Oxygen, I
Afire, you
Particular particulate matter, we
Your grey-green eyes, my green, green eyes
This was all that mattered
Dissipated, now
Why
Science and God refuse to explain
One fluid motion this life
Don’t let the fits and starts fool you
A seeming inability to find what it’s all for
When people pain your heart
Love them aloud anyway
Should the days forbare to reveal truth
Herald the light nonetheless
Befriend all of nature
Indulge noisy children
Sing a workaday’s song
To the water’s depth, say, “OK”
At the end of the day, this is what it’s all for
Don’t let your eyes miss the overflow
One silken strand this life to weave
Photo Location: Bay View, Wisconsin’s Avalon Atmospheric Theater
Cat and mouse throughout my dreams
At play, we
I don’t win
Pedigreed, you chose, not me — then you began again
The poor girl of your youth
I am
Too much proof of your roots
Together nevermore, old friend — how urban lights pollute
Remind me to love, Lord
One ear up to all the world
One myopic eye
Just one
To all that ails me
Give me You
A curiosity-cocked mind
To learn just what is their need
Light to shine, that all feel seen
Many comforts and time to share
What might we share?
Except for some source of light
And the cello muse
I won’t pretend to know
Though
I like soft things
You like the edge
I’m drawn to abbeys
You’re from the deep
I flirt with irreverence
You respect me
So maybe we could stand
A day or year
A treaty, here
Find peace
Decide
Praise The Rock from which The Water flows
Not far from Jordan
And then, daylight
Appeared — what for, this song
This soft white light
The quiet, cool exhalation
I’d waited a lifetime
None books I’d read
No wisdom sent my way
Foretold through the ages
Oh, those kind sages!
The wholesale beauty of you
An hour, now, clutching the cold morning coffee, an acrid-filled, comfortless cup.
Still dark.
Consumed, we, with what’s bearing down at the door — bellowing “more, more, and more!”
Its roar.
Will this new blanket be warm enough, this day sustain hope beyond the front-porch light?
Windows fogged.
Still, dawn’s bright, there, without, meets a heat — long-stored and stoked — here, within.
We Begin.
Our finest hour
And, Goddamn it, lift your voice
Shriek to me from out of the grey
It has been six years and six months to the day
Set aside your pen
Unpoison your wellspring
Harmonize with me
End the endless justification of silence
Of the dark
Lived lives trump safe lives
Remember?
Demure fireworks, we
Metal salts creating light
Starry together