Avilion

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

Kadesh

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

Moment Lovers

Step one, get weird with it. This belongs to you all, after all.

Step two, present yourselves all ways, every day, at the same time.

Step five, step five?! Yes, step five — there’s nothing linear or logical of this.

Step five, show the canvas of man what these years of kinship mean.

Step six, dip your brush in cool, cool water, then choose the color violet. Or orchid, because you are bold, or you want to be.

Step three, make a space in advance, or in the moment, or not at all. The whole Earth was prepared for you.

Step four, never end before you’ve finished, or for forever, whichever comes first. Last.

Step seven, relay your love for The All of them. Take responsibility and fight again tomorrow with the sunrise.

O’ Our Stars

Not obtuse
Not acute
Not Hell-bent for the stars

I must go
I must be
I must give what is ours

If you look
If you ask
If you promise what’s true

You will find
You will learn
You will become who’s you

The Bend

Was the water as fine a host as your story told? The global position as true? It has been some time, and I’ve navigated North somewhat, bring me back.

What shifting of the ground beneath your feet? What compromise refused? Oft’ the sands of time serve us, some act as cogs, and some as polish.

Seek with me a patient balance. Find the urgent, too. May it be our paths have merged, when this day ends, when ‘morrow comes.

The Fates

Why did you act like water and feel like hands

And I, born thirsty with never a progenitor to touch me

Why did I, the reluctant saint, concede nonetheless to True North’s tug

And you, the only lesser god ever worth worshipping