Tag Archives: #light

LITTLE SOUL

OH little soul —  rest within these arms and oh, Evie how you grew from the minute you came into this world until now.  And hey girl, (she always smiles because as you know it’s always a soul who frowns that makes the world
a bit colder)  she is the warmth of love.

(somewhere within her smile she knows)

Oh the movement you need is upon your knees:  crawl, then walk and one day we’ll run toward the blooming flowers!

Although the day may be gone nev’er are its sweet taste nor voice, lips or soft hands. You are asking me now but i cannot convey how the world is to a little soul — this just born girl.

Oh just believe me now and how i believe you’ll know.  How your smile and endurance awakens the angels and moves mountains and ocean waves.

What a warm breath, light whispering tender semi-tones.

Bright mind, accomplish’d shape and exquisite style — budding charms
and blooming flowers and igniting the sight of beauty within my eyes
holding the sight of beauty within my arms.  As a dusk holiday holy night
of fragrant-expectations lead me toward wild winded nights as woof
of darkness thick, for hid delight and full of tears crying for a day,
and  believe me:  let me read love’s missal through to-day, while
many days and years i’ve been alone and cried and how many ways
to try?  Always leading hearts of love back toward the opened
door of many tryings and waiting here.

Praying, i fast and feel that washing rain of broken hearts all
in no vain.  Let me know the way.

Still: it leads me back to your birth. And your entrance into this
world of cold.

:: 09.26.2021 ::


FRAMELESS HEADS UPON EMPTY WALLS

On the single side of my art song—my parodic air—the loveliness is perfect
because I am “last in the line.” When you sit there pondering how you got
from here to there, you forget to be there, and the years hurry by like birds,
yet without wings.

Maybe that is what poets mean by the grass between the toes: it is the kind of beauty
that strikes me as singular, and then makes me forget where I was going.

Could that be the air I am inhaling, that gorgeous little dew, the sort of fragrance
that one asks questions about. That one is good, and leaves you for another week.
I am not asking about the individual, about the wit or the sex, that one; the other
thinks she is too good for poetry and wants to hang out her pants.

The trees on Central Park West have not only dimples, but very high struts.
Many passers-by make like jumping spiders and creep along the white beech bark,
tearing off the strange multicolored pods that are the leaves of the American locust
and varnish the unenclosed bark.

For a while they seem to be all yellow, then the green reasserts itself and they all turn red.
Red like earth, red like hell. I say what I mean. Why do we make so much of appearance
and so little of meaning? If you were to sneeze on a weekday you’d make a million dollars. I’m lucky
to get one or two dollars a day for my poems, and that’s all. All my life, I’ve been scraping
and clipping in hundreds of un-sexy places. I once walked out of an interview with a magazine
that had hired me because I was willing to work for peanuts. So I said to the editor,

“I think you have the wrong guy. I’ll get a job in a steel mill, or on a frickin’ airplane,
anywhere I want.” He seemed to like that, but I can’t remember what the magazine did later. I suppose
it was less than they wanted. But that’s what I mean by avoiding the cheap. I mean always for the mind
and the intellect, as if one day the outer world were going to fall apart. When it does, maybe it will be like a tenement balcony—the floor’s going to fall out from under us.

My best poems are about love and death. I think my best poems are about women and death.
The romantic poems give me pleasure. I don’t want to forget about them; I want
to love them. I don’t want to kill them; I want to hold them.
A love that is not really love doesn’t interest me.
It is interesting to see the Queen of Sheba swat away a red and yellow butterfly that comes to you
and likes to rest on your shoulder.

But there are different kinds of love—one that wants to hold someone in a tight embrace even though
you both know that someone is going to shake loose—one that wants to hold someone
even when she’s going to leave—one that wants to hold someone when she has long learnt the fine art
of saying no.

I’m always looking for “the little door.” But there is no little door, and if there were,
I’d probably find something I’d rather do.

:: 03.24.2021 ::


MY MUD ARE SMILES

my mud are my smiles
so she asked me
are you lik,e Libra
eating my Soul
from within your
magnet Heart: i
thought and then wrote
precis of illusionary
words and unforgiveable
advice that taxed me:
crystal spine; it’s every
thought of your mind:
everything eating orchids
and placenta-angel breath
i barreled down so i could
confess back! Hey!
every thought
goes through your priceless
mind.

:: 07.22.2020 ::


OVER BORDERS OVER FRONTIERS

WITHIN the empire of my love & heart
within all things: so fly and kiss
all i am — within this empire
of visual senses/within all cities\
upon every blade of everglade
all the light all the fun from sun
i say: we are a people worthy of this
–holding out our hands:
upon the desert below the deep blue
ice above the rarest air i feel people
rising within the cities singing:
‘we are a people rising within the world
: a people worth love and care’

‘there is a people worth more than this
so hear me singing — all the angels and
all the devils around us can you see? there
is a people worth more than this who understands’

i say Life is the first gift
love is the second,
and understanding behind compassion

:: 07.16.2020 ::


DARLING LIGHT

DARLING light whose gentlest touch
might by brightest light guide
my love of life upon this night
Guide my trust
Guide if must
And forgive the rest of my weakest
traits within those hands called fate
My Darling Light that lives
and dwells within my Soul and Spirit
And saves me this night
Save my trust
Save if must
by gentlest touch this night

:: 09-30-2018 ::


OF LIGHT & LOVE

LIGHT removes hidden secrets
those dark betrayals of life
love begets that soft truth
and gives, thus heals all scars

:: 03-11-2014 ::


LIFE — THE ACT

THE VOID began its journey
before the Word spoke
and into light one begat the other
a universal echo of laughter
Our stage is not one alone
but a platform for a world
of souls here and beyond
Attentively they watch the play
so learn your words my dear
the performance of a lifetime
that we may give the audience
that which it has paid in full

:: 02-01-2014 ::


THE DEATH OF SIN

HOW we fear the judgment
upon death so near
The fear of sin
weighed against
eternal life
But through death
arrested is sin
for the dead
cannot sin!

:: 01-29-2014 ::


HER FINAL SPRING

WINTER her final Spring
in bed ridden fashion
such life fiercely battled
Industriousness bought
through pain and tears

Through force of life
and broad strokes of art
travels she made
upon creative youth

And Death spoke, assuredly
but crept in delicate fear
and begged a pardon
— a release of guilt

Her flower withered…
but not from existence
a pollination across hills
to the fields of other-there

:: 01-29-2014 ::


A SOUL TO RECKON

WHAT am I
if not
what I dreamed
Who dissuade
my imperial dream
that I am not me
What power
dissolves me
I say nothing
for I am more
— a soul to reckon

:: 01-27-2014 ::