Three nights I have lain awake
Storming through half-sleep dreams
And possibilities, thoughts,
Mental magical carpets,
Half real, half realized;
Doors half opened and swinging
Smooth computers peripherally
Analyzing and verifying
Believing yet incredulous
Of the panoramic impossibility.
The stark lightning of imagination
Energized and rampantly naked;
Leaping obstacles with merry, nimble feet
Barely touching – gracing – the earth.
A sweeping wave of everything
Reconditioning, revitalized
Colorization by raw power
Of a reality as credible as anything,
Dreams of genie lamps opening
Construction paper flowers blooming
Water falling, cities lit by their own fires,
Shadows mocking their creators.
Stories so rich in texture
That you live them overnight,
Morning comes when it comes
With the snap of the blind
And a sense of weariness bone deep.
Aches from riding warhorses,
Twinges from old wounds,
Bruises and abrasions that quietly throb,
That you don’t remember receiving.
Nights pass in a variety of times
Lying awake, or so I think,
Chasing reflections in mirrors,
Tuning in to the colored snow
Falling inside my eyelids.
Posts Tagged ‘Earth’
Realized
Posted: October 18, 1995 in PoetryTags: Bones, Dreams, Earth, Eye, Fire, Flowers, Genie, Horse, Imagination, Magic, Mirror, Naked, Night, Power, Sleep, Snow, Story, Water
oh I hope for a natural disaster, too
just like you, so I can make do
with my own resources
and tame wild horses
to ride past the memories of fossil fuels.
just an earthquake or two
gentle enough to shake apart
the concrete and steel,
to crack the awful ribcage
around the city’s broken heart
barely beating, it can’t support
the far-flung extremities that it can’t feel,
worn roads like nerve systems
that are so slow to report.
sunder it with waves in the earth
and blame it on a poet’s curse.
Dowsing
Posted: May 13, 1993 in PoetryTags: Blue, Clouds, Earth, Grey, Lizard, Sky, Spirit, Thunder, Wind, Woman
One man walked through a cracked, dry land
dowsing for the cairn of a woman.
his spirits circled him like many wrestlers,
fanning the wind into slight eddies,
stirring the dust raised by each cautious footstep.
one man seen alone with a forked stick
walking away from a dirt-streaked car,
a door hanging open like a promise to return
to the thin blacktop stretching to the clouds
massed like an audience in the west.
his footfalls were distant thunder provoking blue-grey lizards
to quick movements; they reminded him of her bracelets.
the parched earth rose to cling to his jeans.
black spots in the sky materialized into vultures,
cocking steely eyes past hooked beaks;
he could not meet their gaze.
he gripped his stick like a motorcycle’s handlebars
and drove through the desert searching, searching
Cliffs Look Good in a Certain Way
Posted: April 30, 1993 in PoetryTags: Damn, Earth, Grass, Green, Grey, Love, Ocean, Sky, Woman
the most damnable thing
is that I’m wistful, how it could have been;
a cliff by the ocean, powdery earth
and a fistful of the tough grass
to keep me from falling
into a grey-green sky;
an ocean with waves and tarnished sparkles
to lap at the leaden bluffs
where I first remember dreaming
of being in love with a woman.
drums, call the drums,
beat the drums in a circle,
summon sound from your skin,
bone and muscled rhythms.
spin the spinners, earth born,
hearts beating taut, within,
throwing warm loops of blood
in long arcs through your bodies,
racing and rebelling into movement.
Untitled Poem #145
Posted: January 26, 1993 in PoetryTags: Angel, Dream, Earth, Eye, Heart, Queen, Raiin, Sky, Sleep, Wind
you left me with a scarf
which smelled like your summer rain;
you had worn it in your hair
and I had closed my eyes.
I touched it to my face
and imagined how your breath
would come so close to me
and how I’d hear your heart beating.
you left your scarf behind
a treasure for me to discover
and hold up to the sky
and wear like a queen’s favor.
the scarf is by my bedside
where I can faintly smell your scent.
I will go to sleep tonight
clutching this in my hand.
you, angel, have left your mark
to remind me of my dreams
and how you came to me
as the smell of earth and wind.
