My palm warmed the stone
I plucked from the many
As we trod long across unfamiliar awaiting discovery
Before the steep
Before the onset of fear
Before staccato breaths bred control
I paused at a rubble pile
Sacred someone says
Safe passage to those who leave an offering
Balanced here in morning’s light
From above I saw them
Trio of pale mountain travellers
Sipping slipstream cooling parched tongues
Coats reflective of filtered autumn sun
Unhurried untamed unworried
Aware yet unmoved by human presence
I stood watching still as a stone
And imagined us as one untethered beast
Oh fleet footed wild ones
Were I able I’d run with you
After winds at our backs
Manes like wings flashing as we gallop high
To perilous wanderings of these unpredictable shadowy mountains
Fill up all the empty pages
can’t seem to say what I want to say
all those phrases empty spaces
between me and a better way
I draw close to pen and paper so word wary
no resonance no rhythm no meaning necessary
I can’t dance
I can’t sing
I can’t wrestle this night train down
I can’t keep this beat
up time in my mind
Listen to the distant howling
is that a watcher in the wood?
Raise a wave for the black bird flying high
It is impossible to reach there
but I’m still going to try
And bird rides straight on through blood red sky
If you listen
you can hear it soft in the distance
a harp or a flutter of wings
song of wind against fragile leaves
whisper of velvet rain in trees
light as breath
clear as waterdrops
of icicles in spring.
I keep a poem in my pocket
holding on as I go
I open and I turn it
asking what it knows
If we meet
in the street
I may pass it to you
Put a poem in your pocket
friend sage so true.
You, obscure and unknown
lonely quiet inside-looking-outters
bearers of fragile hearts beating earth minderers
early morning vision scribblers
imaginating further world articulators
colourers in darkness
openers of windows
unlockers of doors
shatterers of blinds
unseen dancers in moonlight
reciters of poetry by candlelight
painters of lifebreath on cool basement walls
believers in things that hardly matter at all
hallucinators of Beauty amidst shatter and rubble
You, stragglers lingerers
dreaming humming sudden songsingerers
moongazers stargliders
slow walkers between frenzied hurry-up-or-you’ll-be-left-behinders
seekers wanderers
hitchhikers cosmic giant thumb colliders
rainy night half naked pale horse riders
hopeful rhythmic intoxicated drumbeaters
sometime purple feather and white lily flower eaters…
I love you.
No one writes
letters anymore
so I write to myself
I like stamps
touching up
my masterpieces
between crooked li(e)n(e)s.
Inside stand
stand in wood
if might may wield
they could they would
why not we should
transform
a tree
neat pile
of wood.
Each one,
ending with
Kafka’s fade,
lingers days
whispering deepening
peeling half-speed
to the raw
distracted
gaze.
Just past
Cove and 697
you took your exit
still half-sleeping.
I guess your journey
called for only
half a mattress.
