Ormond 2d

( Sonnet )

Sound softly hung, she spoke, gave birth to place;
And there, found him closed in, frozen, shivering.
Her dawn light hands gently warmed his face;
His winter room sweetly broke into the spring.

After darkness died he felt strange bonds again;
Birds chimed, flew by, and the walls fell away.
Locked in her arms the turning world grew open;
His eyes nestled in the light her joy had made

And with her temperance swelled his weary eyes;
This was the day of her birth, Venus by the seas
And lonely air was steeping, the ground set aside
His tabled world was now a feral garden green.

Dearest countenance, with only grace she lies,
With merest touch, turned all ceilings into sky.
.

Ormond 4d

.
Body of ocean, milk and sky,
We are tangled in the hope of night.
The lips of the milky way, creaming us,
Stains and is tart with a taste keening;
All is creation.  My meteors crash
Into your ruptured Earth.  I flame
Upon your must and moisted furrows
And my toes are locked, rooted in yours.

Body of ocean, milk and sky,
In the deserts of the day you are true
Oasis.  The curves and waft of your sands
Seethe and sodden my barren plains,
Are erasing all my wandering memories
Of an endless sky and now your eyes
Are the only stars I know, and your skin;
A sheet that holds the heavens shimmering.

Body of ocean, milk and sky,
Your breasts are the heaving of grasses
And wind, loft and laden in the rounded
Hills, a hoard of yeasty bread, bountiful,
Ripe and strange.  Your hair is an endless
Savannah, your valleys are gold and honeyed
With milk, seared, filled by my penetrating sun.
In passion we play; low on earth and deep in sky.
.

Ormond 7d

.
Child's summer crusades
How the wind loves the daises
Sun chasing windmills

.

Ormond Jul 15

.
Before music was a poem—
Writ in an empty black book
And then a guitar played me,
The world was rung in stars,
Simple and real as spun light
On a staff of gold in the dark.

And word becoming structure,
Branched out into leaving sky,
The notes of the minded heart
Opened in modulation of keys
And time was rooted in beats,
The song tapping in our dream.

After— music was a poem,
Old as a birth from the lamb
And memories calling forth,
From landed dreams awoke,
Everything before led me on,
This journey into bright morn.
.

Ormond Jul 12

.
Empty house creaking
Trees writhing in judgement winds
Her footsteps leaving

.

Ormond Jul 11

.
Deep in the cups of your eyes
I drink in the high shot,
Blood of sense sacramental,
Wine and veins piercing
The after loves of morning.

Lost in the reaches of your hair
I have found belonging,
Ambrosial of lark and meadows,
Like some primordial dawn,
Awakening the first lovers.

And our bodies, broke, chalk nude,
Shimmered in ghost of live moon,
Like the one white dove loosed,
Into the holy airs of flaming hope,
Above blue tranquil seas of peace.

The ocean slid with our rowings
And the air, so sweetly uncatched,
Moaned in moist heat of breeze,
Drunk in an ever last of new hunger,
Under all the heavens we plunged.
.

Ormond Jul 8

.
The sea is a landing,
The mountains, but ribs,
Merely brittle, sandy mounds,
That cradle and rock, my song,
The oceans, bath water foaming,
My body is all encompassed
In void, in elements of feather,
Light as the rays from the stars,
The Great Lakes are puddles,
And all bands of the ancient
Forest are wrapped in a ball,
The world is a playful bubble,
Only one note from the music
Of the spheres, a loosed bauble
Born of sparks, cosmic clouds,
Breaking in the nebulas of blistering
Iris, exploding in the joyous eyes
Of a waking child.  

                             Yet, there is only
Now, I am, locked in a dreamhouse,
By a vast sea, on old branches of tree,
And, I can only look, grow, daze into
Shut mystic heavens, and wonder.
Can I truly, only, live in dream?
My makeshift world is drying,
I am from sprinkled waters
Dropped like tears,
Graces that fell
From the sky.
.

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