Sailor Mine (for David)

Quiet,
too –
sun far
as far
as you
hiding
near craggy
shores
where
deep
pools of sea water
dot the landscape:
barren
wind slapped
abandoned
but by the
hardiest
meanest
wildest
marauders
warriors
sea wise
men,
who fear
little
of the dark
ominous
clouds
and
laugh
at the sight
of land –
any,
knowing
full well
the real
test is
far out
at sea
where frigate birds
glide
days on end
skies
opening
into
seas,
dolphins
leading
in the wake
jumping
showing
the crimson
flush
of love,
their bellies
high
in the air
round
and round
in and out
up
down down down
up again
so free
immune
to gravity.

At the helm
bearded
shirtless
face to the wind
he charts
passage
to some
unknown
destination
where he once
found solace
so long ago
where women
smelled like saffron
and jasmine,
mournful songs
filling the air
in a soft language
he’d never known
but in his heart
understood,
hands
bruised
rope lashed
exhausted
he journeyed on
into days
one following
another
under star lit skies
mad
drunk
deluded
by deafening
siren songs
maddening
dizzying
till
he woke
lulled
by gentle breezes
and warm
tropical sun
and nestled
in his beard
the tiniest
of stowaways
had found safe
passage,
its feathers
ruffed
in the warmth of his breath,
its tiny heart
beating
a song
of freedom
and long lost
love.

 

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Snow Reverie (para Luis)

Wet
wetter than rain
but so much
livelier
light
delicate
christening
sidewalks
trees
cars
fences
unsuspecting
children’s faces,
so short lived
but delightful:
a perfect pause
in a long the
exhausting
discourse of life
leading to nowhere:
here
now
an opportunity
to fall into
childhood reverie
of snow angels
crusty
crunchy
song
under
heavy winter boots
nose frozen
sting
on face
breath
shallow
tongue
out
catching
sky kisses.

For an instant
I hear
my father’s voice
as he laughs
lifting
me higher
toward
the ethers
his face
clear
as the snow
but all too soon
gone
like
this momentary
true winter
reflection.

Si ya se,
papi
siempre
estas aqui
en lo mas puro…..

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Soon, but not soon Enough…..

Goldfinches have over run
the feeder,
loudly territorial
glutenous
messy eaters
scattering
seed
like idle gossip
flinging
it
hap
haz
ar
dly
one beak full
happily
down
to plebeian
juncos
waiting
beneath
hooded
like
begging
monks
waiting
patiently
in the company
of a solitary dove.

In the warmth
of a short lived
beam of sun
sits
a song sparrow
sweetly
trilling
as if to hasten
spring,
which
blooming
crocuses
eerily
announce
way too soon:
this is a fool’s dream
winter is far from done,
rains
still drown
the morning sun,
and the sound
of cascading
water thumps
dawn’s
quiet
tip tapping
the metal roof:
tin soldier
not about
to stand down.

These dark
winter
days
force
the soul
to blanket
itself
in memories
of brighter days
when
shadows
give way
to blazing
incandescent skies
green hills
dotted
with wildflowers
jasmine blooms
pines
thick
with beetle life
rose buds
on every corner
in this city
of mud
turned ripe
and
tender
gifting
beauty
daily
on even
the plainest street,
daisies
lilies
apple blossoms
hyacinths
lilacs
magnolias
tulips
camellias
irises
wondrous
copious
roses
stomping out
winter’s long shadow.

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On this Inauguration Day

 

Dreary winter light
gray
faded
washed too often 
by northwest rains:
clouds
formless
too tired
to grow
into feathery
giant mystical
creatures
we might
imagine
and
name,
sun faint
hidden
by morning
haze,
as slow
to rise
as we
on another
long
formless
day,
but then
past
the chill,
a golden
glimmer
colors
the fir’s
topmost branches
as crow’s
gather
in boisterous flight
announcing
loudly
as they are want to do
that change
has come
now
sooner than later
full on
so they might
groom
in warmth
and banter
into
late afternoon
when
a new moon
in all its
tender
shy
splendor
will rise
forged
above:
a sure emblem
of change
new beginnings
and hope.

