By a Stream

As water undulates and flows
over and between rocks and pebbles,
winds breeze and billow
their frolicking oscillations,
and soil nurtures life, providing
the stage's platform, and moments
inscribe hallucinations upon mirage.

A bird flutters from a tree limb
and delicately perches upon a rock
to sip cool refreshment.

Trout linger in eddies,
their watchful eyes scanning
for unsuspecting insects
to buzz within leaping range.

I sit in an inarticulate hush,
shaded by the broad-leafed arms
of a walnut tree, thawing
in the summer morning,
reverie soaring among the clouds,
polished by simplicity.

Abandon to the Mission

A clarion call rang out through the still ocean;

Octaves resonated harmonically in waves,

Rippling out in every direction, singing a melody

Whose harmonies stretched beyond the audible,

Ringing tones through light, calming the constant,

Frenetic action, condensing dew drops of form

Out of pure potential’s cosmic continuum.

The taut fabric which stretched throughout the whereless

Gave way to indentations and the sudden weight

Manifested by illusion snared companions in attraction’s

Web; together, they danced across the eternal sea.

Wings of doves whistled as they fluttered,

And they whipped up motion out of contentment;

Great orbs sang their harmonies to the celestial

Melody weaving colorful thread trails,

Implying order in the splendor of illusion’s fabric.

The melody of the primal song urged the inert

Into spontaneous activity, and illusion came

To life, electric magnetism generated awareness

Within every thread of color, and the rainbow

Wrote upon the face of the waters with infinite

Voices, each singing a harmonic counterpoint

To the ageless yet haunting melody: an unending

Choral mass fizzed through the cosmos effervescently.

The sacred rite of universal love uttered

Its call into every corner of illusion:

The mission of every consciousness;

The undeniable motif sprang forth –

Forsake personal entitlements,

Yield to cooperative inclusion;

Fulfillment requires we abandon to the mission. 

The Existential Moment

Streaks bend perspective

into spiraled staircase clusters

of stagnant, static, stiletto-

bladed magnets that revolve

in undetermined orbits,

while gravity improvises

unceasingly with matter

to a variable time signature.

The effort to endure

strings together

happenstance beyond

probability’s grave and

out of limitation’s reach,

while infinite possibility

plays jacks with

the existential moment.

A rungless ladder slips

on horizon’s shoreline

beneath a B-flat chart bearing

Miles Davis’ signature,

while Dizzy cheeks balloon

to breathless intervals,

re-imprinting jazz’s jagged

edges upon a smooth delusion.

The master sculptor’s

marbled impressions incubate

upon a Kaifeng Jew’s silent stele’s

hieroglyphic history, while a frozen

instant’s cubed, crystalline equations

compensated for incapacity

with certain death, awaiting

the existential moment.

Inarticulate Slipstreams

Bright night's asphalt steam devours
Hillside necking parked moon showers,
Beam's arced water sparkling tridents
Subvert firefly monuments;
Devoted tingle gardens' walls'
Cupboard door cradled ghostly shawls' -
Forests - now plow sunrise corn highways'
Sight broken breastfed one act plays.
Iridescent repossessed dreams
Of inarticulate slipstreams
Cascade by newborn unsuppressed
Symptoms with an acid-etched countenance;
Dispelled conditions' snowflake flair:
Wilderness - an unbuttoned stare.

Memories' Amber

In the night
light rains
from the solitary
every-star grains'
blanketed amusement
the constrained shining
all-in-one star's
perpetual light

I drink it up
to quench your thirst

You are my gift

All knotted up
indispensably untethered
your indivisibility severed
while crimson fractals
glistened individuated sparks
of memories' amber
from ancient seasons
when the unredeemed
schism fracture
birthed infinity

I-we lie
together
under the weeping willow
sorrow forgotten
stardust alive
looking through
tomorrow's eyes

Perpetual Revolutions Shimmer

From All Hallows Eve
until the next Samhain day
a worthy operation works
upon each of three hundred
and sixty-six midnights
soar through dark's blackest reaches
fathom the staircased bowel's depths
of the Great Pyramid
seek out the calm eye
of turbulent Jupiter's hurricane
which no hazy mist obscures

