Keep your options open
Keep your self apart
Clear out the reminders
Never tie your heart

But I could never follow
Your truly sage advice
I'd rather feel the feelings
Though one must pay the price

And though the speech was spoken
And though we have last kissed
And though the door has closed
Leather still binds my wrist

And though Xoxo is banished
And though you learn the bass
I still look at your picture
Maori on your face

And though the cost of loving us  
Was more than we were able
And though there is no fairy dust
Your bowl will grace my table

And though the first half gain
And second half was loss
Despite that wrong direction
I still lean when I floss

Though we talked without our hearts
And only with our head
Though I left not crying  
Your smile still warms my bed

And though you do not tiptoe
So hearts are breast to breast
Though you say valediction  
Your compass claims my desk

And though our love was lust  
And though I am a mess
A balloon hides in my closet
And I am truly blessed

The pasture steams with dusky fog
The poet dreams of his dead dog
The fall of day the rise of night
The people pray that wrong be right

Tiptoe cross the dampened leaves
Listen for nocturnal life
Soak it up and soak it in
Silence is the only sin

Hear the drip and hear the drop
Frost has come and now the rot
Kingfisher sings crazy song
The people pray that right be wrong

Looking over lily pads
Green floats over slate grey sky
Dragon climbs out the lake
Now is time to do or die

Tonight, I stepped outside
To get wood for the fire
And **** on leaf litter

The sun was gone
Almost/dark
Just a glow left
In the edge of sky

A bird sang strange
Basso profundo croak
A goodnight song
From fifty years before

It took me back
That lonesome time
Me just fifteen,
Changing schools and homes

I walked the woods
Shotgun in hand
Looking for answers

I would never have

Step outside
Walking slow
Cloud above
Sun below
Sky on fire
Rainbow

Heat relieved
Forest drenched
Dripping leaves
Thirst quenched

Almost dark
Firefly
Caught in hand
Letting go
Whip-poor-will
Bursting joy

Poem lines
No pen to write
Hurry home
So memory might
Capture all
I've seen tonight

The Sourwoods sway akimbo
Beneath the windswept Pines
Oh, but to be a scampering squirrel
Joining their dance divine!

I was five when the snow came.
“Come look outside!” my mother said.
Sleepy eyed, I stumbled to the kitchen,
Opened the door.

The world had changed!
Heaven come to earth.
The plainest things
Now objects of great beauty.

Crazily, I ran to join the magic,
Stopped in the middle of the yard
To take it all in
And let myself be taken.

But all beauty is not kind.
The cold was now seeping
Into my bare feet,
Fluttering through my thin pajamas.

“Come in” my mother called.
“I can’t.”
I believed this to be true,
Though now I can’t say why.

No logic could convince me
I was still able
To make those few short steps
Back onto our porch.


I was seventeen when I met her.
“You can come inside” she said.
Awkwardly I fumbled
Into the shelter we made for each other.

The world had changed!
Heaven come to earth.
The plainest things
Now objects of great beauty.

We ran to join the magic,
Played at house and lovers,
Young, foolish and happy,
Beautiful and blind,

But all beauty is not kind,
The cold was seeping
Stealthily
Into our daily lives.

“Come back.” she said.
I really believed I couldn’t.
Much easier doing nothing
Than taking any risk.
  

I was sixty when Death came,
Forced me to look with open eyes
Into the deep abyss
Where one must fall or fly.

The world had changed!
Heaven come to earth.
The plainest things
Now objects of great beauty.

He bade me come and join the magic,
Make the world my lover,
Take it all in
And let myself be taken.

But all beauty is not kind.
The cold was again seeping
Into my bare feet
Fluttering through my thin pajamas.

“Come in.” He called
“I can’t.”
I really felt this to be true
Though now I can’t say why.

No logic could convince me
I was still able
To take those first few steps
Away from my back porch.

An endless ramble
Through an empty ancient wood
With your soulmate dog
On a cool morning
The universe complete

What was the point of her belief
that everyone was good?
Evil killed her anyway.
Her faith drowned in her blood.

The benefit that she received
While living in that loft
Her days not filled with hatred hard
But only love so soft

That one small grace was given her-
To know that every man
Despite his most appalling sins
Has done the best he can.

