"sepulchered" poems
The heron spreads his wings and preys.
His stony stand a beachhead sloughing
The salt sea, a sepulchered wading.
Leaven the broken bred, unshell
The teeming waters, a fisher of mermen
Unlordly low this lying father,
His wings are palms,
His rock a mount, his wings a bay,
And deafness, tears in the outer shores
And exaulted seas the forgiven waves,
Swells the briny blood and kelp.
Vains are streaming to the fisher king,
Lordy he lands the lying father
His wings are psalms.
A tiny flood that arcs the sky
Marks lord in miniature, a King
Fisher flies, His wings are
The waters calmed.
The otters bask and preen, mermen
Jostle in the laddered rays of the sun
They mark their surf, insouciant play,
Wavering the fisher of men, he sways,
Simply they circle in song singing hours,
Dancing as do the murmuring waves,
Their strokes are psalms.
Dec 10, 2013
Dec 10, 2013 at 2:34 PM UTC
Hmmm, let's see
I cradled the sun like a sick razor-blade
I found a warehouse of abandoned unborn hearts
I abruptly stopped a dead man to talk
I bottled up new souls for a long desert drive
I snuffed out every star with cathodic eyes
I fondled the carcass of eternal trouble
I found the hungry embalmed mouth of the first paid woman
I dug a hole; I tied rope; I burned cars; I cried dope
I shied away; I broke sway; I uttered “May-Day”
I danced! I sweated; I pigged out
I catapulted myself on fire
All this:
to see the harrowing sepulchered moons of tomorrow
like a strange weightless liquid
where I will appear and reappear
to the eventual astonishment of billions of years of shadowing sentience
Another universe gawks
Jun 30, 2012
Jun 30, 2012 at 4:47 PM UTC
The heron spreads his wings and preys.
His stony stand a beachhead sloughing
The salt sea, a sepulchered wading.
Leaven the broken bred, unshell
The teeming waters, a fisher of mermen
Unlordly low this lying father,
His wings are palms,
His rock a mount, his wings a bay,
And deafness, tears in the outer shores
And exaulted seas the forgiven waves,
Swells the briny blood and kelp.
Vains are streaming to the fisher king,
Lordy he lands the lying father
His wings are psalms.
A tiny flood that arcs the sky
Marks lord in miniature, a King
Fisher flies, His wings are
The waters calmed.
The otters bask and preen, mermen
Jostle in the laddered rays of the sun
They mark their surf, insouciant play,
Wavering the fisher of men, he sways,
Simply they circle in song singing hours,
Dancing as do the murmuring waves,
Their strokes are psalms.
Jul 30, 2012
Jul 30, 2012 at 1:28 PM UTC
.
The heron spreads his wings and preys.
His stony stand a beachhead sloughing
The salt sea, a sepulchered wading.
Leaven the broken bred, unshell
The teeming waters, a fisher of mermen
Unlordly low this lying father,
His wings are palms,
His rock a mount, his wings a bay,
And deafness, tears in the outer shores
And exaulted seas the forgiven waves,
Swells the briny blood and kelp.
Vains are streaming to the fisher king,
Lordy he lands the lying father
His wings are psalms.
A tiny flood that arcs the sky
Marks lord in miniature, a King
Fisher flies, His wings are
The waters calmed.
The otters bask and preen, mermen
Jostle in the laddered rays of the sun
They mark their surf, insouciant play,
Wavering the fisher of men, he sways,
Simply they circle in song singing hours,
Dancing as do the murmuring waves,
Their strokes are psalms.
Jun 16, 2016
Jun 16, 2016 at 2:30 PM UTC
The heron spreads his wings and preys.
His stony stand a beachhead sloughing
The salt sea, a sepulchered wading.
Leaven the broken bred, unshell
The teeming waters, a fisher of mermen
Unlordly low this lying father,
His wings are palms,
His rock a mount, his wings a bay,
And deafness, tears in the outer shores
And exaulted seas the forgiven waves,
Swells the briny blood and kelp.
Vains are streaming to the fisher king,
Lordy he lands the lying father
His wings are psalms.
A tiny flood that arcs the sky
Marks lord in miniature, a King
Fisher flies, His wings are
The waters calmed.
The otters bask and preen, mermen
Jostle in the laddered rays of the sun
They mark their surf, insouciant play,
Wavering the fisher of men, he sways,
Simply they circle in song singing hours,
Dancing as do the murmuring waves,
Their strokes are psalms.
