I'm a mountain man
Far from my range
Surrounded by seemingly endless
Flat plains of sugar sand beaches
Here I am alone
So out of place
While all the waves keep crashing
Reminding me of a Blue Ridge song
Calling my soul farther north
To a place where my hearts match
Is beating along
To the melody
Of high winds
And granite peaks
So I sit knowingly
Appraising the horizon
As I miss my home
In Tennessee Rising

I lay upon the tranquility
beneath the stars
Wondering at the wonder
that made us who we are
The water's are black
but warm around me
I float like the ripples
of the surrounding sea .
There is a silence
that I long to know well
Somehow it's alluded me
All I can say is oh well
Eventually I wash up
onto the shore
I crawl up
like my ancestors before
I sit on the dunes
the sands of my time
That once were great moutains
made out of granite and lime
But before all of this was
Before even the wetness of sea
Even before there were
the great mountains that be
Farther back than
than any memories
I wonder where is the point
from where did I depart
to make my journey's home
to find a new start

made-up quotes about the metaphorical sense of
"moving mountains"
are incendiary to my sweet thoughts;
they anger me into an oblivion
in which these mountains are barriers;
in which they define us.

if I could literally move mountains
I’d do it in a moment’s time;
tearing down all 6,683 ft of their towering elevation;
silencing their spite and
forcing them far, far away;
soothing our tall tensions to ease.

we dwell in opposite margins
of a page that has so much yet to be written;
when I run to you,
I do so in slow motion and one step out of time
as I constantly trip over the alpine ground
that we mistake for a reason why
this isn’t right.  

I cannot literally move mountains,
but if I could,
I would,
and the dissonance
between my heart and yours
would exist no longer.

let’s frighten these mountains into an oblivion
in which we can see just over them
and I’ll touch their peaks to find your hands holding mine;
guiding each other through our separate lives
melded
by love.

I imagine us
In places we have
Never seen
Surrounded by
Mountains and trees
And long lost love
That you waited to give me

But I'll take it
Because here we are
In a home
With black cups of coffee
And sunsets
In our soul

Our days are not over
Our days are not numbered
Our days are not measured
By a setting sun

I have love I need you to have
And to keep
And I want you to know
That this love climbs mountains
For you

That day we came
and having come
lapped at by perfumed light
at once separated.
We bathed in the pool
the water like crystal
in the sunset
our limbs like glass.

On the bank
in the hot conjoined air
we made love again
our sweat
like silver in the moonlight.

the water's suppurating flow
drew our limbs
like flotsam in the reeds
grappling glistering lilies
as we floated in slow, *******
currents.

along the bank, the Camphor
shades the forest flowers
through the long-leaved grass
the python slinks

We leave for home
darkened by the sun..........
tongues digging into melons,
pomegranates laid out
neatly for dessert


******* out the Rambutan-
once the hairy skin is peeled-
fiery, red
the soft core sweeter than coitus-
and stays longer in our thoughts.
is this where the dreams are,
or where the dreaming begins,
between the first caress
and the final gasp of satisfaction?
Where the threshing limbs
devour the sun-shredded wheat
and the panting ribbons of air
swallow the final sigh-
the sleek river flowing
seaward, ocean marshalling
the land,
coral languishing in green pools
of broken light.

Here, within this infused beauty,
******* has power
beyond the weather-bound senses
of our northern homes,
encased in dull precipitation
sunshine a blunted knife

beyond the ***-shaped mountains
high above the trees
like a tear emerging from the sky
drops the waterfall
its descent
languid, its fall sharp and effortless;
tinged with azure, carefully sprinkled flakes
it spreads out like a clear, chiming puddle.
There we spread ourselves
naked in the sunlight
the sea's rumbling noise
distant and fumbling-

spreading its curling claws
into the slyly forming sunset
in reiterated rhythms
like beating hearts
like lungs-
the carefully manufactured beats
blending.

i find it hard now to make excuses for why i haven't let you go.
mere words are tripwires.
(how can i call you a piece of my past when you are still so very present?).
i am no longer as eloquent as i used to be.

i find it hard now to make excuses for why i still stand at your door.
it has been four months, and just as soon, twelve.
(each morning i wake with hopes that your grip will have loosened).
i am no longer as strong as i used to be.

but perhaps it does take a strange type of strength to be so hopeful,
to think that someday,
even after all this,
you might see in me even a fraction of what i see in you.

truthfully, that is all i ever wanted.

but often, the things we want require change we cannot bring.

i have spent so long trying to make my valleys into mountains,
but sometimes the earth does not want to be moved.

//

i have given up on excuses;
i will drag you along and wait.
someday i will tire of holding your hand so tightly.

(a.m.)

it's not the bustling city
with its massive modernity
and ever present life.
it's not the mountains
with their wild, untamed nature
and their way of making towns look small.
but something stands to be said
for the way the highways curve
into a mall complex
designed to look pleasing,
And for the way millions of cars
and parents and children
manage to fit together like a puzzle
so one can drop her youngest off
run errands with her eldest
and be home in time for her favorite evening programs.

Little fingers, little toes
It's such a joy to watch you grow
Big bright eyes that greet the day
A crinkled nose with a smile that shines my way
Messy faces at supper time
Couches like mountains that you just have to climb
The wonders of this world seen through your eyes
Such a truly beautiful prize
Child of my child
You have me so beguiled