A poem should
If it be good
Do more than entertain

The greatest seek  
To quietly speak
Prayers for we insane

They drag us down
From solid ground
Our senses overwhelm

Cast us adrift
In leaky ships
No one at the helm

Reverberate
Storm our gate
Confound and confuse

Tear us apart
Open our heart
Nothing left to lose

Take away
Ordinary day
Replaced with pregnant night

Tempt us thrice
Satan’s dice
Fling us from the height

Make us dare
Float on air
Catch us as we fall

Blades of steel
Make us feel,
Tear down every wall

Cut our cords
Abandon words
Define the world anew

Out of luck
All awestruck
We kneel down in our pew

As you walk amongst the forest
Brushing aside his strands
Ask forgiveness of the spider
We are all in God’s hands

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

Little ballerinas both
Tiny yet tenacious
Holding firm to their beliefs
With hearts especially spacious.

I see how they have lived their lives
As parent and as child.
One’s love seemed a smothering thing-
The other’s freedom wild.

Through the years how much it hurt
To hold each other close.
Tiny ballerinas trampling
On each other’s toes.

But the pain was worth the price
These ballerinas paid.
Through all the years and all the tears
A meeting place they made.

A meeting place to marvel at
That lies within their look.
The look that lies within their eyes
In this picture that I took.



Ballerinas Two

They came my home this Christmas time
far off the beaten path.
Two wise women, studying still
God and Grandfather’s math.

They came into my heart and hearth
with gifts of small expense,
marshmallows and chocolate
not gold and frankincense

But Beauty lies in little things
Like S’mores making stuff
and little ballerinas
who’ve learned how to be tough.
And so their gifts while little
were much more than enough.

They came and pieced a puzzle
bright birds on a log.
The young one’s neck I nuzzle.
The old one feared the dog.

We broke the fast together
partook of bread and wine.
Body and blood, bacon and eggs
mixed earthly and divine.

We watched the sound of music
all sitting on the couch-
three dogs and three people
in everloving touch.

I sighed he’d lost his first love
then turned his heart to stone.
Losing one was losing all-
his children left alone.

Then came this lovely lady
to help, to heal his lack.
With push and pluck
with love and luck
she brought the music back.


So just as art imitates life
according to Aristotle.
This movie resonates with ours.
Shall we unchoke the throttle?

Lean and like and lust to learn?
Let go, let hurt, let heal?
Dance the dance that they have danced?
Let loose?
Let love be real?

A patch of ground
Pine straw strewn
Sheltered from worst wind

Lie down with dogs
Fur hot to touch
Tongues cool to face

Through heavy lids
See magic shows
The sunlight plays

Blackbug scurries ‘cross the road
Flees oncoming Giant
First the shadow, then the foot
Blackbug’s song goes quiet.

The Black Dog leads us on, we blindly follow
Over unknown hill or cliff or hollow
His eyes peer, leer from ‘hind his haunches
Howling at our redempt/preemptive launches

The darkness draws so nigh so down upon us
How shall we celebrate this coming onus?
This moment when our claws shall cause salvation
In ****** recompense to every nation

Since days of mighty kings and godly Horus
We’ve tried to make it right with might before us
But now the might has rightly grown to own us
Earth’s only hope is that it soon devour us.

The bad guy in the movies
Dies such a pretty death
Time for one quick line and then
He crumples out of breath
But love’s death is much different
The heart has claws and teeth

Love dies like those children
Starving slow, alone
Looking up with hope filled eyes
When all hope is gone
Accusing you with every look
Hanging on and on

Love dies like a cancer
The non-aggressive kind
That promises remission
For your many sins
Promises found broken
When the pain returns

Love dies like a miner
Trapped beneath the ground
Clawing at the cave in
Listening for a sound
Hearing clinking shovels
Coming to his aid
But the sound is only water
On the other side

Love dies like the soldier
Left out on the field
Screaming for his mother
No one hears his squeal
No one but the wild pigs
Coming for their meal

What did you try and tell me?
To make this a clean break?
To turn my back and walk away
Let this scene fade to black?

