Saturday, May 28, 2011

Surprise

And then something else turned his attention back to the stack of books. He looked over his shoulder at the timepiece on the ancient wall with a glance of uncertainty, and plastered on his face was a silly smile. He had been silent all night, the glumness was sticking around his mouth, and abstract feelings got in the way of clear thought. What he thought and what he did on this night had no relation – he glanced again into the air – sniffed it even, and the air was laden with a coming. A sense of chilled abandon, which carried inside a warm and glowing world filled with unending interest. Joy had a price – you hated your life when the glumness stuck in your throat, and you dragged your feet over small cobbled stones, and the sun changed direction and the wind blew east and it was all reported on the evening radio, mother wiped her hair free of sweat and then mother hollered for you and you broke your fingers, and finally then, the grass bloomed. You were happy with irony, it was a gift after everything that you bore. And then the winds blew east and nights were passed and nights were passed and words were simple and convoluted and words bickered in the moonlight over their meanings, whispering what they would do once you set them free, and words and music tumbled laughing in a lonely lane. How does it all fit in? Newly arrived packages and old dust are together for eternal time, and forward motion is guided by bounded tension, and birth to life is permanent – wishing for a future is little free and free from joy and aftermath of bubbled enthusiasm. Joking on a dry afternoon is a gift too, and your cheese is taken from you and you go retrieve it. Just so you can ask for more money and go out riding on a hopeful charmed night of one ended dreams, and after-dreams and further-dreams and guided-dreams and pulsating feather of the infinite soul of the morning afternoon and evening sky with violet strained cloth through the hot burning sunlight is awash with general indignity, discomfort and pain and realization. Mother cleans her clothes and then sets to work on your dirty clothes that you made dirty with perspiration. Whatever claims your position is yourself and gathering stone and firebread, killing joy giving birth to freedom and washing mind – looking for humility in very dark dry corners of a flat afternoon in cruel master land. In whatever pocket your coin lies, it is your own gathering that gives joy peace sleep.

Thursday, May 19, 2011

Erase a word - play on.

Where is the revolution
I let the dirt accumulate on my skin
How do the sounds emerge
I'd rather die.
I lost the naivete
Watch on - it is misty.
Watch on.

Tuesday, May 3, 2011

Adagio molto e cantabile

It never fit together, ever.
Pieces were strewn in a garden, the sun graced them equally.
There was no meaning before, nor there was passion.
My heat and my guile were hollow, my pride was bland.
Flowers were ordinary beings, with small faces.
The procession was empty enough.
There was no magic anywhere, the world was plain.
I was not grateful for my humility, I was not sure.

You walked inside, you touched my eyes.
You tread lightly, once and forever.
You were set in stone, you justified the promises.
You humbled the atonal universe.
You made everything and every being cry with longing.
You have the secrets decorating your hair.
You flushed the jumbles out, you became order.
You mesmerized the pieces, garbled the banal.
You straightened the creases, and poured the ether, from a plastic jug, on my surface.
You likened the hands to the branches of a tree, the feet to the waves of a sea.
You erased the small doubts, prepared the fight, you inspired justice.

If I don’t become anything, I will be yours truly.
If I become something and if I become somebody, I will be a tiny fold in your large shawl.
I will be your little.
I and you are together in peace. In salvation, we are bundled in joy. In nature we are blue jay calls.
We are in waters together, we are us.

Just for a moment, you bring forth the fantasy, and it is stable on the mantelpiece.
For a moment, you are invisible, and forever I am you.