Waiting It Out

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This miasma, foul air
Vapor from the shameless exhales of chatter
Pollute my lungs with every patient breath
Leaving a residential tar more cloying
Than this cigarette, or any other
Crutch I have leaned upon

In these eyes lurk a feral glow of savagery
Are you so blind that you would smooth my jagged shape with polish
Because I’m blurry about the edges, and ill-defined?

Do you think adjusting your gaze intently
Will alter the reality of my flesh and bone?

I will meet you here naked in the golden light of dawn
Bare, shameless in my possession of flesh
This moment is mine, immersed in solitude
Yet no walls defend my gratifying silence

I would welcome the song of two heart beats dancing
While this rain whispers “yes” to every denial
Opposing each fear you unwittingly buried
Or uttered with shame in that silence you covet

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Lost Ones, Found

Lost Ones, Found

Rain washes me clean
Though I am dry in the lee
Of this porch, of the wind
Of a past I rescind
This moment is mine
The echo, a sign
That my hollow places
Scars and traces
Are not so far behind
That they cease to bind
Although I am learning
This glorious burning
Feeds decadence and decay
The way we all pray
To our own saving grace
In our own silent place
Where we confront our story
Beside transcendence, and glory
So I write, to spite
Darkness and light
Recalling that society
And also piety
Are constructs of fear
Divinity is near
Not found in perspective
Or a comfortable elective
Your soul is your own
A struggle, wisdom grown
From all that you were
Those paths that diverged
Led you unerringly here
There is no need to fear
Be all that you are
An unnamed star
Shine alone, while those deride
For it is in solace that you reside
where you most presently become
A contribution to the sum

 

Let The River Take Me

To this river held in the arms of red earth
Whispering to my dreams

I thank you

When mountains crumbled and forests shook with the violence of Autumn
This river hummed those songs of bone
Of blood in my veins and my heart pumping with life

Always in the background the reverberation of flood
That drumbeat memory of ancestors and hunt
Pounding in my ears the resonant song
Of water…. Of knowing

Backyard Reflections

IMG_0679Back yard reflections

Of a squirrel’s scolding

Or the painted crown moldings

My hands and knees black with earth

 

Wages paid in callouses

Long stretches of back road

Poetry, my heavy load

Each step a drum- beat rhythm

 

Alone, I was a mountain

Beaten by the wind

Growing thicker skin

Storm dancing, in solitude

 

Those are the moments that make you

With heart wide open, wanting

At all the world’s beauty flaunting

Leaping from your own peaks, to soar

 

A good place to learn your power

When silence begs introspection

Noting the fractal, the inflection

Teaching your ears to see and your eyes to paint

 

Yet I shall never return

To valleys of red cedar and pine

That passive state of mind

I would rather be a Tiger, than a Rose

 

 

 

*this was my view on the back porch today, and the reflections of the Lilly and the sky shimmering slightly with the wind made me… reflective.

I wrote this about my childhood in the Cascade Mountains of Washington

To Jim Roberts With All my Love

So cold in the shadow of woe and loss

Struggling to pay the daily cost

How many took with selfish greed?

Every green dollar and it’s hopeful seed?

Not you my friend, whom others spurned

Your company so firey, it burns

Of what you uttered, too scalding for most

The sinuous dance, the wild boast

But I knew you then, and loved you well

Thourouly, beneath your spell

And you should know what you meant to me

How friendship then was rarely free

So what you gave in your simple way

Means more that trite words will ever convey

Thank you for being so fiercely youself

Despite all those who have you Hell

And thank you for being there so late at night

When storms were raging, as I went seeking flight

For drying my shoes, my tears, and my babbling streams

For hanging your hat on the myriad dreams

What a person you are… what a spirit, what a man

What a friend I am so lucky, to hold in hand