We met
        On the wooden boards
Of the music
        Hall, in the fire
Glow of lights
        Dimmed and aflame.
A match was set,
        She was young
My eyes grew
        Wildly kissing her
And we lived
        Long in soft days
Held by the sea
        On Shanganagh
Cliffs, feral
        And green as Ireland
And for one
        Moment our eyes
Shut, caved in
        A day.  Now wood
Below, holds us
        In the casket
Of pine memory,
        Wrap of vines
Sharp wine of days
        Splendour
And in mournful
        Breeze, to these
We did surrender
        At a tomb
And silent grey birds
        Stood muttering
Where we both
        Are cold, grieving
Alone as we are
        Placing flowers.

.
Her eyes,
Sunken, blue
With edges of ruddy green,
Of olive, kelp, fatigue,
A certain muddy camouflage,
Bright with purpose,
Ambition and fierce urgency,
Set their twin star sights
On me and I learned a new
Word that day—
Surrender.

I fell into formation,
Saluting her stars in the fullest light
Of the falling day.
I learned how to survive
Under such searing heat
And became intimate
With sneak attacks,
Friendly fire, sudden blitzkrieg
And the nuclear winter,
The dark sheet,
Of sorrows unveiling.

.
I feel the shrug of the passing winds,
That gather beyond my solemn place,
Where indifferent birds fly to and from,
With only lost dreams, real as her face.

.
In house made warm letters run,
Bright poems let, in winter sun—
The dreams of day a lively school,
As songbirds gleam at vernal pools,
Apparitions of youth— fly in and go,
A love blew held in wings, undertow,
Little things now steeping with peace,
Cloudy thoughts set aflame, released,
A lost woman revisioned— unknown,
Is conjured, screening real as a poem.

.
Shelter my eyes, with lighted skin,
Touch me with printed flame, rapt
In songs of joy, for I am unarmed,

Lift me to the spiral keeps of soul,
Spires thrusting in hearts firmament,
Set free in curled locks of your hair,

Let us be new as babes are nestled,
Long in the pines of the bristlecones,
Ageless and evergreen in cloudy bed,

Close the lids of night in sensate blue,
In eyes piercing painted skies of dark,
See my shroud cast out with the dawn.

…
Some birds are blue
Carry the sky
Earthwards

Ground birds nest
In bushes
Bursting like sun

Water birds
Swim to what is there
Always reaching

An eagle is like wind
Never chasing
Simply lofted

Crows are busy
So like tribulations
Spots of wind

A swan knows
Water will carry
As water in cloud

Some birds are dressed
Forthright on earth
The wren, the robin or quail

Each bird is dream
Miracles for us to see
Feathers fall from heaven

.
Silent are days,
Loud as the sun,
Soothing is night,
On threshold of dream,
Winsome as water mists
Raining from futures past,
Tasteless are delicacies,
Whipped up for myself,
Hard are the noises of birds
As they carol, carrying on,
Cold is the shade of trees,
As they do grow and leave,
In my house, so final, open,
Locked from all joys of day,
Rooms engulf as they hush
My crushed, unfelt body
That aches for another
And reaching smothers,
For books are as bricks,
From a ruined temple
Such knowledge—
Doled out in whisper,
Writings to decipher,
On sealed stones,
In my tomb.

.
Happy Christmas!
My love is a long isthmus,
Separated by fleshy mounds,
On its way to your jaunty seas,
My jingles, tingle, jug your jiggles,
My candy cane wants lips *******,
Please, little red dressed helper,
Santa needs your jumpers
Teared off and flung,
Into a sleigh ride
Of slides an fun.

You've asked me how can I see a future when love, in all
Its numinous beauty, is waning?
I reply, the immortal stars still shine above the veil of clouds.
You say, why are the salmon swimming to their pools of origin
Only to die as they spawn?  Only to die?
I tell you their love is unconditional, like mine.
You ask me did the giant sequoia know it was shelter for the burning grasses
When they walked from the seas?  I reply yes they knew.
You question me about the lofty snow cranes that fly over the Himalayas
And I reply by describing
How the priestly flocks, chanting on their mission, honk—
Announcing the mantle steps to the heavens.
You inquire about the elephantine manatees gracing the shallow banks
And wonder if the sea mermaids remember their lives beyond the latitudes
Of capricorn and cancer?
Or you’ve discovered in the wind a new reasoning as to why
The talons of the paired eagles lock in midair as they court?
You want to understand the nimbus garden, ocean slate, of lake Titicaca
Where resides the Andean sea horse gliding above the clouds?
The whales that circle dance in unison collecting krill?
The noetic display of the birds of paradise, the songs of nameless creatures
Playing in the wilderness like a forgotten melody only lovers lips remember?

I want to tell you that true love knows this, that life in its
Prismatic shimmer is all the myriad colours of infinite existence wrapped
In time to the sublime structure of white and bones.  I must tell you
That the flower is mighty in its opening, the humming bird is a sorcerer
Who needles ambrosia with vortex wings weaving his way to the Gods.

But I am nothing beside your disbelief which has arrived, before
I can even imagine the sweet awakening, like doom, my shell is the iridescent
Hollow of the one eyed Abalone, discarded in the deep fathoms
Of the ocean pressures.

I swim the tides as you do, investigating
The endless tendril seas,
And in my chest, during the night, I woke up empty,
The only thing treasured, a golden face
Trapped inside my dreams.

                                                        ­­­          
                                                             ­­                      *— after Neruda

( Sonnet )*

I look for Leo, his tawny dress,
His noble pride.  I see him ever,
In silent days his warmth his stride.  
Our friendship moved, grew a lease
With eyes sleepy, tempered, so wise,
Always serene.  How his waif voice
Would purrmurr, did chide and lift
Me from my human daze, my king
This spring is full of remembrances
And mornings that linger with mute
Vibrations and greetings.  How, now
I fear the carpets pressed unmoving
And times caress unsoothing.  I look
For you, with loving pause, and I cry.

Crystal sparkles—
From within, with ores,
Mineral, quartz, precious
Commonalities from earths
Core.  Wind has attempted
To make shy marks— falling
Sorrowfully short and water
Has edged and smoothed
By centuries too of trying.
This then was their show,
A kind of immortal love,
Everlasting by its trials,
As even the sun knows,
For a ley line, etched so fey,
Runs each wild orbs circumference,
Separates moss from clean stone,
Tracing the path of a star.

It's like trying with nothing there,
Hoping for connection, without
Knowing that you and I are lost,
Separate, etched in marbled face
Of stone, you never saw me real,
Nor I you, it was only happenstance,
The dead do not know they are dead,
As they careen in deserts bleeding,
Round living hearts, I was always
More than half divined, unliving,
It is not my fault you are blind,
Take what nothing's I once offer
In this spiny desert of Saguaro
And running sands of no relief,
Cast your visions skywards,
As mirages are miraculous,
Pray under blasted moon
And weep with me.