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Anahad *

Naad
sacred
sound
current
opens
our throat:
waves
coursing
in ritual
melodies
vibratory
mantras
cosmic
energy
pulsing
from
the ethers
into
our souls
then
 streaming:
back
into
universal
silence.

And then there
was the Word:
Kulning
howling
crying
ululating
we call
our humanity
back to us
high pitched
eerie
thin in the night air,
a fire
in the dark cold
winter of our
reckoning,
burning through
incessant
lies
torrent
of
evil
manipulations,
it is our
war cry
as
we forge
into
a very real
battle
for our fading
humanity.

Open
your
ruby
throat
and
chant
sing
vibrate
as the sun rises,
and sets:
it’s
our purest prayer.

*Anahad – the unstuck melody: primal creative sound

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Days to Remember (for Baba Ram Das)

How apropos
we are hidden
behind
masks:
smile less
automatons
our
grimaces
frozen
in time
like Munch’s
Scream
diluted
when most needed:
no show
of terror
grief
or love
in the face
of this tide
of hate.

It’s as if
a giant
palm
covered
our very souls:
but nothing
will silence
the movement
of time,
the storms
of change:
nothing stands
alone:
everything changes,
of this
we can be sure.
Years will blur
even this saddest
of times
when man
seems
hell bent
on losing his soul.

Tonight
strangers
walk at dusk
enjoying
a dry reprieve
from rain
cocooned
in their thoughts
‘ dreaming
of gentler times,
and in their hearts
knowing
we are simply
here
to walk each other
home…..

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Another Day in Paradise

In the early morn
I sip pungent tea
and practice gratitude
staring at the small
20 year old fake
Christmas
tree
stiff and prickly
well adorned
by little hands
lights a twinkle,
slightly crooked
tipping to the side
as if wondering
how much longer
it has to serve.
Winter morn
wet and dark
goldfinches
at the feeder
swarming
bickering
squirrels
planning
a sudden
assault
silencing their
chatter
with a thump
now
masters
of the realm,
clinging
as they swing
tonguing
sunflower seed
through wire
like manna from heaven.

And so it starts
this tunnel
of a day,
which I fill
with
now
and
here:
moving
walking
breathing
being
because
I have begun
to feel
the sluggishness
in my bones
steps
slightly shorter
like these winter days
when the sun
hides
in shades
of grey
drizzle
and
downpour.
Like the afternoon
wind
my breath
flows
into quiet spaces
where thoughts
blur
my eyes
shutting out
the busyness
of life,
unlike window ledge
cats
noses poised
against
cold glass
to see life
beyond their reach,
I close mine
to see all the more.

Beyond my walls
my city
my country
the world
is whirling
into a hell fire:

we are all witness
to the bitter
not so slow
death of decency
kindness
loyalty
compassion:
might slung
rage worn
like a battle sword
pledged
to chaos:
how low we have come
where hallowed halls
are tarnished
with violence
defiled with
the very filth
spewed
from every
stinking orifice
of belligerent
incoherent
demonic
racists
raging
defiling
our youth’s
future
their hope,
their world.

Now, as the days
get longer,
light brighter
I walk
into the evening air
dog afoot
gleaming
a glimpse
of ordinary
banal
life
masked neighbors
nodding hello
accepting this
smile- less new
age
of fear
but still trudging
through
the sludge
finding
a moment
of reprieve
in crocuses
trying to bloom
in the muddy ground,
or a robin
tugging at a worm
and the welcoming
sound
of geese above.

The dog
is eager
to lope
up the steps
to his dinner :
I find comfort in this,
and know that
even if I can’t see it,
the sun will rise
again tomorrow,
hidden
but not gone.

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