Emotional to the point of rationality
How is it then
to choose to live anew
and so severed must your world of now become?
I am no surgeon
but I stitch
pieces I know to be true
into the whole-new
(dripped in my own blood)
where harm is removed.
The whole-new
out through existence buzzing
becomes the surgeon –
the felt bestowed a tool which pulses
the harmonies of the heart.
How is it thus that worlds are severed
so that new ones may emerge.
Traffic of humans and ducks
by the water
filling, bulging the buds
hanging in strings,
pearls
off branches of willows
weeping for friends long unseen
and lovers unlived.
Smiles from strangers
and laughs at the dogs;
life in the air of a city
losing, lost
longing
to leap in the arms of those strangers
and return to admissions of lust.
The surface in shine,
sun and friends there no longer unseen
emerging desire and welling up spring
in traffic down by the water.
I found myself in the love you
would not give me;
like the smallest bird on the branch
which only sings its vast song
if left unobserved.
Spring in the Bud,
Scent in the Flower,
Song in the Bird,
the Leaf and the Flower.
Spirits in Spring
new Life in between
transitions, the middle,
transforming unseen.
Spring in the Bud,
Scent in the Flower,
Song in the Bird,
the Leaf and the Flower.
Deeper still
(snakes shedding their skin)
restricted, no longer
existence through spring
expansion demanding from
(inward to outward)
the self,
my-self,
your-self,
breadth it-self.
Childlike, I fear
the unknown
ubiquitous vastness;
all the knowledge not known
all the prior unfelt
all the felt unseen
no longer unseen.
The arms of my fear cradle me
surrendered
to swelling,
(it all starts from the base)
free in the fire that burns in that base
which life begins and existence contains,
raising the world, vision and might
child to child, the cycle passed through
forces prior unfelt
now felt unseen
no longer unseen.
How may reality turn so palpable?
How may it have been not so before?
How may we live through it all
expanding in spirit,
bathing in light,
like nature in spring
existence by fire so bright
permitting it swell past fear’s shell
wound ’round it so tight?
We walk and
we talk and
we cycle and
we flock
after months where we rested and
we waited and
we laid and
we missed.
Suddenly emerge and
we gather and
we bud;
ready to embrace and
to kiss one another and
to dance in the day and
in the night.
Forth with all the color and
the light and
coming thunder as
our hearts of love forgotten
to the early rays besotten
lustily we offer.
Notes From Afar 