From All Hallows Eve
until the next Samhain day
the magical rite performed
screams its birth on the final solstice
when a cold wind gusts
through the northern winter tide
and judgment bells bellow
the highest neap captures
greed and lust in ebb's onset
and the dreams of the meek
etch future's glyphs on the blank wall

From All Hallows Eve
until the next Samhain day
time circumscribes impregnation
gestation a mere
fifty-one spins more
until the door to Aquarius
creaks open gaping-eyed hearts
witnessing the Great Wheel
perpetual revolutions shimmer
a constant seed
an eternal garden

Solaced Wistless Sighs

An old man sits alone in the desert

Where he dreams of an island paradise

And when the late night slips into stillness

A faint light's illness whispers lies

Winter winds howl madness through the trees

As the faces from his past make him cry

Can a tall tale promise forgiveness

Though a wall wails solaced wistless sighs

Since birth he's lived to remember

Everyday he screams his lot to the sea

As the sand mainlines the sunshine

His hand combines refined melodies

When the old man climbs a mountain

And sits on a rocky terraced ledge

The bowels of the Earth will shudder

As his mirth fills mutters, wonders fledge

Shattered glass
A magnet without poles
The little boy crying into his pillow,
A silenced yelp
A carousel with no brass ring
The little boy's finger in a light socket,
An empty sky dwelling
A heartbeat pumping no blood
The motherless litter of one,
Dusk without a sunset
A bee sting
The boy's knuckles smacked by a nun's ruler,
Perpetual delay
A barn without hay
The child drowning in the deep end,
A dry riverbed
A locked door
The boy's menacing father lies,
A walking caricature
A searing desert
The word echoing from birth to eternity, no.

Cassiopeia

A shooting star streaked,
cracking momentary brilliance
upon the new moon's canvas,
tattooing the black void
with its sole illumination.
The glowing, aphrodisiac aura
embraced emptiness, draping
vanilla and honeysuckle scents
on Cassiopeia's shivering
shoulders of silky alabaster.
Her bright eyes sparkled.
Cosmic winds seeded discovery,
eliciting an amused pleasure
acknowledged by her alluring
Mona Lisa mystery.
Only Adonis and Aphrodite witnessed
my brief, parking lot caress.
She planted an eternal garden
in the placid waters shimmering
from the forest of my heart.

Up I Conjure Learning Inner Whole

Up I conjure gift rapt down
Full of sour sweetened void.
In not lying you walk out
On me, giving getting off.
Now sew future summer past,
Here a humble stumble gone:
Live-in maid made furnace die
Black the grey, doom-bloom, bleached white.
Hush the instant droning sound!
Start to measure leisure's end.
Back when battles had no front
Sky cried coddled, cobbled ground.

Learning inner whole,
Creating game's transitional
Room doorway, talking.
Riding French questions,
Twilight columned writing
(Cross-nailed language):
Endless experience vehicle.

Without a Lighthouse

Grinning innocence
broadly disarms
the recalcitrant; while distant,

bright, wide eyes
capture the periphery
nakedly unaware.

Pastorally pristine
property pockets
pantomime, partially
premiering play's
partitioned preference.

Unrewarded redemption's
fog bank snares
without a lighthouse.

Among Faceless Immortals

Your soul runs, aimless
and frantic,
a yet nomadic melody,
incognito
through starless nights
among faceless immortals.

You are the daughter
of a fathomless pool:
eternity's treasure.

What key fits your lock?

Whisper to me,
kiss the breath of life
into me, shadow
me with your embrace.

Aspen leaves quake in your
wake, like sound fragments
drifting on a high tide
without a current.

Impress upon me a knowledge
of every curved indentation
in your fingerprints.

Let me count your freckles!

A rocky cave cliff-dwelling
stands sentry over eons,
even as thunderous waves
splash their salty, foamy
essence into a luminescent
halo, a planetary tribute
celebrating tomorrow's birth
simply because you sparkle
among faceless immortals.

