Land

I float silently down the river, sideways in a plastic boat.  My heart is heavy, voice silent, mind on mute.  All this talk of Creation and how we relate to it propels me to this wilderness to spend some time alone.  Will the rocks cry out, or the trees clap their hands?  Will the storm ripped trunks of leafless trees bow low to the coming of Creator?  I do not mourn when I see a fallen limb, or grieve at the barren wasteland or factory smoke.  But I do cringe at the appearance of a knotted tree, necklaced in a bright red sign.  KEEP OFF! It shouts in bold disgrace.  I wonder, did this tree go to the market to buy a sign? I never noticed these signs before, the other times I drifted by this island.  All around are posted these warning signs.  Creation is off limits.  This island is owned by signed deed, and I am not allowed.  Birds are no readers, and they make their nests in the trees, and flock to boughs to sing.  Trash from the river on a rainy day mingles with the branches, a marriage of inorganic and organic, to herald each day.  It to has found a place on Ash Island.  But I, I have been denied.  So I keep drifting by.  The moon, in the sky, is unreachable to me.  I thank God that it does not have a keep off sign.  Maybe it was created to make the point that not everything can be conquered and claimed. I found solice in this thought--a piece of virgin land, unadulterated and pure.  But it lasted but a second as black and white images flashed into my mind.  Yes, I seem to remember now, during the Cold War when we landed on the moon and put into the dust an American flag.  A sign of victory?  A badge to man's conquering ability?  Not a sign that says Keep Off I hope...

hello Dream

hello dream weaver
let's shroud another one
in silky lace
in hope and vision
and ethereal peace
hello dream keeper
you deceive me
yet you move me on
if i did not have you
i could not love
i could not know
and be known
dream weaver
wrap another one
a special gift
even if it is never so
i want to believe
in the goodness of humanity
in the beauty of my brother
and the kindred spirit of my sister
dream, dream on
invite and shroud another one

synaptic biography

You are the same to me
locked in a memory
residue of past harmony
lingering on in synapses of my mind
you are not the same
though time, shrouded in mystical haze
tells me the truth that i hate to believe
that you have moved on
that you are not the same
i am a keeper of your history
locked into biological matter
i remember you
not as who you were
or who you might have been
but how i experienced you
and how you kept me back
and pushed me forward
how you held my dreams at arms length
you'd grabbed them, mocked me
playfully held them out as if they were an object to scorn
and then i knew, they were my truths
by the way i reacted so viciously
you exist, and yet you don't
some of you has gone
physically, spiritually, literally
but part of you will always remain
you are a part of me
dormant
your life, and who you were to me,
lingers on, in synaptic caverns of my mind
my blood will filter you out
as unrepentant social structure
keeps me bordering on the precipice of insane thought
i am free of you
when i choose to be
not angry
yet acutely aware
and i am no longer bound, you see,
though i am a part of your walking, biological history

When Cedars Speak

Cedars talk to me
as sweet, fragrant oils rise
from storm ripped trunks

Ocean waves wash me clean
rhythm of repetition, monastically
echoing life in caverns of my mind

Eagle wings watch over me
on thermals of clear sky days
telling me that I am not alone

Wolf howl spirit
present in the wooded forest
footprints on the wave tossed sand

Time spent in nature
revitalizes me, and helps me to return
to the rhythm of my own heartbeat

the rhythm of my own land

Kinsman Redeemer

Lie down next to me
   and bushel of barley wheat
     I'll give you in the morning
to proclaim that we've done nothing here
    only sharing of dreams
       not purposeful intimacy
whisper your sweet requests
    fine tapestry of dreamer's wake
       and upon this evening twilight's witness
    I will profess my dire need
       to know you and be known by you
But first there must be marriage vows
   between us two, in open court
      where witness bare and hold us up
   when we ourselves can steady not
so up you go, sweet girl of mine
    untouched, uncovered in the night
take this barley--enough for two
    and let me see what I can do
          to make you mine
    oh woman, from a distant land
And if my kinsman takes you not
   for he is the rightful man in line
then I will take you to myself
    as we forever intertwine
my heart to yours, oh foreign girl
    you shall not go without a place
your name is mine, my soul is thine
two lives now one under heaven's sky