sight – three good words

May 2, 2016May 5, 2016

words and water

on giving your
self

over
to the moment

dropping deep down
into that endless

ocean

splish-splash
no, I wasn’t taking a bath
and it’s Monday evening

a sudden rush of
words and water
rolling off the tips
of several tongues

I speak

to myself
and others

aloud
in the quiet
to the other
that insists, insists

me, moi
moi-même, I

ay, ay
the famous Greek
“outshouting seas”

and again
snatches
bites of words

maybe wisdom

drip-dropping
flip-flopping
hip-hopping

and there it goes

an entire video music awards
that shows
such roll of song

(it’s sad, isn’t it
how that space for music
no longer is a home of song)

anyway.

every way
time, space

written monuments to bad taste

that glue themselves to your memory
slipping out suddenly
in cravings for sticky-sweetness
whispered kisses, ma chèries

another time, really
leave me be

I need to write this
I need to see.

January 12, 2016January 12, 2016

overflow

lay me down
accept this offering
two to the one beyond
what is thought to be known

where grace is given
where light is hidden
amongst stars
legion
dusted on the endless black

lay me down
let the only sound
ring beyond all
that is known to one
and another

where time is no more
than the essence
flowing over
lapping on the shore
of all our senses, one

giving, living
knowing
one to all, all to one
like water flowing
glowing, bright
curved against the diamond black
breaking the rays
of the brightest sun
our morning star.

August 13, 2015August 13, 2015

rise and rise

two seconds, three
understanding blooms
palpitations rise and rise and rise

a hot red slab of anger, pain
veined white with amusement, wry
scorched perfectly on each side
with blood red coals of feeling
soot black with melancholy

then
after all pretence is dropped
leaving just heartfelt desire
to know, see
to really understand:

a sudden why
splits the tree of reason
with a jab of irrational light
a bolt of hot heart electric
that goes deep
deeper still
all the way down

cracking open marbled stone below
that lay hidden
under deep roots of denial
possibly, probably
lying low in the undisturbed slumber
of the long ignored
disrupted by a blessed moment
of clear harsh uncompromising
sight.

sometimes the mistake was made
too long ago to be rectified
sometimes youth means
being hopelessly hopelessly blind
to the silly slyness
that is life.

March 1, 2015