Saturday, 18 June 2011

To become real

tonight I’ll tell you, if you want to know,

about a desert campsite long ago

with mammoth bones and the moon a jeweler

striding out across a skein of stars.

Later, the sky darkened, with logs aglow

(until the sun put on a brighter show).

One morning, I woke up from distant sleep

and heard the thrill of a river running deep

into a song of possibilities,

a springboard of unusual surprise

telling me (with gusto) – time to see

the water in another person’s eyes

and all our painted tears make daytime night

until we crave connection – with the light.

Wednesday, 15 June 2011

A Joy

When I was young, I’d suck up sherbert,

fun like a fool, take chances at dances:

looking for miracles, I’d go straight

into any action with a hatful of fancies.

Not small, the sky would be a sprawling

realm with joy, bewilderments bending

me, out of breath, as I boarded a trawler

to fish seven seas and land where I’m landing.

But, these days, I sail slowly

- bones aching lately –

and my islands of touch

keep it warm in the South.

As far as I can tell, there is no quicksand

with me on a road - heading West - round the bend.

Monday, 13 June 2011

In my time,

I’ve entered many caves and pots

and what entices

me about any hole or grot

is not the stalactites and mites;

it’s more that nothing’s

really there – a no-thing

- hole – this darkness – pitch black

- starless – blank -

and then an energy

swirls, connecting

up from hollows

(out of an emptiness)

comes a ‘no thing’:

God knows.