In the dark of the whispering nave
as rosy incense blesses the scene,
old hymns once sung in chanted waves
still sail through hearts of choirs unseen;
Dimly lit by a sanctuary lamp red,
the altar lies in stony repose:
a throne for him who for all bled
and wished us love by the Holy Ghost.
Streaming, rippling ocean hues
with light washed bluer than Jonah’s whale
flow from stained glass richly imbued
by a Jewish hand with swirling detail:
This sturdy house is a bobbing ark
floating through our tempestuous time,
marked by a seagull who soared and embarked
on making his art for all sublime:
to fulfill the promise of rainbows above
for all those who seek the light of love

I have tasted sweet waters
with crystalline honey and sugared petals.
I have tasted sour milk that curdles on my tongue,
that leaves me coughing.
I had wandered through the moors of purgatory
with eyes like an empty vase.
Once I found Arcadia,
Like Orpheus, I looked back.
Because how could I leave it all behind?

In my head I've lost it.
In my head I'm standing on your front lawn
My bare feet on the damp grass
In the early morning.

The mist fills my tongue
Sprinklers pour over me
I shiver and think of all this water

I feel the weak warmth
Of a pale colorless sunrise.

You walk out the front door
In your suit and tie, briefcase in hand
You don't even look at me. The apparition
You kiss her goodbye, you get in your car and drive away

I stand with my dress all wet
Soaked to the bone
Praying for the sun to come sooner

This water pins me,
It weighs me down.

Where do I pour this love?

It haunts me when I lay in bed,
begging to be whispered and held;
Sweet nothings? No— everythings instead

“Give me to him,
as he wants it,
needs it,
craves
it”

Who? Where? I reply,
before turning to my side.
I pour inward, and keep it aside.

Years go by,
                     drop by drop.
This will do, I decide.
                              drop by drop.
I’m no longer dried.
                                  drop by drop.
Overflowing; that’s no surprise.
                                           drop by drop.

Where else do I pour this love?

your soul is dark,
and sullied black
by life.

it must ache
to be so              hollow.

to be so empty.
without substance,
without light.

a pit of mystery,
buried inside of you.
water so murky
a swimmer should not risk,

but boy,
i am drowning.

If I could be fire,
I would be the kind
That burns itself

If I could be water,
I would be the kind
That drowns itself

If I could be light,
I would be the kind
That blinds itself

Alas! I'm only human
But I'm the kind
That tries to find
Good in every step

Fog and mist rising,
And then disappearing behind the peaks.
Fog and mist rising
From the lake as if
The water itself is burning beneath its lurky surface.
Fog and mist rising and dissolving into the meadows,
Painting the grassland in grey and white.
Fog and mist rising and nestling in the deodars,
Reflecting the icy surface of the water in its vapour.
Fog and mist rises higher and higher than the mountain peaks as if teasing the ***** of the hill.
Fog and mist rising and tainting the hillside until nothing is visible,
Not even the roads in haunted small towns.
Fog and mist rising from nowhere and covering the hills
In blue and grey and white.
Fog and mist rising like an old curse after the rainfall dances.
Fog and mist rising and then disappearing
behind the peaks,
Where there is only the open sky.