But this is not the movies
This love is far too real
It’s stronger than the both of us
It’s ******* hard to ****

So if we take the pillow
To hold against its face-
Push down with all your weight
To hold it tight in place

Hold it through the thrashing
The clawing of our arms
Hold it through the gasping
The hospital alarms

Hold it though the silence
And then a moment yet
Until the temple bell stops ringing
'til hope is hopeless met.

Come sit with me
Or better yet alone
Be a vessel
The universe one eye
A black hole
******* in sensation

Make no noise
Be unspeakable
With not just mouth but mind
Seek and you will find

A sudden surge tears through the underbrush
A tumbling tackle of growling fur
A cornered coyote attacked by my two dogs

I stand and watch
Like it's some nature show
More horrible in real life

Strange how long it takes
A good twenty minutes
They must edit those shows

He is wounded, wants only to escape
My dogs refuse, synchronously circle
One hundred and eighty degrees apart

He knows nothing of degrees
He cannot watch them both
So always, one unseen
Dives in to wound him more

Unlike him, I can -
Watch the whole show
From a safe distance

I do

Twenty minutes is an eternity
Death does not come easy

There are breaks
Like rounds in a prize fight
A minute or two for everyone to rest

He lies there in the middle
My dogs nearby
Everyone relaxed and panting
Like friends on a hot afternoon

Perhaps they’ll let him go
He tries but, no.
They continue the carnage

He inflicts a few wounds of his own
But the outcome is now becoming clear

Knowing this, he whines and begs
Like a pup crying for his mother
My dogs do not care

I keep watching

Finally it’s over
He lies there, mouth wide open
Showing his beautiful white teeth
Eyes wide open, showing what I have no wish to see again
His life flashing before his eyes
And mine

The whole time, I just stood there
Did nothing to assist the ****
or stop the violence
Remained on the safe sidelines
A ****** of violence

Only when it's safe do I approach
I take his picture
What was it the aborigines said?
“No pictures -
Your pictures steal our soul”

But I insist
I take the pictures
I steal the souls

His and mine

Cliff Perkins
September 13, 2016

First Frost
Is on his way tonight
Winter wind’s grim reaper

Some can be saved
By being brought inside, some not
Triage in our tiny home

Geraniums overwinter, but not Impatiens
Their watery corpses will haunt us all for weeks
Cut them off

I go to do this deed
Cheating frost his victims
Fighting fire with fire, cold with cold, death with death

Some pots are not as pretty
Gotten gangly
Or turned pale and yellow

These are easy to dispatch
Or relatively so
As clippers cut soft tissues

I save the best for last
Thinking twice
Perhaps keep them a while?

But in the end
Decisions must be made
Sharpening the blade

One princess of a ***
Shining in her prime
Attracting butterflies of lime

She is the last
Am I up to this task?
I do not know

I hold the limb, but hesitate
Its not too late
To change my mind

Killing beauty
I fear we both shall bleed
Though only one be dead

Searching for some solace
I pray a prayer
Forgiveness sought from her

From ‘neath the dead brown leaves.
A burning bush has sprung
A fire of such bright yellow
Like looking on God’s face

How this old heart heaves
To know a thing so young
Could touch a frugal fellow
With gift of God’s own grace

The daffodil cried out to me
Look until it hurts!
Your little eyes such foolish spies
Shall quickly feel my quirts

You never saw such sight as me
And never shall again
Beauty such as mine you see
Was not made for man

This sight you sought is dearly bought
Even though most wondrous
Those thus caught must be taught
Become my Erymanthus

Erymanthus was blinded by the goddess Aphrodite when he saw her bathing naked after she had made love to Adonis.

There he is
On the side of the road
Healthy looking, as though asleep
A dog you would choose at the pound.

So why this?
Dumped like some too heavy load.
Good, but for blood starting to seep
Like sacrament onto the ground.

Who will miss  
Him in the trunk secretly stowed?
Some child who starts to weep?
Til told he’s lost – and might be found.

Lying kiss
“He’s okay.” her father vowed
Is this why he’s left in a heap
No telltale grave that might be found?

