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 Jan 2020 Paul C
A
Halifax
 Jan 2020 Paul C
A
In every interaction
a bit of sadness
knowing how far away
our transactions are made
Blush
eyeliner
and lipstick
fade
Sunsets on a city scape
I'd run there barefoot
if you'd only
meet me there halfway

Relax, relax, Halifax
It's only just a crush
But I keep your playlist on repeat
as days turn into dust
In the next life
we'll be neighbors
and meet when we're sixteen
I'll knock on your door
to borrow sugar
if you know what I mean
But for now
I die for your name upon my screen
In this existence
even at a distance
it feels so good to be seen
January 25, 2020
 Jan 2020 Paul C
CIN
Cloudy
 Jan 2020 Paul C
CIN
Why cry
On a day when its not dry
Even if after its cloudy
You can still be happy
The rainbow may be behind the clouds
And you may not be in the crowds
But theres beauty
In the cloudy
In the mango tree
a pair of crows
have made a new home.

While up on the roof
watering the plants
I see the heavenly sight
how they raise their beak
to swallow the trickles
before the heat ***** away
and having this little favor
they're back in usual mood
cawing at their hoarsest
stay away, stay away
come no way near nest

which I do my best to do
stealing a look when they're away
at the three blue nuggets
happy in the thought of
little red hungry mouths

broken
the mangoes would grow
around an empty home.
 May 2017 Paul C
spysgrandson
with moonlight, he travels mostly
at night, past snoring hikers and embers
of fires that cooked their food, kept darkness
at bay, and heard what they had to say

if the coals could only speak, perhaps
he would find the right circle of stones,
a black heap of carbon that once glowed
red and gold, and her tale would be told

at least he would know the last words
she spoke in this wilderness--whether she
chose to vanish into the deep wood, fodder
for the scavengers

or was the prey of evil men,
who lurk at every turn--in bustling city
and quiet forest as well--vipers who strike
without warning, without curse or cause

when the moon's light wanes, he moves yet
in darkness, feeling his way, a nocturnal detective,
hoping to find what the others have given up
for lost and registered among the dead:

sign or scent of her--black coals or white bones,
a piece of tattered clothing, the canvas backpack
with her name, the hiking boots he laced for her
which left tracks he forever yearns to find...
"Inspired" by the brutal ****** of a couple on the Appalachian Trail in the mid '80s. In this case, the forlorn searcher has lost a lover, daughter or someone he wanders in the darkness to find.
 Sep 2016 Paul C
vircapio gale
on the way
to return sociology
to the library
i couldn't read the parking signs
so ended blocks away
at a salvation army

the kind with no books for sale
but an elevator shaft
running up, down
behind a drum-set altar
and a stage i didn't buy.

half-expecting 'the war room' ads
posted here as well
i let a stranger lead me to my muse
saying none would mind

Chuck asked me if i 'needed to pray this morning'
before unlocking -
i said, 'every day'  but thought
  not in his way
- i'm just begging him to play.

i read a psalm and kneel to test hypocrisy.
lotus palms connote release from suffering
wellness for all beings

and then  
i am here now
at the keyboard again
playing music i will never forget
even when my chainsaw body stiffens  creaks
the keys a saving home still  though shy
they hammer heart strings
broken, born -again again again.

praeludium, goldberg, well-tempered
minuets conjure Bach
in his stone church
and i cry for lost souls
my own lostness found
though convinced there is no static single 'self'
no 'soul'-rewarded other-life to justify our own
no 'god'- or science-demolished mystery
no metaphysic causa sui to separate
contempus mundi from the mundi...
no tidy verbal 'beyond beyond'
but that of Thales  Sappho  Gautama  
Laotse  Yeshua
Nagarjuna  Shankara
Duns Scotus  Hume  
Blake  Whitman  Darwin
Nietzsche  Du Bois
Tolkien  Stein  Merleau-Ponty  Sagan  Jong

but i will say we've sung the music of the spheres
in host-guest handshakes
stranger  xenophilic tunes
my earthling family hums my heart anew
as i begin  again
to sing my being into fingertips

skyward breath to lid-closed harmonies of hell redeemed
in Peter's vacuuming
request for 'Dixieland'
and Stacy's parting thanks
for 'we three kings'
Ruth's morning-making compliments and invitation back
my wish to share with them the love i feel
- from them, Gaskell's book
from deep within where no words win
authentic ownmost ocean depth of
less contingent love
historically embracing love
of errancy and freedom in our different loves
an atheist in love with vacuums
saucha and the music of human kindness
receiving gifts in giving thanks








.
10.26.15
saucha is a sanskrit, yogic term for purity/cleanliness

'contemptus mundi' is a medieval concept meaning 'contempt for the world' integral to religious escapism and ecological dominionism

chapel-soup-kitchen-center

he said i had 40 minutes
before the cleaning begins

my mother used to use the vacuum to put me to sleep

the puritanical element, cultural currency/status symbol of driving a recycled prius (totaled and rebuilt); ecology as the new global "religion" the cons of which are hard for me to digest, let alone admit, being an environmentalist, and of an ecological mindset

the first ad i saw for "the war room" was on another church's double-door
 Sep 2016 Paul C
Seán Mac Falls
( Sonnet )*

Poet to my eyes, you are the sight of whitecaps
On the sea water, or the sudden turn of a bird
In flight and as the wave I roll and break,
With drowning wings that lift toward you, my sky.

Mistress to my soul, I am the nave of your holy
Cathedral.  My head is but an occluded riff,
De-noting songs you make in aisling airs of light
Polyphony, my star over-sings the windy globe,

She swallows heaven, like swallows blacken the dusk.
Shearwater bird, strip my surface with your cutting
Wings.  My waves peak to reach you starling girl.

The sloughing chill of winter dies quick in sighs
Waft asunder my little Indian summer, wake me
From sleep and I shall dream but once for your kiss.
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