The moon obscured by twilight fog
   is like a sentinel,
   guarding the acrid smell
   of the veneer of doing well,
     when really, deep down
   I feel like hell.

The deepest corners of my heart conceal
   a darkness
     and a confusion
       more real than real.
   I feel like I myself want to steal
     my whole life's foundation
       and take it far away from me.

Like the moon obscured by the fog
   I want to be free in the rain
   to run again
   to feel the same
   as when I played that game
     of life
     and of love
   but the moon's obscured by a fog
     from above.

If only I could see that light
   reflected through the cloud.
I yearn to feel how bright
   that moon tonight
     calls silently,
   but is yet so loud.

The weights and forces balanced on my mind
   are like a shard of possible time,
   slicing like the punchiest rhyme,
   and frequently taking my breath away
     like a thing sublime.
It seems I cannot help but stop
   to pause,
     to think.
Whenever there's a drip of beauty,
   I drink,
     even in the slog of cloudy days
   I'm right on the brink.
     It's the kind of thing that you may communicate
   with a wink,
       but that would never be enough.
Not even the poet's last lines
   drafted with enchanted ink
     could capture this feeling.

I stare up at the moon,
   her bright eyes obscured
       by a fog.

Pabulusok na ang ginintuang hari
sa dulong kanluran.
rumuronda na ang mga paniki,
nakadapo na ang mga ibon.
tumitili ang mga kuliglig
kasabay ng walang patid na
sagutan ng mga palaka.
ang mga butiki naman ay
humahalik na sa lupa.
malamig na hangin
ang madaramang sumisipol sa pandinig
at pumupukol ng mumunting alikabok
upang ipaalam
ang malambing nitong dampi.
maya-maya lang ay sisibol na
ang nagkikintabang kurap
ng mga mumunting kulisap
sa kalangitan
upang ito'y ilawan hanggang umaga.

twilight in delight
move with sun or stay with moon -
blushed sky painting red

Who is this girl that twirls around at twilight
under the crescent moonlight and the fading sun?

With tears running down her face,
she holds an angelic smile upon her face.

What does she see?
What does she hear? and
What does she feel?

Black feathers begin to fall,
circling around the ruffles of her black dress,
landing by her bare-feet.

Who is this girl
and why does she turn at this hour?
What has she gained? and what has she lost?
Only time will tell,

yet here I am feeling found
while being lost in her day-spring eyes.

you remind me of sunsets and hearths
that stretch on the line
where empyrean touches the earth.

the golden strokes with hints of red hues
blended with purples, crimsons, and daisies
reflect itself from the rhythmic
glowing collision of ocean waves
like sepia photographs.

as the last bright rays
fade into the night,
it rests a promise before it lifts
the blanket of velvet twilight.

from the horizon
you see the heaven articulating its thoughts,
“paradise is not where the sky meets the ocean,
it lies on your presence,”

i stay lost in you for a little longer.

Late afternoon, tween twilight but before the dusk
in time for afternoon prayers, ******* followed by
the evening service, The Name reached out unto me
to touch my face, wake me from a lifelong slowing slumber.

My man! My good man, I’ve been numbering those days,
you will have no disagreement that you’re quite the closer,
close by, the chapter finale of our story, your living, a well
thumbed novella, enjoyed by many, and a favorite o’mine.

Do not restless rustle, no busing bustle, the Set Table^ cleared,
tabulations done, the sums and dividend distributed, in sync,
your words well distributed, remainders to be dearly shared, saved,
showings of great love, valleys of feeling, these your humble attire.

Look how easy the (our) words come, the fluids of a man for which
we have been long patient be awaiting, the company all in readiness,
for confession and days of permanent new creation, fast beginnings,
think on it, to be called child once more, how glorious this unknown!

Dimensions recorded, measurements tailor-taken, silk tuxedo deep bleu, luxe, a hint of violet, here-presented, patent, the leather for blue suede winged dancing shoes no airport dare ask you remove, before they beg you, say, save grace, just once, pronounce The Name, the one of Seventy!

To walk, talk, rhyme and theorize, to forget and memorize, always refreshing, knowing nothing lasts, except things that last forever, or last never, poems and decisions needing completion, choices, reordering songs loved best, repleting all sorrowed pains, uplifting prayers, hallelujah hymns, last rites...

You, a world to us, a microcosm of a triathlon life, juggling the many, last of a lineage who could^^ pray, making rain, reading poetry to angels, giving comforting absolution for making storms, plagues, tidal waves, volcanoes, concentration camps, death marches, stillborn children, incurable sadness.

Quick when the curtain calls, listen close for the cue, toe the mark,
take position, hands upward joined, eyes down, ahead are fearless words,
a soliloquy lasting hundreds of years, balances aligned, only now you  needed, to make mercy allocations, putting paid next to all my periods, all in place, properly positioned, now comes an  evening song.

then to commence the writing of only love poetry forevermore.


5:00pm
Sabbath May 23
5780