Donkeys cross the dam
In somewhat single file
Meandering like a stream
Yet in one known direction

Their purpose made more serious
By their nonchalance
A dignity of being
Of knowing who they are

Backs toward the setting sun
Grazing green grass
Headed home, no hurry here
Though night is falling fast

“But Jesus stooped down, and with his finger wrote on the ground,
as though he heard them not.”
John 8:6

What ran through his mind?
God’s plan?
Man’s inhumanity to man?
Was her husband kind?

Why with his finger?
Dust into dust?
For better or for worse?
God given lust-
A blessing and a curse

What did he write?
Some obtuse design?
A stick figure of His own end?
A solitary hangman’s game?

Was it Words?
To Him to her compare?
******* versus *****?
Which was less, which more?

How to stop this madness-
Stones cast on her head?
Turn them into bread?
**** me in her stead?

No matter what he chose
He was sure to lose

Alarm clock’s buzz
Yanked from one world to another
The first so real but fast fading
A mist in morning sun

What was it all about?
Clutching at straws
Blown by this wind of wakening

Think hard
Grasp the remnants with words
Write them on the beach
That bounds this ocean of unconsciousness

But the very act of naming
Is a wave of willfulness
Erasing the words
As soon as they are formed

Across the lake
The sun moves
Imperceptibly
Unless you fail to notice

Dare not be distracted!
Should you be lost in reverie
For only moment
All will change on your return

Night comes
Chasing day
Like hounds after the hart
Nipping at the heels

Rushing ‘cross the water
A shadowy Tsumani
Drowning grass and trees
On the other side

No wonder we chose spring for Easter
All nature joins in resurrection
Today, I found blood on a feather
The reckoning keeps coming faster
Invention killing all connection
Dead bees among the heather

Life and death and in between
A crazy quilt of paradox
Shall we be ****** or saved?
What in heaven does it mean?
Was Jesus crazy like a fox?
Is joy doubled, sorrow halved?

Is it all a gag?
Not knowing gives me chills
Two calves playing tag
Romp over verdant hills

Eastern Shore

How many poems have I penned
Of this same sunset scene?
What drives my muse to sacrifice
At this altar again?

Lies there some ancient meaning here
That my poor words forsake?
Why do I gasp in awe-filled gaze
Across the mirrored lake?

The last of light flees up the trees
From water into green
And grabs my soul all unawares
And speaks of in between.

Of how there is no certainty,
No solid place to stand,
The only constant, constant change-
How all is shifting sand.

I beg the dying light not leave
I beg the sun stand still
I beg Time’s sands not sift through sieve
I beg Kali not ****

All those prayers go unfulfilled
The night swallows the day
The golden light that each leaf thrilled
Must Hades’ curse obey

Yet as I rage for light I lack
For all the beauty gone
I see a palette of pure black
To paint Orion on

What peace from knowing nothing’s staid
What consecrated bliss!
False idol Permanence betrayed
By sun’s last Judas kiss.

The shadows creep
Out of the deep
Crawling up the shore

Golden sun
Will soon begone
Light will last no more

Frigid breeze
Slides through the trees
Stealing warmth from earth

Dark has come
Into my home
Freezing heart and hearth

Age spotted hands
Type of these lands
That none shall ever read

Yet birds still call
And sparrows fall
Like hairs upon my head

Ever wonder
Why the broken bloom?
I heard the hole
Lets the light in

Looking at the Sugarberry tree
Its rough but paper thin bark
Splitting and peeling

Growth is such a painful thing
Is it the same with us?

In truth there is both you and me
Circling each other like a shark
Writhing and reeling

In the end everyone must hang
Please don’t make a fuss

Expectations

Say you’re disappointed?
You show such shameless pride!
By whom were you anointed
To control this aweful ride?

Think you are the infinite?
That order seems quite tall.
If you are truly infinite
You’re infinitely small

Hilariously tiny speck!
Committing God’s great sin
"Ex- spect" means to look out
Yet you are looking in.