Another Poem that is Untitled
Posted: January 24, 1993 in PoetryTags: Bear, Blue, Brown, Cloud, Dream, Earth, Fly, Red, Untitled, Water, Wind
I know that something’s changed,
my bear’s stomach smells like you again
but I’ll yell to myself.
you come walking through my daydreams
as if you were some travelling Indian
who I must chase off my land.
my hair’s getting long and in my face;
both yours and mine, they’re red and brown
like all of this waterstained earth I see.
over this I fly, sortof falling from the sky
all around you, a shattered pane of glass
melting to dew on the tips of the new grass.
I go with no control like a paper in the winds,
scudding, a cloud, a castle;
help me find my center in all the blue.
He Stood Like a Tree
Posted: December 6, 1992 in PoetryTags: Birds, Cloak, Clouds, Dark, Earth, Fly, Mind, Rain, Sea, Sky, Song, Tree, Wind, Wings
he stood like a tree
on the edge of a cliff
before the sea
and raised his arms
as if wearing a cloak,
as if they were wings.
his voice flew
to the clouds in the sky
calling them to fly
for him.
the breathing of the wind
hummed in his ears,
the earth fell away;
his body lay twisted
and broken open
where his mind had left
it alone, just a tool
that didn’t work this way.
climbing stairs
of cold dry air
ascending to grasp the halos
of those clouds,
flocking with birds
and smoothing his way
with the power of his thoughts.
no need for the wings
of physical flight;
the rain couldn’t touch him,
the dark couldn’t hold him,
and the songs couldn’t
sing him away.
Thee Memorable Ocean of Dream-Boy
Posted: July 20, 1992 in PoetryTags: Blood, Boy, Candles, Cloud, Cry, Drums, Earth, Lightning, Mirror, Sound, Steve, Tears, Trees, Wind
steve said C-R-Y
[in hidden eyes]
thee, tears may arrive.
striped little boy I envy your dress
AND your innocence.
(shrieking) PAINTING,
blowing multicolored bubbles
through your paintbrush…
I Re-Collect
we begged lightning with fish from the solstice
[once upon a time]
when batteries ceased to function
drums only drums and howling,
croaking, baying;
Fucking with the night in
flickering candles, canvas cloudwork
[fists full of earth]
mystic corrections of our skin, in chalk, in earth
blood leaking from my ears
as we listened to the sacred sound of the wind’s whip
[lashing the backs off the trees]
you and I and fish, standing on a mirror, looking through the grass
into the heavens of lightning.
it’s a wonder that all of the leaves
don’t get up and trundle around
with all of the creatures that live
just barely above the ground.
the rocks and sticks on the earth,
the streams and fields that I
have crouched in, turning stones
or wistfully hurried by
hold the secret lives of things
to small to see with ease;
they’re working behind the bark
and playing under the leaves.
I lay claim to
this piece of earth.
something to
lay my picnic blanket on
when I’m dead.
sometime when
I don’t feel so lonely
and afraid;
somewhere to
rest my head.
I
I beat a trash can like a drum
in the alley behind your house
at night when the stray cats gather
on the fence around my feet.
we are all going
to fly to the dark side of the moon.
II
I see the big sack of your skin,
hung up as if in a slaughterhouse
and God stuffs in your muscles,
your organs, your soul;
sews you up and throws you to earth
to land like a leaping antelope.
III
I curse the dawn licking the city skyline
clean of the octopus darkness.
I hold my rings up to the last star
and plunge back into the timelessness
of the dirty brick alleyways.
I see the rain
breathe her mist
over the mountains,
marching relentlessly.
a fog’s curiosity.
smell the earth,
touch the wet drops
on a delicately outstretched ivy leaf.
Imitation of The Hand
holding endless golden grains of sand
at arm’s length – my hand
sifts thoughtful each piece’s worth
feeling the elemental drums of the earth.
Imitation of The Island
alone on an island,
I build my own church
to God
and it was nothing
because I’d rather have died.
decomposing, I lay in sleep,
wrapt in the silk of a thousand worms,
mixing with the rain
and the earth and the air,
melting like ice cream
on the sunny sidewalk.
Derivation of Philip Larkin
Posted: May 7, 1991 in PoetryTags: Earth, Grass, Imagination, Philip Larkin
my imagination has nailed my hands
to the earth and
will not allow me to pass.
the grass
presses into the shape of me
and the earth forgives, crumbles away.
I writhe on my stakes,
arch my back and strain to tear them free
my hands. poor blistered and chafed.
