You sit drinking your cheap liquor,
and flat soda.
You wax your philosophical views
to anyone who listens.
"The problem," You say,
"is that no one cares."
Your slurring thoughts are truly
a voice of a generation.

"Write", she says.

"I have nothing to say", I answer.

But, of course, it is a lie.  I have plenty to say.
It is a matter of staying hidden.  

Sometimes, I want to be invisible.  

"Don't look at me", I say, "Just see me."

*I am the invisible substance of subconscious,
and I want nothing more than to be found.

I can see trees
Unfold with stubborn insistence around the empty field
Where breezes pool in lively airs that dance from sky to ground,
Only to plod into the branches that close them to the stars.  

Lost in the pathways leading nowhere,
The wind forgets from where it came
As branches ****** away its vitality
Dissipated into the quiet weeping of the leaves.

But skimming along the canopy ceiling
Above my head: winds rustle trees,
Enveloping me in the mocking absence
Of the quiet freedom of the open air.

Now wind gently greets me at the edge
Where trees sculpt the field’s subtle form
Which gives the openness its place
And gives pause to a restless mind.  

And now I realize the forest’s trees
Which unfold in their ordered grace,
Allow the freedom of the open to possess
The meaning that I longed to seek.

The wanderer follows
No hallowed path
Set forth for her
By the sagacious few.
Nor does she live
To build her past
For far off futures
Whose seeds are sewn.

No familiar face
Has she ever seen
That greets her where
She decides to sleep
But travels with
The wind in her hair:
The only companion
She chooses to keep.

All empires return
To dust that birthed
Them from the nothingness
Of barren ground,
And push the ambitious
To build them tall
For fleeting futures
On foundations unsound.

Such men still laugh
At one like her
Who possesses nothing
In their eyes,
And lives in chaos
Of shifting destiny
With no respect
For human lies.

But no future goal
Controls her fate
Nor worldly tethers
Bind her past
So she is free
To contemplate
Her relation to
The earth so vast.


She is the dust
from God’s fingers
that’s fallen on
Ungrateful land
And shows the blind
And sinful people
Their origin from
The present at hand.

They deride and mock
Or at best ignore her
And value what God
Did not confer
But she is more
than the earth and sky
And none can take
What belongs to her.

i will wade out
                        till my thighs are steeped in burning flowers
I will take the sun in my mouth
and leap into the ripe air
                                       Alive
                                                 with closed eyes
to dash against darkness
                                       in the sleeping curves of my body
Shall enter fingers of smooth mastery
with chasteness of sea-girls
                                            Will i complete the mystery
                                            of my flesh
I will rise
               After a thousand years
lipping
flowers
             And set my teeth in the silver of the moon

All in green went my love riding
on a great horse of gold
into the silver dawn.

four lean hounds crouched low and smiling
the merry deer ran before.

Fleeter be they than dappled dreams
the swift sweet deer
the red rare deer.

Horn at hip went my love riding
riding the echo down
into the silver dawn.

four lean hounds crouched low and smiling
the level meadows ran before.

Softer be they than slippered sleep
the lean lithe deer
the fleet flown deer.

Four fleet does at a gold valley
the famished arrows sang before.

Bow at belt went my love riding
riding the mountain down into the silver dawn.

four lean hounds crouched low and smiling
the sheer peaks ran before.

Paler be they than daunting death
the sleek slim deer
the tall tense deer.

Four tall stags at a green mountain
the lucky hunter sang before.

All in green went my love riding
on a great horse of gold
into the silver dawn.

four lean hounds crouched low and smiling
my heart fell dead before.