Look out at this great stage
Accept your one true role
Watch each wild scene rant and rage
Holy See the whole

‘Tis good to expect happiness
To rollick with the dance
But true meaning of "hap"-piness
Is things that come by chance

Before you search for Rapture
All around this globe
Remember the last chapter
Of the holy book of Job

Atop the breezy bluff
O’erlooking all the lake
A flash of red, amidst the sea of green
Summer’s seen enough
Autumn stirs to wake
At Sol’s command, the black gum starts to turn

The world has changed today
Unnoticed by the throng
But some have stood still long enough to feel
The cry calls of the jay
The shadows getting long
The coming of these first sure signs of fall

These some have watched the season
Come and go and come
They know this show shall go and come again
They know this change is reason
That’s caused their mind to roam
Back to all that pleasure or that pain

Their bodies still remember
Those times both cruel and kind
That happened this exact same time of year
One wonders what past ember
Fanned by this fall wind
Blazed back to life to cause their smile or tear

There is really no such thing as truth
For if there were
Then there must be lies

There is only that one thing called fear
If you doubt it
Stop and hear our cries

There is really no such thing as right
For if there was,
Then there must be wrong

There is only that one thing called power
If you doubt it
Try telling truth to strong

There is really no such thing as love
For if there were
Then there must be hate

There is only that one thing called need
If you doubt it
Convert me to your faith

There is really no such thing as life
As long as we all
Claw and strain and strive

There is only that one thing called strife
If you want to live
Quit trying to survive

My garden grows by God’s green hands
I merely mend the trails

I wonder wayward ‘round the wood
Escaped from jealous jails

I find a soft, sweet solace there
Where human logic fails

Nature finds a new design
Repeats it endlessly
Out of utter joy
Like a baby
With a new word

Friends and lovers all in one
Could such a thing be real?
Our rabbits cried then dared and tried
And ripped apart the veil

We lay before a holy fire
One “Om” our souls revealed
But when we stopped because of fear
Perhaps our fate was sealed
Like peter on the water walked
just ‘til his faith was stilled

Since then we’ve hopped, started and stopped
Searching for that “Om”
Two rabbits loped, two rabbits hoped
To find their happy home

We lay in bed and smugly said
Stopping that “om” was wise
Just do the math -the solid path
Requires such compromise

Plod round the mountain step by step
Don’t leap from Cliffs of stone
A leap of faith is too much risk
Half loaf’s better than none
Friend and lover though both are good
Relent and choose just one

And so we did -we played it safe
And this is where we are
Our love is cleft and all that’s left
Is this ugly scar

A text from you hopes just for friends
After the wounds have healed
Have mercy on our suffering souls
Let the love be killed

But having tasted friend and lover
To live with less than both?
Be satisfied that Jesus lied
Seek neither truth nor troth

I’d rather choose all win or lose
Einstein would roll God’s dice
On wings set sail or if we fail
I’d rather pay that price

So I will tend that hurtful wound
No matter how it feels
I need a lover and a friend
I hope it never heals

Oh I will not be constant
The pain is hard to stay
Run hot and cold ‘til I am old
Come back then run away

But though I can’t make up my mind
And it may never cease
I know that you are truly kind
Hope’s better than release

Looking at the wild shrub
I chose not to cut down.
The one the Cherokees called
“hearts bursting with love”
Its pink fleshy pods
Open to reveal five seeds
of the most outrageous orange

The shrub has several stalks
Only one is overwhelmed
with those vibrant fruits
The stalk that is obviously dying

Sacrificing its own self
To feed the fruit more profligately
The children joyously
Consume their mother

Have you ever noticed
The fruitfulness of death
The tree or shrub
That creates wildly
In the days of its own destruction?

Birth and Death are Yin and Yang
The end of each always
The beginning of the other

People are no different
They too feel the chill
And seek to find a purpose
Before they perish

It is then
They plumb the depths of being
For perhaps the first time
In their entire lives

Mark the profundity
The leering crowd hopes to hear  
In the condemned man’s words
Right before the hangman
Springs the trap

I arise at first light
Sirens of sound and sense
Call me to the dock
Sleepy- eyed
I can’t resist
The love they offer daily

The slothful sun
Clears the trees across the lake
Burning off the mists
Dying cool breezes
Killing soft light
Getting over mourning

Remembering mornings gone before
Waxing and waning
Rising and setting
My hand shakes
From coffee or old age or both

Listening to the song “Suzanne“
By Leonard Cohen
I am reminded of old lovers
Each in some different way
I still love them all

Still thrill at the joys
Still hurt at the sorrows
I listen three or four times
And cry every one
I should be getting over them by now


Every person I touch
If only for one moment
Is my lover
The child I pass in the grocery store
Smiles and waves
As though he knew me intimately
Which he does

His mother smiles too
But differently
A tense, perfunctory smile
Tense like her grip
Tightening on his hand

She’s afraid because -Who knows?
I might be a pervert
Soon she will teach him
To guard his heart more closely
To get over it.

