each morning bird watching
is a silent meditation
I have pigeons sparrows seagulls
megpies in my gaze
their delight of falling
makes me smile
I watch them teaching their wings
for each day
picking up the debris of sleep
spinning around each other
they start cheerful conversations
about the taste of the air
steal crumbs of wonder
from each other
a woodpacker comes
from time to time
its red stain is fun
none of them travel to you
they get round and round
wayching out
their own flight

There has to be something to show the way,
In the fumbling flash of thoughts and just how,
As night draws us closer to each dawning day,
Where we plan for a future that grows out of now.

There has to be something to do or to say,
In a stumbling dash to prevent or allow,
The night that approaches to soothe a bright day,
Where the words resonate and the sound is just…
"wow..."

we are the stories between the armpit
and the hand
between the whisper and the sigh
forged by galaxies of wounds
in the fragility of light
of spaces crushed
by the acceleration of time
our irises boundless
sometimes

we are the stories that tell
our soles when to stop
our bones when to sing
that put sunflowers
in our haze
cranberries in our waitings
delight in our might
skyscrappers of thought in our deeds
promises in our hands full of mud
over caskets

we are the stories of love's failure
(aren't we asking too much from love?)
of decay of pretend of parasitic laughter
of the violence of bodies without minds
without singing in the hearts
stories of fists strife and toil,
the boredom of dawn
repetition of self-deception
circles not round
triangles full of hurt
of the rigidity of one plus one
equals two
the rest is wonder

so many stories exchanging nouns, verbs
attributes just to capture
what is forever escaping alluding flowing
naturally undisturbed in the exchange of
vowels
like dark matter that escapes iself
only in dreams

was it the awe of vowels that invented the world?

incessantly on the edge
of chaos of blindness of knowing
of loss of void of grief & joy
of floating to the unknown
or pausing into certainty
hard working minds and eager souls
errect citadels of meaning
in dialogue sometimes
or as oppressive as
the denial of slippery roads
of sad guitars or
maddening violins

our shadows sit closely next to us
precisely when
we're stepping into the light

a shy sunrise over the hills
the quietness of frozen earth
dead leaves blessed with crystal
delicate magic
pine trees, white fir trees,
like untouchable heights
of my garden
the cherry tree dreaming
of cherries and the birds
in the sky
and my heart cracked opened
by the crisp wonder
of a winter spirit

rainy days like these
I fill them up with
tenderness,
visions of the unknown
like lymphatic vessels
roaming the world
just to keep myself
from not knowing
that even the gods are weeping
or hidding their cries
in unwritten stories
when the pain is so
so so so so so
alive

what a blessing
what a chance
what an accident
a wonder:
the horizon itself is in
transition
to something other
than the blue speed
of the earth

Don't be a local.
Don't deny yourself the wonder.
Don't forego the sunlight,
the movement of the sky
the dance of the water

Don't be a local.
Don't focus on timetables.
Don't get lost in ferry dramas.
Lift your head into the wind
and take in the glacial.

When I am with you
I wanna lose my center
he would say to you gently
without words

he would translate you into his own language
of groove, longing, shouting, fluid desires
for the sake of  finding his own tracks
his eager mutable depths

he is looking for harbours
for his solitude turned into offerings
for devotion
for the secret wisdom that fills the cracks of night
he doesn't deny the intensity
of the sweet conversations between the hearing
and the touch
he hides his violence in sealed wells,
in clear visions, in the decimals of knowledge

he was a lonely boy
full of wonder

If otherwise we were, we might,
if otherwise we were, we might

answer boldly all the common conundrums
whying one way and ifing another,
howing all things,

indoing each as must be done, otherwise,
undoing first cause ifing any reason
authorizes our use of may, as well
we may, if we can make believe.