It's Elemental

Category: Poetry

  • falling horizons

    today I stand on the horizon
    beyond the vast, known spaces
    my steps tracing a Moebius membrane
    as the white sea pours through my heart
    no there, no past, no unwanted memory
    –all swept lovingly into the waves
    seeds for waiting oysters

    did you know that I could fly?
    I didn’t either until the wind caught my wings,
    and the rock’s weighty tomes fell ponderously away
    like the unexpected removal of an atrophied, forgotten limb
    the only thing between my life and some great height

    it was the sound of the air rippling behind the gulls wing,
    the inevitable pulsing call of invisibly present stars
    –shining. always shining  
    and I eagerly ask

    who is singing the song that calls the fruit to bud?
    what whispered word ripens them? why must our ears be so ignorant?
    does not silent nature speak with my mouth?
    touch with my porous skin? cry these salty tears?

    nature, like an atrophied, forgotten limb, has been removed
    –or perhaps I am the limb of nature,
    which, only newly awakened, cannot yet know its mother  
    for I usurp her ears, her skin, her tears,
    assume them like a mask stretched taught over this shifting body
    while I forget how my wings lift me up
    though their rhythm ever flows on

    which is why I am here, cradled by the rocks and wind
    endless waves spread out before my dangling feet,
    waiting to reach the horizon

    sea meets sky


  • the world, seeking

    shadows fall on shadows, aghast at their own darkness
    times keep falling out of place, surprising themselves,
    trailing numberless atrocities like the dust of a comet
    sweeping ominously across a shrouded, weeping planet

    the forces are arrayed, the engines started
    words have been spoken, in earnest, in fear, in foreboding
    the percolating matrix of desire is abroad
    spewing the churned filth of age upon age

    grasping through coated vision, sickly sweet with unknown blood
    mine? or is that just the fading of words in the rain
    a forgotten calligraphy of music and coincidence
    swept into the tragic dust of memory

    we are all the friends of death
    we have slipped our milky white hands in his
    threaded our fingers into the dying bones of the future
    and now hold on for dear life

    know then benevolence, you royal heir, the polarity of spirit
    awakening with the sound of inversion upon inversion
    every coming forth speaking through white knuckles
    shaking your being, lighting it on fire

    death isn’t waiting for you
    you are the one who shall transform
    you are the one to phosphoresce in embrace
    while all the world casts off from your shore

    unshackle your breath
    unmoor yourself from the known
    take wing, rise up,
    you are the gift

  • dreaming

    sole to sole, my mirror image and I
    striding above and below the deep waters
    curious, I dip beneath the surface
    stare back up at myself, asleep

    didn’t you call me? i ask
    have I not come and knelt at your side?
    the shadow grasps my hand
    with a solidity I could never muster

    and bursting into flames I can only weep
    and touch the pierced hearts around me
    singing the ageless songs
    flying deep under the waves

    while some inscrutable gleam flashes below
    I follow, but it only laughs and disappears
    but never does it wander far
    always flowing from the future

    and when my breath grows weary
    with the day’s long images unfolding
    it comes to me, or I to it
    and we rise together

  • swallowing the sun

    what spirit speaks the heart re-echoes
    its lofty chambers with choric ringing 
    twist and fold in timely rhythm
    the fountain’s deep moods springing  

    unshadowed now, revealed and waking
    all forge and fire, veils rent aside
    the swallowed sun, see! – beaming again
    ‘cross the rivers, stride in stride

    the call’s heard round from distant shores
    the ferryman’s change cast far away
    for the light, in the light of what must come
    all self’s entreating sleeps this day

    for no ‘troth be had ‘cept to purest gold
    with transforming beat of future’s time
    sounding now through wordless Love
    the spinning forth of spiral line

    seen from above, auricles embracing
    hearing blood’s poems shouting alight
    the heart, this heart, carries forth the sign
    and the eye awakens in the night 


    The Swallowed Sun
    The Swallowed Sun



  • down they sing

    down down down inside there is a silent speech
    you sense it with your fingers as they absent-mindedly clasp
    the empty space between your palms
    a holding on to something that never was
    the words are unlike these, and your eyes cannot fix them
    into harsh dualities of coincidence
    cannot shatter their glass frames
    and spill them into false awakening,
    for they are too alive with movement and carelessness
    too bursting with their own unconscious
    to be forgotten by your recognition
    swayed no longer by pointed barbs of attention
    you slip unknowingly into the place you always were already
    the lemniscatory pulsing of the arteries
    a sonata played on your inner organs
    frayed concepts dissolving in your living words
    like salt into the warm liquid of time
    no longer obeying your self-congratulatory epistemology
    nor your heroically reflective meta-stases
    by which of course we can only mean

    but you know what I mean
    because you read now with your fingers, your breath
    your earlobes and your wings
    the sleepless ones are here
    joyous in your sleep
    sowers of your dreamless dreams
    singers of your wordless words

  • a circle

    why poetry?
    complex brevity 

     

    Ouroboros answers your poetry questions
    Ouroboros answers your poetry questions