Good for Nothing

I have been up for an hour now
And I haven’t done anything constructive
I threw on some ***** clothes
Made coffee
Took a walk

When I got back, I turned my computer on
It flashed its reminders and appointments
“Do this. Do that.”
Deadlines and commitments
I clicked the little button that says
“I’ll be there”

But I’m not there
I’m still here

Guilt inexorably and surreptitiously
Seeps through my defenses
Like floodwaters through sandbags
Showing me its mirror
With its version
Of who I should be

But the dogs lie peaceful at my feet.
The cool morning air caresses my cheek.
The sun proclaims that the new leaves
are a thousand shades of green.
The birds scold me
for sitting too close to their food.

Good poems are like winter
When the fierce wind
Strips trees to X-rays
Nailed to the blinding blue

When the rain scoured air
Cleansed and clear
Pared down to Nothing
Reveals everything

When world, warmth-stripped
Left uncaring, cold
Shakes us awake
From our ambiguous dreams

Good poems are like winter
Much removed, little left
But those few remnants scream
With blood curdling power

Last week one could see
Across the valley
Through the trees
The sky was crystal blue
The air/light clear

Now the GREEN has come
Suffocating sight and sound
******* up the water
Drying out the ground

Warm air loving me to death
With its sweet breath

Cows chew on their cud
Sweet green grass
Entering their gut
Full of ancient worms
Fulfilling their cycle
This too shall pass

Just a week ago
Moisture in the ground
Footfalls fell so soft, so quiet
As we walked in churchly light

Mother earth was full
Until she felt the pull
That tidal call
Pulled into the canopy
By roots unfound, unseen
All to make the GREEN

Now the soil is bitter
As we make our way
We are betrayed
By crunching leaf litter

I sit here on the couch
And listen to her voice as she converses through the ether
I do not know what is discussed
From my one side of the conversation
But I know her voice is beautiful and caring and kind

I am here at her house
Just being domestic
Each of us doing our own thing
Yet knowing the other is there if needed

The room is quiet now
The fan revolves
The refrigerator hums
The light from the window is dim

There is a peace in knowing
That I am allowed to be here
Even though there is no reason
No purpose to my presence
Except my presence

Our love is coalescing
Becoming firm and stable
Less wobbles now
Less danger of a fall

But it will always bear watching
Will always need attendance
So I shall try to do that
Be the tender of the tender

Where is all this going?
When will all this end?
I have no way of knowing
But I have found the Friend

I got my hair cut Wednesday.
Lynne talked as she plied her trade.
A kitten was born on her doorstep-
Strange how the world is made.

Online Lynne read that mother cats
often give birth at your door.
Coincidences abounded.
Does death abound even more?

If mother cats know about doorsteps,
do they know which people to choose?
Is a cradle worth less than a manger?
To save your life must you lose?

Lynne wasn’t supposed to be there.
Her shop was closed that day
That’s a door she never uses.
What drew her so far astray?

Mother cat had chosen most wisely.
No doorstep was better than Lynne’s.
But can one this young survive?
Are babes blotched with original sins?

Extraordinary measures
for extraordinary things are required.
Lynne fed every fifteen minutes.
Loving never makes one tired.

Lynne spent forty eight hours
wrestling with God for this child.
Vets, internets and eye droppers
saved it from the law of the wild.

Hope is the name she gave her.
Hope is what saw her through.
Stronger hour by hour-
Death had been cheated anew.

Now she is sleeping so soundly
with covers snuggled up to her head.
Lynne looks and loves her fondly,
then sees that she is dead.

So I sit and hear this story.
Lynne brings Hope in her tiny box.
The sight of her rips my heart open
Like a raft ruined on ragged rocks.

