time was talking to me in a bubble of dreams
asked me if i was ready for a new experience
since time doesn't speak to you normally, i stuttered:
ye-yes, i'm ready, bu-but where will it take me?

well, young man, time said, it will take you to
a country that has never been discovered
this country is made of islands, thousands of them
nobody lives there, except orange birds and fish

but forget all the islands, they are lifeless, excluding one:
home to a man who is called golem the violinist
he consists of letters and is mute, he can not speak a word
how will i talk to golem then? i asked inquisitively

time didn't answer my question; it just smiled gently
i blinked and afterwards, i arrived on the island
swarms of orange birds were roaming the air
silver waves were surging against my naked feet

was i really dreaming? i pinched myself and it hurt
i was not dreaming because i could feel the pain
suddenly, i could hear a violin, slowly played
i turned around and saw golem, his eyes closed

golem was huge, athletic and coated in tattoos
the entire body was covered with the alphabet
golem's head was nodding to the melody of the music
puzzled, i asked him which song he was performing

he didn't answer; i had forgotten that he was mute
i asked again, he put the violin aside, devoted mien
golem raised his index finger and placed it on a letter
it was an "s", curiously, i followed his finger, as he continued

i finally read the words "sunshine adagio in d minor"
but at this stage of my life, i was just listening, passively
today, i depend on music to write, on orchestral sounds
"sunshine adagio in d minor" was played by the golem

he presented me the grace and strength of the violin
i could never visit this island again; never in my life
golem enchanted me so heavily, my memory is erased
i can't remember the way to his island anymore

it is not on any map, nowhere, but i kept something:
golem introduced me to breathtaking music, heaven yeah!
and the violin has been inspiring me since then
sunshine, adagio in d minor: i do admire you, song

i thank you golem for your gift and for your time
maybe you'll read this one day and tell me the way back
back to your island, back to the birthplace of muse
i love you brother, you are like kin, all yours, mikey

~for Honey~

upon arrival in May, 2020, at the sheltering island:

sparser, leaner, the overage of summer fullness lacking,
some of the presumptuous early blooms silly attempting
with no success, the deceiving of new arrivals, while the many
naked branches, leaf-less, trees, struggling be fully realized, needy
to join, volunteer, with the troops of advancing green recruits

this no poem, just descriptive, a viewpoint, my eyes awaken
to calm waterways, white boat dots trawling, looking
for new births, bounties of raw refreshment, sailing to an audience
of landed, gentrified emerald grasses, their chorale singing ‘thirsty!’

of me they ask, who be you, we’ve not seen nary a human trod
our land and seascape for months many, we have no recollection,
no issuing, of an invitation to any two legged slightly-familiar interlopers, reply simple, essence of essential, I’m being, being here!

your shores shore me in ways undefinable, that my
travels and travails don’t dare accompany or defy,
looking for old friends, natural ones, some likely passed,  all
whilst I sing Over the Rainbow, wishing wishes wonderful

already becoming truth, eyes daren’t deceive, my somewhere
here, where a winter’s rainbow made its landing, dreams truthful revealed, richly greeted, our presence yet welcomed, by sea salted
odiferous air, lapidaries of sapphiric waves, animals of the Kingdom

the poetry nook members, askance asking, why, what so long took,
we, your audience, waiting patiently for a coming, to pen our
woods and tales, long, short and tall, prophecies of storms,
lighting crashes, of a stilling peacefulness, heaven-bequeathed

the Adirondack thrones, four kings, wearied worn, beyond gray,
show their weathering rings pride of ‘another year, we’ve survived,’
saying now, we’ll speak to the world, through you-man-poet,
our minions too, deer, wolves, rabbits, starfish, osprey, sea trout, piping plover, all winter survivors, will enjoin your verses

much to tell, newly created, new spells, to trance your eyes,
you seeing only our surfaces, guessing at our depths, our inherency,
looking for recovered keys to unlock your own hardy boyish mysteries, but ours, are perpetual unsolvable which is why,
you humans, ne’er fail to return

your soft footfalls, children’s shrieks, jewels to adorn us,
our nature, needs adoration and adulation, our tree limbs
for swinging on lumber-cut swings, flying towards our blued skies, requires humans to summer-slum, breaching the winters remaining slumbering yet few ends to join you when you at last first chant,

                               that, that’s where
                               you will find me, 
                               thinking,
                               think to myself,
                                                         ­ oh, what a wonderful world!

Seer of joy but sayer of sorrow,
From numinous lips, the heart burns down,
The convergence of pulse in ash wireframe
Is love, in keeping but not in heaven igniting.

Excise my heart and let it keep as an island
That only beats when the waves come across,
And all the ancient world speaks in me
With light of burning lips and crushed hearts.

When someone dies, the world becomes this
Unreplicated moment of beauty, an essence
Unconfined and filled with no other self
But selves complete, though all heaven may blaze alone.

Just like Greenland, it has no grass on its surface,
It is ever so slightly submerged under a paper-thick layer of water
An opaque and quiet white sea surrounds the place,
The most sublime island, sharing this title with an identical twin sister

The center of the island reminds me of a black monochromatic vinyl
But has never been spinning,
Looking at her, I hear the song “you’re the first, the last, my everything”
Spiraling in my head, while the environment is otherwise tranquil.

There, everything becomes dark for a fraction of a second
It happens several times but is seldom noticed
A lid comes and goes, and does forever proceed
Leaving inevitably behind it a clean and moist ground

Unfortunately, no one can truly live there
I wish the reflection of my image would settle on this magical land
Carried by the light of a wonderful day
For a second or longer, I don’t dare to fantasize
Because I know that I will eventually realize
That this picture I see, actually floats above this continent
While somewhere in the background its inverted copy
Sends a message to a distant master observatory
That I hope will make someone happy,
Happy to be finally seeing me.