Compositions

a choreography

of ghosts whirling

on the stage of

my morning tea

the acrobatic clouds

that tumble from

snow-lined branches

grazed by dry wind

how the silent music

surrounds us how

the dance appears

to just happen

the way that memory

constellates us

with it’s tides with

it’s residue.

as simple as

                        as simple as

            no

            notions

animal sense

                        awakened

rolling field in

            tall tanned grass

hidden child

still hidden

wait for light                wait

                       

for sleep

           

            enough nights.

Instruction Manual

circle yourself

            your perception

compress yourself within arm’s length

sift what you remember

                        out of what you know

                                    then sift your known self

through the hoops of your being

            through skull

                        and skeleton                organs

                        fluids and tissues

            through synapses and sphincters

                        vessels pores follicles

            through your last orgasm

                        your last dream

            through your current breath and

                        the salt in your mouth

            through the fatigue and the aches

                        that affect you

            through what exhilarates        humiliates

                                                                        you

what annihilates you

                                                and what remains.

I am in

I am in

the open

field again

waiting for

the answer

I was told

to find to

find my way

and so I

find myself

lost looking

for who I

was before

I began

to become

who I am

I try to

remember

try to find

the soft hands

that held my

infancy

at the breast

the gentle

song of round

musical

motherly

nourishment

a song of

permission

to be here

but instead

why are you

crying what’s

wrong with you

all you think

about is

yourself you

never think

about any-

one else you

you little

bastard all

you ever

think about

is you how

do you think

I feel on

my feet day

after day

to support

this house you

selfish brat

how do you

think I feel

for a change

remember

I brought you

into this

world and I’ll

take you out

is what I

heard as far

back as I

can forget

up until

I cut the

cord with her

her response

ended with

“you stupid

bastard” and

I ended

the phone call

“and that’s why

I . . . goodbye.”

if the waves

if the waves

in the river

are blue

            then

it is

a shade of blue

I want

to be

            and if

reincarnation

            is true

I want to become

the wind that peels

off the hurricane

to sail over

the mountains

            to be here

           

to be

the hand

drawing blue waves

out of

this ticklish

muddy river.

to weld

to weld

stillness

                        to stillness

to dig

            with miniature lightning

furrowed congealing edges

to stitch small gaps with immense resource

volcanic shorthand

of elemental dynamics

attention is critical as the ancients atomize

as electricity becomes ore becomes molecular

                                                            bond

                                    nuclear

                                    stride in

                                    between

                                    breaths

                                    as if

concentration can stop time

                                                yet not

                                    without gravity.

Insomnia

                                    Rain,

your soft footsteps crossed the thin

threshold of my sleep and we danced

like old lovers  celebrating

the wreckage of our bond

                        two gray creatures

your filigree of movement stippling

my rounded stone

and we danced

featherless in the hovering sunless air

covered in your cold canorous tears

your song that flows over

                        and into all bodies

that stirs the silt of dreams.

the fox nipped at my back

the fox nipped at my back

seated as I was

                        waiting

she danced behind me

cantering sideways from

my left to my right

swinging

            back and forth

grabbing at my shirt in

the passing                  once

catching my collar

and I could feel the small

determined teeth on the knot

of bone jutting from my neck

I waited as the dance turned

from nervous to playful

                        still cautious

and spiked with warning

I continue to wait to face

and nuzzle this fitful

            magnificent being.

as though it comes

as though it comes

from a remote mountaintop

few have ever been to

this slight afternoon

breeze moves me as it moves

the maple leaves         lifts them

up to show the red stems

                        the eyelashes

of a red-headed warrior          drifting

from the ripe edge of the viking stride

eleven-hundred years after his fall

floating

here on the ancient exhale

                                    the eyelashes

translated between leaf and limber

arrow-like branches.

give me a crow for gawd

give me a crow for gawd’sakes

like the one I saw with a white

patch under the wing

                                    one like that

don’t need to be perfect

                        rather that a crow

could ever be perfect

or anything else but right there

when trouble comes swinging

her greasy bag a lollipops

                                    sensational

just the most sensational tongue-

tied way to live for gawd’sakes

                        I ain’t kiddin’ dammit

give me a damn crow like I asked

one to drink out of or else.

where a seed once fell

where a seed once fell a determined oak

took ground and forgave silence like the sleep

of birds           

and through

the oak signature it grew into a tower with the same

slow accumulation of stillness or indifference

that intervenes over time between lovers.