he says:
I want to hear the sun..
on me


1.
cover the width of a personal compostela
the yellow-and-black bird
flitting
branch to branch
endless

square patterns of light
half-cut
into shades of green
and slant
oblique


2.
making headway now
companions on the path
passing by
auburn creature with lolling tongue
            looks with such kind eyes
            glittering diamonds
            sun sits on tip of wet nose
he seems to be saying something...
some evanescent message

thoughts are ventilated
tones of silence seep in
wild flowers in amaranthine bloom
sway in nature's perpetual dance
always moving


3.
what happens to arboreal ghosts
when we prove efficiency by cutting the arms of living trees
          and with it
extended family of foliage?

monk passes slow
nods in quiet greeting
a bare half-smile
   enough to reach
   yet just truncated enough

maybe
to prune
is needed /


4.
how many more steps to tread
before *the why becomes clear?

trod so far
sought so wide
read so much
travelled so intense

this journey alone
proves so arduous


5.
alone...

struggled with hidden pain he discovered beneath the layers of happiness....
suffered hunger and thirst along the way....
washed in ***** rivers with no soap....
had to clean his **** with dusty leaves in the eve....
and remembering to eat
what to eat...but berries in the dark

and he cried, oh how he cried
from a place no man should see
such a dark place
demented and wicked souls at the doorstep
of hell
would shrink at

but first
in order to do all that
he had to wrestle with himself
and die inside
he could no longer fail to consent

no wistful little prayers
or wide-eyed flower-eyes

nor awe born in luxury



yet
for all that...


6.
in a little while
you will get what you want
if you give enough people
what they want

pray in secret
in the sun



the boy with the Jesus sandals
walks on

his journey
has
begun....



S T, (thursday:) 4 July 2013

... he and she are thinking…a life together, still much in love, as always,
but a thought or two, once in a while…


He
Once, she was a frog
and I kissed her
and yeah, she’s beautiful
But hell, I thought she’d come with
castle and lands and fields
I thought that was the deal
but she just told me I’ve got to get real -
they’d done away with kings and queens;
a few were beheaded, and most de-constitutionalized -  
haven’t I heard? *“Have you been living in a well?” she asked.
OK, fine, she comes with all beauty
and love and care and all that – yeah sure,
but a million in US bonds and a billion
in the NYSE indexed on emerging markets
would have been comfy




She
OK - this guy is the best, the greatest, cool
he’s steady, reliable, good and loving and all that -
but oh, how do I get him to wash the dishes?
There are never-ending things and chores to be done -
like tidy the bed in the mornings, vacuum once a week
there’s dust under the table
And you know, such stuff that princesses
don’t lift a delicate finger about -
will he just work on sight of a list,
and get it all done?
And how long can I have him wed and awed
about this Princess thing?
Oh, yes – and I forgot one more crucial thing
that he must always have the bowl lid down after he pees
Is it too late now – should I have included it in the pre-nuptial?

The paper was a bit shy and ***** from the past few years of neglect, nothing ever grew more alone and distant than the faded words of a poet unfinished.

"The cold light filled the night as a wolf cried out, the moons eye a ghostly dancer."

Now so it seemed such a sad thing that there was never to be an answer; time would be the master and the minutes forebode disaster.

But of course, never the light of day. Stuck forever to twilight haze it filled an eerie air.
I watched from this broken phrase all the while in a poets grave, rotting from abused paper.

The night is a deep well:
stalks fall and echoes resound
as if out of an abyss.

Flash a lamp in, lose the light.

Braveheart awake in the late hour,
is there a solution to anything?

Events unfold; Always unplanned.
Reason an afterthought.

Still we dream. Dreams dreamed
all night, for a newer dawn.

To achieve something, something
that can make me more than you.

Are you cut out for that yarn yard?
Who decides when

a weakling mortal
breaks out of fatal space?

Flash a lamp in, lose the light!

Stalks fall and echoes resound
as if out of an abyss.
The night is a deep well.

I find it funny that the first time we ever kissed,
your lips only barely brushed mine
like light wind upon sand,
moving my heart just a little bit, but not quite enough for me to kiss you back,

it was an agonizing craving 

because wanting to mimic your lips
with mine as badly as I did
had been quietly, yet evidently
suppressed with my palm
pressed up against your chest 

to push you away

maybe it’s not funny after all

but at the time, I wasn’t aware of what it would feel like 

to lose you

when your arms were gently wrapped around me under white fluffy blankets

and your whisper
sent me into
a lullaby of tranquility  
I was safe there, a lucky penny
put inside your pocket

I didn’t know, one day, I would let my head go

and kiss you back
until there were no more clothes or distractions,

the piercing judgments cloaked underneath our timeless innocence 
 


I didn’t know, one day, I’d be as loved as a flower is loved by the sun
and soil
and that my heart would make itself entirely available to be nurtured



I still find it funny the night we held hands 

all the way to the bus stop 

and skipped a little like children on their way to school in the summertime

when the bus pulled up, you kissed me but I didn’t place a palm
to push you away

this time,
regardless of how many passengers
would see us

underneath the moonlight 

it just felt right



and I find it really beautiful 

when you let me cry like a small child that had just lost both of her parents
in a car accident

my snot got all over your t-shirt and all you did was rub my back
and whisper

I love you, sweetie



I didn’t know, one day, when you called
to tell me 

those exact same words,

I would hang up on you

because being that loved would become as
terrifying
as letting go of sickness

I didn’t know, one day, I would welcome you into my heart with
tantric grace,
and another day, attack you with
my own self loathing, 

creating a moat around my trueness so you could never get in again

I think I mostly find our first kiss funny

because I knew you knew
I wanted to kiss you back

the entire time

but waited months instead  

and you were okay with that

I didn’t know, one day, missing you
would make my heart ache
like one million pins were stuck in it

I didn’t know, one day, I’d be as ready
as this
but it’d be too late

Victor,
          Vanquished
                              both perished,
                                                     in due course.