Chocolate

Overwhelmed by the scent
Strawberries named Paula
The salty Venice Beach
Taffy air wizzed by
An August sunset
That 1971
Blurred lights led
Up the walkway
To my hippie beach pad

In the later moonless depths
We all shed our clothing
And ran to the dark
Red tide phosphorescence
Stars glittered
The night reflected on the sea
As she hummed
In candlelight shadows
We swam naked and alive
Together with Hershey kisses
Stolen from masculine jaws
By delicately feminine tongues

Sangria

A blood-red, viscous sangria

paints a background wash, scattering

its thoughtless, liquid sedation.

Calloused durability wades through shallows,

curing freshly poured cement sidewalks

which exhibit no pathology: a hollow skull.

Hand holding reassurance slithers

beyond the edge of the world, smearing

sangria droplets across the cords of a snare.

Lines in the linoleum soundlessly

impersonated grout-filled spaces

between ceramic tile squares.

Convenience trips on any light beam, stuttering

incoherent aphorisms' dominating supplication,

driven along a straight-lined highway, swerving.

The blood-red, viscous sangria

impersonated grout-filled spaces

between the pithy beats of jazzed-up syncopation.

Montevideo's Beaches

Montevideo’s beaches I want to sip margaritas there
Where a bright sun bakes the sand concrete asphalt into an oven
Yearning a cause for celebration
The ancient Atlantic splashes blue in my reveries
Why does ice cool me from the inside out and freeze me from the outside in
War leaves me crying myself to sleep at night
Love seeps through my fingers like water I try to hold in cupped hands
The world shovels dirt over me as if I already lay in my grave
I’d have toured the royal courts of Europe
Or I might have been illiterate and poor
Expressing universal passion matters
I am like a snail morphing into a butterfly
As a four-year-old I almost drowned in a swimming pool
I keep my mother’s ashes
Commiseration contaminates contemplation
I’m not looking for a “Heart of Gold” just a woman to smile with me
Her rose-petal skin could soothe my aging aches
Let me taste her whispering flesh with my fingers and smell her ecstasy between my teeth
If only a she existed to ignore my faults and find the latent joy
Love seeps through my fingers expressing universal passion
Passion is my raison d’etre
Passion is my undoing
I miss bodysurfing in Malibu in the summer
I miss Sunday morning polo at Will Rogers State Park with champagne, strawberries, sharp cheddar and fresh baked sourdough bread from the Pioneer bakery
I miss smelling my mother’s kitchen
In dreams I hear the Atlantic waves breaking on Montevideo's beaches

It Rains Every Day

In Hawaii, it rains every day. The light rains barely disturb the seemingly constant sunshine. Foliage blooms, and the island is awash in a rainbow of orchids. Stress and tension melt away to the strains of The Beatles and Mozart. My mind now draws blanks at times and cannot recall trivial things, but I remember I once saw palm trees dancing to Lucy in the Sky with Diamonds. Young, bikini-clad ladies still stroll along beaches, catching the eyes of angst-ridden young men. Children run and play in thick grass, tumbling with glee. Adults sip Mai Tai drinks sharing knowing gazes, oblivious to the strife and poverty at the core of Oz. I lose my train of thought in mid-YellowBrickRoadsentence. Pink Floyd’s “Atom Heart Mother Suite” reeked of Stravinsky as I reeked of marijuana in the wee hours, listening. I wonder where my words come from when I talk; I don’t think of them before they come out of my mouth. Bonfires illuminate hula dancers draped with leis at luaus. Everyone shares in the feast of roasted pig. How the scent of the charred remains of dead animal flesh induces lustful saliva. The most complex ideas cannot survive. I laugh hysterically. Frank Zappa provides the soundtrack to my life. Pollen drifts on the breeze. The Hawaiian tropical storm passes before it is even noticed.

Rubies

In August,
chrome electricity
measures
Tennessee rubies.

Caramel asylum
chrome fiction
measures
rubies' condensation.

Silver eyelid
reticence petrifies
asylum
caramel electricity.

Elsewhere ghostlike
rubies illustrate
Tennessee
eyelid chrome.