I live.
To Thee, Mescalito, I give my frothy vomit, placed carefully in this humble bowl of earth, in prayer for a safe and enlightening journey.
savage mushroom,
golden, proud rising
from loose black earth;
pale stalk, sponge,
delicate and defiant.
My days are numbered
In the belly of the beast
Floating paper boats
On a sea of stomach acid
Journey to the center of the earth
I encounter dinosaurs
Huge and big gulping
7-11 insatiation
Rod / Staff / Wand
Berzerk.
Untitled Poem #11
Posted: June 24, 1987 in PoetryTags: Blood, Cry, Earth, Echo, Heart, Life, Sky, Tears, Wish, World
My life is with what everybody has toyed
Shuddering, quaking, my will is destroyed.
I fall to my knees with a heart-rending cry
That echoes around in an empty blue sky.
Now the tears come, they come like a flood
But it’s not saline moisture, it’s dark crimson blood
Coursing down my cheeks, staining the fair earth
While my life is waning, they giggle in mirth.
Pounding in my ears, pumping in my chest
Why is it that I’m cursed, never blessed?
I hurt so bad, I writhe in pain
Consciousness is so hard to maintain.
Nothing cools me or quenches my thirst.
The throbbing in my brain keeps getting worse
As I see my life spill out before me
The sand turns black with my misery
There’s nothing I can do, nothing I can say
To make the world shut up and go away.
Sorrow overwhelms me, with blood I cry
My last remaining wish is that I wish I could die.
Tempest
Posted: April 30, 1987 in PoetryTags: Clouds, Earth, Leaves, Light, Love, Rain, Rock, Storm, Thunder, Wind
Cool wind whistles through the eves
Caressing, searching, rustling leaves
Over the horizon the storm does rise
A tempest which is reflected in your eyes.
A seething mass of whirling cloud
Approaching and reinforcing doubt
Resounding claps of thunder peal
With what forces do we deal?
Frightening fury, boiling mist
Natural power clenched in a fist.
The rain lashes like the Furies’ whips
From me identity and joy it strips.
Clutching at supports through blinding rain
A blasted shell is all that remains.
Yet your love is like a beacon through the storm
I see you beckon; my respect is shorn.
Caught in the deluge, unprotected like all
It is only the sound of your name I call.
Despairing yet hoping that I can hold steady
My energy depleted, my hands are bloody.
Beaten and battered, your light I look
Calmed though the supports of this earth shook,
Subconsciously surviving, the sky astray
Storms raging the heavens, turning them grey.
After it passes, the wreckage is assessed
Only to love can my survival attest.
To you I clung while the rocks were sundered
The earth split open and the heavens plundered.
This is only a calm before the hurricane
If you hold on to me, is there courage to remain?
Let me die, let me perish below
Into the never ending abyss I shall go.
When there is a crisis and you feel forlorn
Love can rescue you from the storm.
A bolt of light
Splits the heavens
A brilliant sight
It spares no grievings.
To earth it streaks
A fiery flash
Frighten the meek
O thunderous crash.
Yet after the storm, all that was found
Was a simply scorched impacted ground.
Dawn
Posted: April 7, 1987 in PoetryTags: Clouds, Dawn, Earth, Grass, Grey, Life, Light, Mother, Pearl, World
The first misty light of dawn
Caresses the edge of the world
And turns grey clouds to pearl
It wakens a peaceful fawn.
Rosy pink shafts of sun
Curve around a sleeping earth
Dancing in their endless mirth
Frolicking and having fun.
Dodging between blades of grass
Hues and colors, shades and tints
Sage, tulip, sequoia, and mint
Pine, oak, sassafras.
The deer stands on shaky legs
Lacking her mother’s natural grace
Yet having the same innocent face
Life can be filled with sweetened dregs.
The sun peeks out in its smiling way
As living creatures begin to wake
Even though another siesta they’ll take
Later on in the day.
The wind goes round and round the earth
Never slowing, never stopping
Seeing millions of people and millions of places
And rushing by, always in a hurry.
Always exhilarated and fresh, rejuvenated;
A harbinger of weather to come
Or a refreshing feeling, stirring the heat
Rounding the sphere we call home.
Moving, shifting, changing, revolving
Don’t you wish you could hitchhike?
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