the super gray priests
Walking among the numbers

Far away in the mountains
The night horses run towards dawn
The dark spider weaves below
And all is still.

There is a cave
Opening to the west
Where the sky glows blue
Framed by walls of darkness

In the centre is a fire
We gather in a circle wide
Around the flames

All have a place
To spell out our tales
In the play of light and shadows

There is a flute and sometimes a drum
The chanting and singing have begun
From a great distance we hear the wind
Bird song and trees at play

Old and young sing the holy songs
The tales of the seasons changing
The stories of the Garden
The forbidden loves
And the fires burning in the heart
The towers falling in the Great Winter
Of the sacrifice
The golden treasure lost
The emptiness of the frozen desert
And the return of spring

There is a cavern
Opening to the west
Where the sky glows blue
Surrounded by darkness

Still he trudges to the office
The blinking phone and the flashing screen orients him
The wounded still seek consolation
The ****** hunters need justification
The hunted plot escape
And in the towers, other gray men seek absolution
From what the city has become

As always he carries his soul under his tongue
Worn to a sliver, nearly forgotten
Still he trudges, more slowly now
Time begins to take away the confident stride

At the end of day
Alone in the darkness, in echoing quiet
He pulls the damp sliver from his mouth
And remembers the dream

Her eyes, a tender hand
A living crystal
The liquid fire of life itself
Flashing in the morning air

Surely there is still a path there?
Somewhere in the empty eyed windows
of the endless gaping towers
Something must remain

And as if directed by some secret plan
The tiny crystal glows
Nudges him towards her quiet day
And then the Gray man knows
He knows
So he trudges slowly, slow