Mason Aug 2017
relax the sun is good and see it
come in through the window but
there is another source hidden and
secret is the heat that rises
from your chest and enters mine
and breaks down the walls of
the city inside and heals
all the broken
Mason Mar 2017
yesterday with you in
March, the cherry
blossoms - please
don't miss the little
flowers in your
search for a more
giving thing because
sweet darling love,
there is none. only
the children know
this, but I think
we are all children
after the rain.
Mason Dec 2016
Green eyes.
Green, yellowish in
the center.
Sunflowers in
the center, and
white skin and
freckles and
everything else is
red

Old myths dying under
the new sun
rising, spilling over
grassy fields dotted
with poppies

The day is unspoiled.
Mary
Mason Nov 2016
One fleeting glance
(I, in the dirt
and you, levitating)
And there, for a moment,
I basked!

In your ceaseless blaze.
Your "Light of Love,"
(as the idiots
have termed it)

Just a passing look
(in November, glossed-over)
is enough, even to say
"You are undeserving"
which is true.

So another man bathes
in your celestial beam
(which is the dawn and the twilight
and the hot, red, glow of volcanic burst
before the ash
comes down)

And he twirls and sings
and dances with joy:
"Oh, the Light of Love!
the Light of Love!
The neverending
Light of Love!"
Mason Nov 2016
The blooming of the Western
Azalea is
emergence into womanhood!
The inevitable burst of  
color from bud, that
once released-
cannot endure the contrast,
cannot linger in the
putrid air
between us- a film
covers her pink blush.
Everything returns
to a uniform grey.
Mason Sep 2016
It is late September
which means
Summer is dead or dying.
And this confirms the rule-
(there is no god- and always
a final descent).
But living is to thirst
for an exception.
This is Love's promise:
that its brilliance will shield it
from its fate.
It is the same promise
that Summer made.
Mason Aug 2016
It is not enough
to have known her.
(She was near the ocean).
It is not enough to hold
in the mind each pattern
on each petal
(a Summer flower).
To love is to believe
that Summer persists!
But this is not the order
of living-
She is momentary,
like all things.
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