What are these bodies, these
limbs, giving up their sap
and heat? Who decides
who dies, who lives?

What is cut down is
cut down, and
bereft children
grow in their place.

Upside down you walk the clouds
And you are unaware
You touch your feet on moonbeans
They are a golden stair

You breathe under the ocean
Peruse the coral reefs
Dance with the yellow fishes
Tell them your beliefs

The Earth is actually the sky
Cars are birds that fly on by
You query raindrops - they don't lie
You pet doves - they're never shy
And the rainbows never die
You never stop to question why

You see angels. You hear ions.
You smell blue. You touch the eons.
The beggers rule. The bankers peons.
Are these things we can agree on?

Your hair's a cloud. Your skin's a glove.
The sun is flat. The Earth's above.

Let's just face it...

You're in LOVE!


SoulSurvivor
(C) 7/31/2016

Tonight the fog settles
on the water reflecting

a dark mood, and the moon
is genuflecting to the blues

resting one knee on the cold
silent sea taking off his hat

as if to say *May I rise now
and take my leave and leave

you be, for tomorrow will
surely be a brighter day?

Love is like the rose
Beautiful, lush, fragrant
Yet forestalls it
Of being plucked
From the thorns
Of our own creation

gulls cawed, so loud their calls
echoed off the cliffs behind us, a ghost flock answering,
though not shrill enough to rouse us

they flew crisscross patterns
and dove into the surf, but not one landed
on the carrion strewn across the sands

not like the vultures of my youth,
ravenous black hawks that began their devouring
at the first scent of death, or a moment before

no, these creatures merely called
to one another, a curious conversing
about the carnage below

perhaps their strange song
our dirge, as they swooped to and fro, wings
slicing currents carrying our souls

Omaha Beach, June 6, 1944