An Evening In the Village

Things have been tense.

But, it is quiet,

For the moment.

As you are going about

Your evening

After supper,

Before your prayers,

Suddenly

Staccato bullets fill the air
Splintering holes appear
In the walls
Dishes shatter on your table
Glass falls away from your windows.
Quicker than a flash of terrible light
Everyday illusions are gone.

Your family!

A jagged jungle
cacophony of screams!

Tangles of arms and legs

Dive for the floor,

Cower under beds and chairs.

Fear sucks the warmth

From your body.

Everything contracts

To the pupils in your eyes.

You barely notice the

Harsh rasping of your own breath,

The motor-race

Of your vulnerable heart.

The world suddenly shakes

With a satanic roar.

The blackest, foulest smoke in the world

Fills all space;

And when it clears,

Your wife is a scrap of bloody dress.

Your children are torn to death.

Your home is a hole in the dark ground.

You are lost to the howling winds...

Because they are fighting

Over which side has the right

To call your city,

Your street,

Your life

Theirs.

Desert Trek

(Yucca At Twilight)

Warm radiance

brings comfort.

Expanse of clear

yellow light

smelling of

distant smoke

lifts me up.

I walk my

road surely,

evenly,

a small smile

on my ageing face.

Tawny earth

passive,

not giving,

not taking,

allowing.

sage breathes

shelters the meek

mute lizard,

quivering rabbit.

Onward, then

to the great rocks.

The barren mystery,

the diamond of the heart,

timeless, slow dance

of the dervish creosote.

Surely, I walk the road

paved with earth memory,

one hand and foot

striding forward,

the other side

poised to follow.

Bring me to the plateau.

Show me huge, turquoise skies,

voluptuous and pure.

In afternoons, in meager

flickering shade

of cottonwood trees

I will rest.

In my body

I will drink elemental wine.

I will sleep

with an arm over my eyes

until sainted winds

kiss my lips and cheek

and I arise.

Surely, walk again

the architecture of God

resounds with time

a million tales and poems

inviting me

to give my stony self

and become,

become,

and wander no more.

(This poem republished from All Poetry)

Cologne

(Petrichor)

My cologne

smells of

dried gum

automobile exhaust

and wet asphalt

clipped grass

jasmine and rosemary

candywrappers

pigeon feathers

and cigarettes.

Inhale the city's

essence

and I'm there

Even though you

launder that shirt

you lent me

even though you

scrub your sheets

burn cleansing sage

in your room

and sprinkle vinegar

on the cooled tiles,

Our linkup can't be broken

not by soap

or prayers, not by rituals

not even by death

Not even by exploding suns.

Suspended in the air

my cologne will linger

recalling you

to the streets

and you will find yourself

staring out of your window

trying to pick me out

of the indifferent crowd.

My cologne,

swirling pungent and sweet

will hold my place;

it will follow into your dreams

you will reach for my hand

in your sleep

I know you will.

Poem: Text Message

(Self-portrait In Brittlebush)

iamm txtng thisa
messge 2 u
becsuae whn I trry
2 tlak 2 u
u donnt nundrstand me
attal.

Poem: Gray

(Hail-storm Over Pyramid Lake)

Gray
dampens emotions down
makes a quiet sound
Like ice freezing underground.

Gray
as Minerva’s clear eye
unemotional, outside
a cool assessor, silent pride.

Gray
where some go to hide away.
Keep your distance on the day
I’m wearing clothes of gray.

Gray
Like Dorothy’s Kansas plain
simple, flat and without pain
but also, like the twister’s mien.

Poem: Promise

(A Glad Procession Of Trees, San Jose)

I know that when you look
out your window
everything looks dark

but, I promise you
dawn is coming.

See how it pales
at the knifeline horizon¦
soon sun will rise in the east.

Soon we can leave our rooms
of uneasy sleep
and dusty lightbulb smell.

I’ll show you a
rose and golden morning

Then we’ll go walking again
in the cool rising of light,
together, our hair shining like haloes.

And won’t it be fine
to make plans again and laugh.
It’s not so far off after all.

I’ll give you
all the rainbows you need
but don’t give up before you see

The rising of the mists
on a brand new day.

Poem: Fountain

(Crashing Wave, Pyramid Lake, Nevada)

If you would

Soften diamonds,

Send up a spray into sunlight,

Falling into joyful pools,

Rippling to the edge of forever,

You might slip under and, swimming

Become part of the movement and sound...

... Up ahead is the final goal

Adoration, as you are divided

Into the radiant multiverse...

You’d be there.

Poem: The Poverty Of Men

We need all the love

in the world

And must pretend

we need nothing.

We need a mother’s

Warm arms to hold us

so tightly

and are told “no”

we must not care.

Holding back is

a way of life

until the spaces

shrink

into a cramp

Pain leaps out, rage

pours into the streets

guns blaze and wars

begin again.

The poverty of men

the calf tied for slaughter

watching from glassy  eyes

options diminishing, gone

the ropes pull tighter.

What would it take

For poverty to grow

Into riches?

A fall into the river?

A night of drumming?

To shed cocoons at last?

Man,

look into your damaged heart

the blood leaks out

trickles down a starched shirt.

Here it is! The final moment!

But your lips

are still tightly pressed together

in a murmur of pride. denial

even as you see your sons

 run from you

with sword in hand

Their saddened dreams

singing your funeral songs.