Sit on that bench awhile
Look up at that sky
Listen to the birds call
Imagine what they talk about
Early one morning when you’re feeling glad
Grateful just to be still around
Lace up your boots and start walking
Up around the corner
Climb some hill
Take that stick waiting
There among the ferns
Grip it like a sheep herder
Like some old woman or man
Yes, keep on moving
But pause for breath too
There is time enough for everything
If you value the precious in you
Meet me there early
Drakes and hens in calm waters
Morning lights the bog
Who calls it Winter
Maybe not anyone
Maybe Winter ought be Wither
an unsettling in becoming undone
Through our adventure cycle we endure
So much unknown ready yet still unsure
We are not captains of our own journeys
until we’ve sailed far and long vast seas
Rejected perfection abandoned second looks
How fortunate the few among many
Who discover knowledge secreted in books
As vision grows blurred our steps grow slow
As thin petals yellow our music hums low
May your withering come easy
May your wisdom stay well hid
May your death pass swift and unexpected
like your brief illustrious lifetime did.
Why should I want to contain you
Place your beauty within this cage in this frame
For is not arresting all at the essence of Art
Fragrance of imperfect freedom
An unleashing
Flight from confinement
Escape from ordinary
Exploration of sensescapes no corporeal beings roam
Wings
Logic and deduction and evidence and explanation
Too loaded to follow
A bridge deconstructed an outline made of squint
Lace and velvet satin and flowers rivulets of sky in an ocean of dream
Scenes of an unscene
Can I slip into my/your/our centre in secret moments
Touch your raw naked pulse
Feel
What it is to know truth at the intersection
Where imperfect breath and depth of life exchange promises
Without uttering a sound
But a shift
Caught drifting soft past
A presence
Something there
Let us talk of death
for that’s what’s on our minds
We can talk of all the details
examine all the different kinds
It’s on our minds
It’s on our minds
Let us talk of loneliness
what happens in between
We can revisit all the sorrow
tell each other what it means
To be alone
To be alone
Let us talk of possibility
what we meant to do or say
We can talk of all the little things
that got into our way
We really cared
We really cared
Let us talk of all the changes
how different we will be
We can write all our ideas
in a special book of reverie
So we can read
So we can read
Let us talk of love again
and what we think it means
We can talk of human theories
following our dreams
When we agree
When we agree
Let us talk of death
for that’s what’s on our minds
We can reminisce the good times
rewrite replay rewind
We’re out of time
We’re out of time
I go camping
I live intent
I unspoken
I content
I no words
I no news
Sun rise
Sun down.
I go town
Listen rumble
Stumble rubble
World shouting
World inspin
World falling.
I go camping
I live in tent
I reinvent
I content.
Sundays I move quiet
through house street wood
listening for birdsong
wave off voices of what should
Sundays I step slow
close observe neighbourhood
Sunday time
sunrise to dreamline—
all mine.
We linger here
holding on
to some unnamable presence
these rooms
these walls
the elusive slips of light entering
from windows
framing tall trees
silent open skies.
These lands hold us
fixed in final sacred moments.
We whose quiet chapter ends
here.
I am a better seeder
than I am a weeder
I am a better listener
than I am a speaker
I am a better walker
than I am a driver
I am a better riser
than I am nosediver
I am more a whisper
than I am a shout
I am more a wanderer
than I am a loll about
I am a better harmonizer
than I am a charismatic leader
I am a better conciliator
than I am a first to bleeder
I am a better hider
than I am an overt seeker
I am a better laugher
than I am a weeper
I am a better reader
than I am a cleanup sweeper
I am a better old radio
than I am a new tv
I know there are a lot more things
I might as well come to be
I am growing better recognizing
what it is most likely to be me.
[Imagine What It Looks Like Here]
Easter:
Opportunity.
Awakening petals of heart connections.
Flutter.
Meet a new dawn rejuvenated.
Inspired by shimmer of bright, shining hope.
Resurrection out of the bogs of past misdirection.
Pencil Notes 