She finished with my haircut
ignoring all my tears.
Today I sit and write this
with the help of a few beers.

How can this have happened
Is it part of the Master’s plan?
Malt much more than Milton
justifies God’s ways to man.

my apologies to A.E. Houseman and his poem “Terrence This is Stupid Stuff”

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

1.  Preparing the bed:
The best way to start a fire
Is never let it die
Bank the embers
They will burst back in flame
When you are ready again
Do not wait too long

If you are too late, still-
Leave some ashes from the old fire
Like memories, they hold warmth
And make a place
To welcome the new one

2. Choosing the Wood:
Some wood burns hot
Some burns cool
You need them both

One provides the heat
That keeps the fire alive
In difficult moments
But alone, burns out far too fast

The other tempers
Slows the burn
Makes the longer stronger fire

3. Spacing the Wood:
Distance is crucial
Place the pieces carefully
Close enough to heat each other
But allowing room to breathe

4. Tinder:
If there are no embers, use tender
It flames at a touch
Heart of pine is best

5. Tending the fire
If all above goes well
A roaring fire
Still needs your attention

Sparks go astray
Hearths grow cold
Care is an active verb

There are days I feel like them
My own head hanging low
Life’s blood slowly ****** aside
But even then I know

Soon the sun will shift away
Returning precious shade
Mists of midnight’s cooling fog
Coming to our aid

There is a boy inside of me
A most mischievous child
Who hurts his love, but most himself
He keeps the romance wild

He dwells in a land of absolutes
“She loves me loves me not”
All or nothing, life or death
A terrible game for a tot

His highs so high, his lows so low
Ecstasy and despair
Yet he’d not trade those two extremes
Less feeling for less fear

Because less fear would also mean
Less feeling of the highs
He hates but holds the horrors
That his heart might hold your sighs

He’s unsophisticated
Unsure ***** unwashed
His love’s too simply stated  
But he loves unabashed

This bearded one who watches him
Knows compromise is real
Yet in his heart he wishes he
Could feel that trembling still

And so they go hand in hand
A most unlikely pair
Their three legged race a funny farce
Still makes you shed a tear

How can this work? How can it last?
These two extremes in one
Can child be father to the man
Man child to the son?

Keep the passions of the youth
To melt with fiery fusion?
Keep too the crone’s wisdom, truth
To know hell’s an illusion?

Who shall win this battle?
Which one shall remain?
A young child’s fire, an old man’s peace?
Must there be loss to gain?

Perhaps there is an answer
That does not end in pain
That marries well the best of both
Convergence of the twain

All this struggle that you see
That is so hard and painful
Is these two Jacobs becoming free
By wrestling each his angel

One morning’s walk there she was
A coral orange flower
Engaged in a staring contest with the sun
******* up the sap
Of the rushing water at her feet
Exulting with the orgiastic rapids
A shameless harlot
Flaunting her perfection

I plucked her

Held her in my hand
Walked quickly back the short way home

All was well
I was in control
Towering over her small frame
I would trim her stem
Install her on a throne of crystal
Satisfy her wants and needs
Show off my new possession

But the ***** betrayed me
She had tricks I never knew
Ways to show me
I was not the master

I looked down to see her
Dead in those few minutes
But with a smile on her face

How can it be
That you and I
So different from each other
Still find ourselves
So constantly
Brought back to one another?

Why do we try
And try again
Despite the odds against us?
Why do we fly
And fly again
Like this moment’s Icarus?

Why do we cry
and feel the pain
that square peg/round hole cause us?
Why we do try
And try again
Like today’s Prometheus?

Because, like Icarus we know
The game is worth the candle
The sun we seek may melt our wax
But we’re not too hot to handle

And like Prometheus we know
The pain is worth the pleasure
Flying higher
Finding fire
There is no greater treasure

So we have gone
Repaired our wings
And flown again much higher
So we have torn
Our hearts open
To discover true love’s fire

And each attempt
To reach ideal
The joy is always greater
I know more you
You know more me
We are each other’s satyr

“Tis destiny…
(The Gods all say)…
you felt when your eyes his met”
For you and me
this work is play
God’s will, maya, kismet.