Paris' sprawled
portrait drapes
caramel
rubies' romance.

Honeycombed veneers'
fabric sails
ghostlike
skyline asylum.

Oh! Blithe, Enveloping Treasure

An horizonless ocean
blending into the sky
weaves, without a loom,
a mandala tapestry
as I sing Om to streaky
cotton candy clouds
languidly caressing
my beloved’s cheeks.

Conch shell trumpeters
blare out a fanfare
for a regal procession –
every drop of my blood
marches, like an army
of idolaters, an impassioned
adoration procession for her
elegance, my song of the heavens,
oh, blithe enveloping treasure!

My eyes bleed prayers…
and the answers arise –
the cold breeds the sun
as the wind hatches chimes,
the rain washes lovers
enraptured by the moment,
bulbs release tulip petals
from Hades grasp, and sighs
catch in breathless gasps.

A wild mare gallops
in the soft, impossible
night, whispering secrets
to her spring stallion.

Klimt’s painted kiss
adorns only the lips
of his sleeping Danae,
whose fiery red hair
drapes over the shoulders
of the treasure I caress
with my every heartbeat,
and the fire of your spirit
ignites my life’s passion.

In the hearth of your smile
will my eyes always reside,
and the song of tomorrow
sings in tonight’s whispers.

Flinging away all cares
I escape into the instant
And dwell there eternally.

Pound Said; I Said

Pound said:

ALBA

As cool as the pale wet leaves
of lily-of-the-valley
She lay beside me in the dawn.


I said:

MIG ÄLSKLING

Even without
money, I will always be
a wealthy man. My fortune:
all the memories
a lifetime can hold.
In the phosphorous moonlight,
Artemis supplants Selene
radiating the nights of Aquarius -
and the sea
washes to my shoreline
the most precious sea shells:
my unsurpassable fortune
will always be knowing you.


Pound said:

ALBA

from "Langue d'Oc"

When the nightengale to his mate
Sings day-long and night late
My love and I keep state
In bower,
In flower,
'Till the watchman on the tower
Cry:
"Up! Thou rascal, Rise,
I see the white
Light
And the night
Flies."


I said:

MIG ÄLSKLING

When the wild spirit of Pan
Plays his pipes in sacred élan,
My heart whispers beyond land's span-
A silent melody,
Of epic rhapsody,
In impassioned psalmody,
Wailing.
"Wild blood coursing
Through my heart
Impart!
Beyond all art
Delight!"

And the Constellations Winked Approval

Come
with me to the summit,
to the mountain peak.
View
the diffused sienna blaze engulfing
aspens quaking across a dozing valley.
Hear
violins weep at Beethoven’s command
as the shadowy fingers of dusk
clutch the landscape hushed
by the impressions of Van Gogh’s brush.
Breathe
in the rich, winter fragrance of pine
needles wafting on a gentle zephyr
the way a sonata’s legato movement
liltingly surrounds lovers in the night.
Taste
the dry, Serein River bite in a glass
of unblushing Chablis as it washes
the heart’s impassioned palate
with the honey of skittish enigma.
Feel
strong arms swallow you
in a protective and nurturing embrace,
warding off the cold, buffeting winds
that blanket the frozen, steppe wasteland.

I awaken
to an imagined spring
voice heavily accented.
She speaks
in the languages of every nation.
She leads
me into Paradise like Beatrice led Dante.
She whispers
to me in my dreams like Alba to Pound
as they lay together in the pre-dawn
dew anticipating first light.
She haunts
me from the four corners of the Earth
as Gongyla did Sappho through absence.
She leaves
the same longing within my soul
that Sappho felt for Anactoria and Atthis.

I would brave
the tribulations of Heracles
to witness one of her smiles,
gracing her countenance, to gaze upon me.

I would have walked
across the globe with Alexander,
not to conquer lands, accumulate booty
and subject people to the Great’s rule;
simply to hold her in my arms
in the moonlight, to feel her body
breathing against mine as my heart
would pound against hers,
and to kiss the rosy blush of her lips
between the gasped gaps of her radiance.

And the constellations winked approval.