primeval molding glare
& shiver
the combative quality
of concentrated atmosphere
too humid too infrequently
opened to the sun

you say there is warmth
hiding in the whispers
of later hours
& long years condensed
into sublime awakenings
from unstated exile

(continue reading…)

Is there something more
than what you said
or what you gave
something more than
everything that passed between us?

Is there something more
than swift angles of birdsong
at lunchtime fading
or the pillowy music
of too long an autumn?

(continue reading…)

Woman
Take me to the springside
Talk to me
Show me how to ride
Your merciless inclines
How to get lost
In your welcoming folds
Woman
Take me to the wellside
Teach me how to lower
The honey-laden dipper
How to hoist & heave
In your name.

you were wisdom
or you were not wisdom
you were restlessness
in the face of winter
you knew emotional devastation
& were proud
to have retained so many
traces of what went before
what suffered in you
what told you how things were
even though they were not

I feel like I’m in free-fall
a regime of tiny plummetings
impossible to overthrow
floors slipped away
or dispersed into a vague oblivion
so many imperceptible plunges
so close together in time
it feels like unrelenting free-fall
irreversible retreat
(continue reading…)

Suddenly, she is swept up, taken off, by remorseless shadows. She is taken in by specters, haunts and villains. She is detailed and detained. Enmeshed. Embedded. Dethroned. Defrocked. She is questioned. Why? Why do you exist? And do you believe you exist? And do you believe?

You are the tip of the enemy’s spear. You are poison cloaked in truth. You are the mischief we seek to empty from this world. You are, like any other earthen vessel, breakable, and we intend to break you.

(continue reading…)

How shall I fill in the last
Page of this notebook?

A memory carry-on loosely bound
Together by an overstretched

Elastic band; lonely, dog-eared
From coutless days of faithfulnes

Ink-blotted from wet
Smudges on its back

I thought a few lines of reverence
Would do the trick

I thought a cartrigdeful of
Squiggly markings

Would keep it satisfied
For the night

(continue reading…)

With a penny drop I remember
With aloofness I seem to remain
The city that stirs below me
The lights of which
Crawl down a lane.

I’ve come to see it all
From a distance
As though my feet had stalled
On the ground of tiered asphalt
Soil of history’s gnaw

(continue reading…)

The creative approach to language, the expressive urge, the impact of a whim to let the unseen meaning come to be seen, come into the light: to write creatively, one must know how to think without the limiting slant of convention, and this means to recognize, to fashion, to come upon new forms and counterweights, new allowances, and to effect bold innovations in the way words and sounds and currents of meaning are matched and provided for…

To think about achieving new cosmologies, to think outside the geometry of the known (or presumed) universe, we must first come to the understanding that rule-based thinking is designed to leave us with thoughts that re-affirm the underlying preconceptions, the rules…

(continue reading…)

Things are so ancient resembling silence
Universal truth helping the belonging
To be formed into oneness
Corners of all the dimensions come together
To form perfect dimension

Looking through the crystal light
Energies emerge shaping the force
Keeping it all in time
Keeping it all in balance

(continue reading…)