May 25, 2013
May 25, 2013 at 2:51 PM UTC
The heron spreads his wings and preys.
His stony stand a beachhead sloughing
The salt sea, a sepulchered wading.
Leaven the broken bred, unshell
The teeming waters, a fisher of mermen
Unlordly low this lying father,
His wings are palms,
His rock a mount, his wings a bay,
And deafness, tears in the outer shores
And exaulted seas the forgiven waves,
Swells the briny blood and kelp.
Vains are streaming to the fisher king,
Lordy he lands the lying father
His wings are psalms.
A tiny flood that arcs the sky
Marks lord in miniature, a King
Fisher flies, His wings are
The waters calmed.
The otters bask and preen, mermen
Jostle in the laddered rays of the sun
They mark their surf, insouciant play,
Wavering the fisher of men, he sways,
Simply they circle in song singing hours,
Dancing as do the murmuring waves,
Their strokes are psalms.
Nov 15, 2012
Nov 15, 2012 at 1:48 PM UTC
Overcast in mid-monsoon
bursting over ceaseless in rains
whirl-dancing dervishes
petals in ripple lakes,
chiming with the thunder
bridging heaven and Hades
hot a spring steaming here;
When we walk hand in hand
dimpled smile to smile
a hundred voices stream forth
in the bush streaking my cheeks
black unknown the hands of fate;
Flaming a firebrand dagger
dug into the earth will not heal
searing the roots, fuming stamen
in wilting flowers of the flame tree;
Dry the wells after all the tears
to the sky and beyond.
You are free, woman, of all
oppression, by force or love
unfettered be your spirit,
rage over me, dampen the soul!
Frame-holding an angst
disinterested at the edges,
rain, gail, storm in the soul,
withered trail of blossom fall:
spectral here sepulchered.
Oct 31, 2017
Oct 31, 2017 at 4:22 PM UTC
The heron spreads his wings and preys.
His stony stand a beachhead sloughing
The salt sea, a sepulchered wading.
Leaven the broken bred, unshell
The teeming waters, a fisher of mermen
Unlordly low this lying father,
His wings are palms,
His rock a mount, his wings a bay,
And deafness, tears in the outer shores
And exaulted seas the forgiven waves,
Swells the briny blood and kelp.
Vains are streaming to the fisher king,
Lordy he lands the lying father
His wings are psalms.
A tiny flood that arcs the sky
Marks lord in miniature, a King
Fisher flies, His wings are
The waters calmed.
The otters bask and preen, mermen
Jostle in the laddered rays of the sun
They mark their surf, insouciant play,
Wavering the fisher of men, he sways,
Simply they circle in song singing hours,
Dancing as do the murmuring waves,
Their strokes are psalms.
Apr 17, 2014
Apr 17, 2014 at 12:34 PM UTC
The heron spreads his wings and preys.
His stony stand a beachhead sloughing
The salt sea, a sepulchered wading.
Leaven the broken bred, unshell
The teeming waters, a fisher of mermen
Unlordly low this lying father,
His wings are palms,
His rock a mount, his wings a bay,
And deafness, tears in the outer shores
And exaulted seas the forgiven waves,
Swells the briny blood and kelp.
Vains are streaming to the fisher king,
Lordy he lands the lying father
His wings are psalms.
A tiny flood that arcs the sky
Marks lord in miniature, a King
Fisher flies, His wings are
The waters calmed.
The otters bask and preen, mermen
Jostle in the laddered rays of the sun
They mark their surf, insouciant play,
Wavering the fisher of men, he sways,
Simply they circle in song singing hours,
Dancing as do the murmuring waves,
Their strokes are psalms.
Mar 12, 2015
Mar 12, 2015 at 1:52 PM UTC
(i, who have died, making this)
looks at the mirror
of this
and sees clearly
tastes freely
hears soundly
opens delicately
a god in form.
now the windows of my
soul are open
now the doors of my
heart are unlocked
now the roads of my
sinews undone
now the home of my
laughter loose in
the wilding air
(i, who have lived, ending this)
still sees a god
in the many haloed hours
i am truer than any water
sloshing against the blue
dream of shores,
now my feet tread softly
the illimitable earth
now my hands rest like
children from a day's frolic
now my heart is wan as
a seraph's musing is sepulchered.
now my mind sprawls endlessly
amongst cathedrals sleeping
immensely in the night
(i, becoming a god,
in believing and denying this)
Sep 14, 2015
Sep 14, 2015 at 10:20 PM UTC