to L.S.
from love
your passions
flower
like waves
of light
of light
streaming
between the stars
to rain upon the earth
where my life grows
toward you
like vines
eternally
reaching
for the sun
(February 13, 2014)
-
a choice
There is no reasonto continue the same,to resist the demandstime does claim.Cramped up in fearof what might be lost,like a penny crimpedwithin a vise,the chance to changerefuses to unfoldas it would if onewould only let go.Cling to the edgeof this abyss,or fall back towarda newer bliss?(from a work in progress, “Arcana,” IVpentacles, February 13, 2014) -
the weight
by
Almost home after years gone underthe whip and lash of it all.That I’ve done this before does not easethe struggle and boredom of the day:pick up a stone, another cord of wooduntil overburdened, then trudge on.A redemptive end does not matter,every task works on me like sin.(from a work in progress: “Arcana,” Xwands, February 12, 2014) -
singular grace
by
I wonder what confines youto one answer one storylinetold well with no loose endsto feel secure in a set outcomethat’s never truly in doubtas if some god narrator tellsyour story as you cross a streetdistracted by the buxom womanin the low-cut blue blouseso much so you miss the buswhich smacks you like hubrisinto oncoming traffic lanesis life simplified when one believesone word must follow the next(February 11, 2014) -
the craft’s the master
each differs in the makingthe momentary decisionto cut here instead of thereor not at all is the artlearned in time with toolsin hand sensing the grainin the slow shaving’s curlbefore dropping to the floorthe craft’s the masterteaching day by dayfrom what formed beforethe repetition and changeof each moment knowingitself as it unfolds(from a work in progress: “Arcana,”VIIIpentacles, February 10, 2014) -
in plain sight
by
“Where am I standing, if I’mto stand still now?”–Denise LevertovWith furtive glancesover unsure feet,I steel myselfagainst myself,unsureof whatto say:excuseshave no reasonthan to weaveanother lie;to tell the truthis awkwardbeneath a clearer sky.I gather my wordslike knives untilmy tongue bleedsinto my hands.I did not meanto hurt youin what I left behind.(from a work in progress: “Arcana,” VIIswords, February 9, 2014) -
and provide for those who can’t
by
The word is the windowthrough which, hands on glass,we see the warm interior.Learn to speak, to enter,and all your hopeswill be comforted so.Out here in the shiveringsnow, one may only listenfor the salvation of her soul.(from a work in progress, “Arcana,” Vpentacles, February 8, 2014) -
you fucked up
your red regret wraps youin a laughable inconsequencethe earth absorbs the wineas if you were never thereso you fucked up so whatlook to the wood near youalong this path a river runsits rambling way to the seathe past is never more than pasttake stock of the time at handthen pack up your remains and goyou are your only bridge home(from a work in progress: “Arcana,” Vcups, February 8, 2014) -
Tolerance Resists Control
what youchooseto dofor youis perfectfor youto dountil youtell meto doit toowhethera straightbehestor mockingsatireyou neednot explainyourselfto meby tellingmeto belike you(February 7, 2014) -
Trinity
by
three paths join in a woodwise able and strongeach heads their own wayeach committed to their timebut within this momenttheir three journeys stayedby whispered conversationsover hand shakes and nodsThey speak of past and futureuntil presently engaged againeach departs subtly changedby the constant push and pullof the one upon the othersbecoming and being themselves(from a work in progress: “Arcana,” IIIpentacles, February 7, 2014) -
Looking for a Catalyst
by
I should be content withbourgeois comforttend to my rosesswill wine with friendsI should be pleasedif not smugwith the knick-knacksand dust I’ve acquiredI should wallowin self-assured pitythat I deserveeverything about meBut I can’t so I mustchange my life(from a work in progress: “Arcana,” Queenpentacles, February 6, 2014) -
Demands of the Time
February 2, 1995The pen’s nib scratchesa black scar across paper.A larger world demands attention,but for now- – I write this poem.Like a bird repairing her nest,I must think about today.(from “My Book of Changes,” 1994-1995) -
Continuity
He sits near a pond.The pond is stillin the calmsummer night.His hand floatsabove the water,perpetuallyon the vergeof the undisturbedmoon-lit sheen.He is content.He is benefice.He is water.(from a work in progress: “Arcana,” Kingpentacles, February 4, 2014) -
Birth
by
So it’s over;So it begins:The present—always, againwithin;without sin.(from a work in progress: “Arcana,” Xswords, February 4, 2014)
