It is time
To leave this house that is no home
To go abroad
To roam

To be a vagabond, hobo
Abandon hope
Not one stone on which to stand
No single tile above your head

To love without regard
Never have a care
To know not what you lack
No holding back

To reap nothing, only sow
Plant and move away
Eat some other’s heads of wheat
Though it be Sabbath day

To tell the truth, say the sooth
No matter what or why
To die and live and die again
A thousand deaths each day

To live each moment all alive
High dive

Sitting on the porch
Oppressed by atmosphere.
Perspiration’s touch
Movement costs too much

Find the shade
Drink in sips
Kool Aid
Stains her lips

Setting sun
Slips underneath
The shadow trees
Turns riotous green to gold

Darkness steals
In from the East
Teasing of relief

Bumbling bees
Deflower as they feast
Such power
In the ***** of the beast

Hershey melts my mouth
Dogs lie content
Having licked the plates

Sugar high mixes with my wine
How can I write
When I cannot think?

You wash dishes
Tidy up the room
I sit here decadent
My eyes smell your perfume

Dishwasher thrums
Glasses clink and clatter
Two feet or four
Shuffle cross the floor

Such simple sounds
Slide into our silence
We dare not speak
Dare not break the spell

We sit on sofa
One upon each end
No glance passes

How long have we been here?
No way to measure
No words to mark the time

Quiet slips and settles round
Drugs our senses
Fogs our forgetfulness

Lamp light warms this cozy spot
Warm almost as the dark
Of the kitchen you just left

My ears are drunk
From soaking up your sounds

Sometimes
When the noise dies down
I can hear
God's own sound

Sometimes
When the daylight fades
I can see
The fairy shades

Sometimes
When there's not too much
I can feel
Your sweet touch
On the hymn of my garment.

“Come over here” I said

She came
Laid herself upon my shoulder
And melted into me
As only she can do

For a long time
There were no words
No need for them
Just that powerful thrum
Like a lion’s purr

It held us there in silence
Like kids in awe of church

It assured my faithfulness
Without any need for promises
Or pledges or oaths

It will
As long as one of us can ask
“Come over here”

There lies a gulf 'tween you and me
One of which Rumi wrote
A churning chasm full of fear
On which this poem floats

Blood sweat and tears
to craft this line
to speak this spoken word

Yet fruit of years
dies on the vine
If no one ever heard

A mournful mist anoints the silent trees
A leafless limb grows crystal orbs below
A musty mother pulls them toward her womb

They tremble at the coming of the breeze
They fear the fall to what they do not know
They see the earth absorbing like a tomb

At last their weight overcomes their will
The tearing loose, the terrifying thrill
The bursting open on the forest floor
The ecstasy: One is no one no more.

Cliff Perkins
November 6, 2015