keep on pushing Push the sky away*
Nick Cave & The Bed Seeds

reality is patched
with evolving truths
waning and waxing
between love and hate

if only the trees would know
how hard can it be…
to live in the shadow of the other
with this infinite desire

What do my bones know
about the longing for eternity?
what becomes of truth
if you cannot recognize the simplicity of freedom
in our lungs?
What about the liberty of life
to feed its own destruction?

There is violence in an unknown god’s plans
There is mercy
if you still find a beating heart
in the contractions of pain
and then there may be hope
for some freedom -
to be or not to be
(growing, learning, loving, hating, stepping back,
stepping forward, you please fill in the blanks)

Only together we can bear the sky
we should learn from the woods
how to love the human form
Undivine

In the spaces silent with possibilities
there is contact there is emptiness
“like fire, like panic, like love,
like water, like revolt”

Meteorites are passing following their love
we know we are beautiful when we are alive

how many people do I hold in my breath?
how many lives in my veins?
I do go gently into that good night
(thank you Dylan, meet you there)
To my good aged mothers
To my good aged fathers
To unfold the creases of time

Blinks of eternity they were
Carrying the weight of days
So that my tomorrow
Can be

At dawn the earth gently curves
Giving darkness a name
And I bent over the horizon
In a heart reverence
To my good old mothers
To my good old fathers

Their curses  sculpted the clay
Which I tread on
They planted  their harsh truths
With eagerness, with tears,
With oblivion or patience
And I wonder how the wind
Touched them
How the dust molded
Their wrinkles
How the darkness hid them
From themselves

My mother had a mother
My father had a father
They were young
They were wild
Their dreams ripened
In the sun

And then…
Their living gods
Their violins accompanied
By failure
Their praying to the sea,
To the rain, to the springs
To the sweetness of grapes

Their bones sing in my dreams

It is their right
To be touched
by the waxing
and waning
of time
and love cannot be
without
Innocence

i am not stable
i am not wild
i am not simple
i am not mild
i'm only dreaming
about the mystery
i received
when i was born
a child

i am not yours
i am not mine
i'm only a letter
in the alphabet
of time

Drink the stars.*

Consume them and let them course through your bloodcurrent,
Carrying the fluorescence to your furthest capillaries.
You will see glowing veins scintillate beneath your skin,
As if a thousand cracks are forming on your body--
Allowing the pureness and beauty of your bright soul
To escape its host.

The Air hung tremulous
Waiting with curious expectation
Her mind gliding with Tidepool Dreams
Waves caress the sand - playful.
Teasing.
She listens
To the song of the Sea
The laughing foam becoming giggling mist
The ***** seagull's cry with false grandeur
The weary Wind sighs with a breeze
And Her. In solitude.
Waiting,
*Waiting.

i see a fire in the sky above the pines
on the side of the house
this early morning

and on the front
the water is burning -
burning

i used to go to work in the dark
before the time changed - affirming
and conforming

the radio man recites last night's results -
a new day has dawned
- it will be long and disconcerting

there is a fire in the sky above the pines -
and on the front
the water is burning

- burning.

r ~ 11/5/14

The curious paradox is that when I accept myself just as I am,
then I can change.*
Carl Rogers


my hands can be so prosaic
uninterrupted in the mechanism of gestures
mindless, blinded, tired
of polishing the edge of the world

your hands and their delicate shiver
are used to behaving
trying to learn how to grasp the meaning,
the contours of the void in daylight
or why haters hate
(was it your fault or theirs?)

you are an unfinished landscape
of breaking points and hopeless moans,
oases of quietness,  turning points and
electrical paths, buds of mystery
I know nothing about

still, there’s something  teasing
written in between
such is coherence:  a paradox
-two interlocking  unwittingly-
irrational at one level
imaginatively reasonable at another
-reality is framed by negotiation with a god of silence-
two singularities conversing,
filling the air with space  
: it is me⁢ is you
Like when you erase me perfectly
with a blink of an eye
tired or cynical
with yourself,
or when I crush you
like a manic avalanche in
midsummer day

-there is some madness in between-

after all
shame and shamelessness
cannot be understood
in binary codes
while humility and pride
are two faces of the same coin

it’s been written  since day one
this matching choreography of turmoil inside
or just the pursued birth pains of self
-switch, twist, push, turn,
run, hide, split,
break, slip, cut
repeat, repeat, repeat –
the vertigo of life
rhyming imaginary possibilities
new gestures,
new proportions of light
and darkness
in the power of my hands
in the clarity of your voice

we approximate the truth of our last breath
grow old in stories within stories within the story
we tell ourselves to survive the crack of dawn

and so it goes:
the hero decrypting sunset
deepens the story
looking for
some freedom
to be

and I cannot look at you
without
the sonorous light
bearing tenderness
within

I set you free
in my blood
without knowing
if you stay
for today