Sunday, June 4th, 2006

Shrouded

A hazy blazing white,

A mottled atmospheric mist

Of muslin straddled on the sky,

A harsh alarm

That silvers stretched

From pole to hem

And burns the compass

Shining without shade

And leaves not a shadow

But for the doubt

This bluff at blinding

Spares the day its heat

Though all the air is sun,

As if Earth is vaulting Vulcan

On her final spiral dive.

Monday, June 5th

Center

I want something deeper.

Something that can't be edged around

On the road from A to B.

Something that rings of the silence

Well beyond the mouth of the cave,

When the eyes are worse than blind

And fingers feel past sights phantom sparks

On ragged hands, ragged knees,

Ragged breaths drowning the scuffle of progress,

The shuffle of small minds

Moving back against you and to the light.

Something deeper, deeper, deep

Beyond where the cool cellar of the earth

Gives way to the furnace at the core,

And deeper still.

Something that stabs at the heart like a wound,

And deeper still

Curls inside itself and disappears,

Taking all its trace from the world

And falling through the door

At the bottom of the mortal world,

Returns to the nameless ocean

Of our soul's true birth,

Rejoins the common forge

That bounds our fate

If only for an instant.

Even if more than half forgotten

On the pained crawl up and out,

A memory of our true and singular self

Shattered back to you and I

At the first hint of sensation:

Yellow with sight,

Clouded with thought,

And only perfect when again

We are ready to descend.

Tuesday, June 6th

Virtuosity

The strings! The strings,

Singing, wailing, reach.

Held, held down and trembling,

Shaken and sawed,

The rasp of the bow charging them,

Drawing a pulse to flow and ring

Like the distant voice in a dream;

Filling the skin with sympathy

At catching both the sadness of heaven

And the fire of the earthbound heart,

The shape at the core of all things.

Vibration giving life to light,

Breath to air,

And feeling to all that sense;

The conduit between

The plume of bursting galaxies

And the flutter of mortal joy.

Wednesday, June 7th

Return

It's a fatal bargain,

Made with helpless exhilaration

The instant time returns,

Bringing the memory of dreams,

A thread of sensation

Wrapped in silent nuance

Already binding our end

To something new again,

Sifting the facets of renewal,

The parameters of awakening

To set a higher bar

Than could ever be imagined

Vaulted under the weight

Of hunger, love and doubt,

The flesh that ties us

So tightly to the ground

That our eminent nature

Remains a failing secret,

Rediscovered

Only at the end.

Thursday, June 8th

Flash Bang

They brandish words

Like need and hunger

As if love was unwelcome,

As if passion was a loaded gun,

And lust the crack of the grip

Against all reason.

They flash and burn

On all our screens.

They groan and thrust

Their wretched hearts before us

So eagerly that I ask

How it couldn't be a lie.

In the peace of night

Or the warm waking glow

When we should be making promises

Ridiculous in the day,

I can tell you proudly

I have no need of you.

You are not under my skin.

You do not drive me crazy.

You are not the moon and stars.

And I once thought

That I was terrible for this:

That I do not need you.

And I know you thought so too

Until we learned that in lieu of needing

We are free instead to want,

Free instead to choose,

Free to long outlive

The legendary flash and bang.

Friday, June 9th

R.S.V.P.

Everyday, the unspoken invitation

Leaves its home in the country,

Forsaking bluer skies and cleaner dirt

To come friendly and frightened

Upon the door of my mind,

Hungry for the safety of acceptance

So that it may turn to flee,

The sound of the city, jarring,

Memories of chaos reborn

And making the journey more imperative--

My resistance more befuddling.

As if I the surge of traffic

Was any less musical

Than the rustle of the trees,

The air of the city any less sweet

Filled with exhaust

Than pollen and dung,

The freedom of anonymity

Any less comforting

Than the watchful care of neighbors,

The patter of panhandlers

Any less welcome

Than the overbearing bite

Of the sun and mosquitoes.

When I tell you,

The true and only lure

Is that there I will find

Renewal for the fading scent

Of your evening table,

The shape of your crooked smile,

And the joy of being

More welcome than family

More at home there

Than home.

Saturday, June 10th

Root and Stem

There was a time

When I was as daring as broke,

Knowing nothing right

And not caring, rightly.

When I was elbows and knees,

All bare and burned,

And glowing whole in such light

That I could not see myself.

When I was needlessly lonely,

And ached to slip

Out of my awkwardness

And into anyone but you.

When I was less,

Selfish and harshly bold,

Jagged and spinning free

Into the delicate now.

And when I was more,

Lovely and unseen,

Yet to open, but poised

To become this memory.