Undertide

Of waters dark and deep
I lead and i entreat
You to partake

Of willows whipping fleet
You follow and repeat
Without seeing yourself

Of castaway culling
Into bittersweet
The world i led you
You may not leave

A world to wake to

Such a rain
Like the outpour of words
Like the wringing of worlds
On a morning so early
As to suggest the world anew
Changed by dreams of so many
Believers and wanderers

Neon clouds and others

Neon clouds
Restless clouds
Sucked dry of all their color
Only electric
ashen mounds
To call my home
My mother

A moment to burn, matrí
A moment for bright, bright yearn
When will it be my turn, matrí?
What have i left to learn?

Eyes have washed with tears
For so many moments
Of pure harmony
Never shared
Only seen

When will you tear the veil
Tween hand and hold
And let touch
The things
Of beauty


Where were you when
The choices divided
Without me
Where have you been?
Where was i
By the time growth
Would not satisfy?
Where am i?


Can a man break the ties
which tether weather
To our lives
To swell, flow, quell
In circular spell

Can man calculate the span
His person might fan
If given the purest opportunity?
Would that subject him to
Impunity?

Can i forget what beget
From a life led
In manner best
But yet brewed
The Inevitable Regret
As befits
The imperfect man?


Baby wants to know
Baby always wants to know
And never again will he want as much as now
So give him everything you can

The Artist at the End of Time

Look me play
Legs dangling over out
Listen the dark
Listening itself away
Strip it down
To the strips streaming
Out of sight

Sits the poet
At the end of time
Pen storming
Life forming
Sits him wading
Cosmic brine

I might have
Wrote a change in world
You might have
Listened my omens
But it's stripped now
To strips reeling
Gone

An artist sits
At the end of the world
What more?
What for?
Words pour, now
Out his eyes and mouth
As he too withers

Request a night

Ripple me a storm, father
Of still form fountain
And electric youth
Weave me a cloud, father
Sew the seams with heaven
Leave the soul, cool and leaven

Robe the evening
So all is suspend
And only up
It only bends

Play the stars out
With plucks of pure
So strong and soft
So strong and cure

Tie it with a knot, father
One ground on which
Cool and calm sits
Pin it for me, father
With nothing more than brooch
Of a silver-glimmer youth

Poem

A single puppet-pull
A tug from beyond
Right through my center
A bucket draws the well
And all of in swell

Up, a hand, so invoked to be
A bearer of flow
To wellspring

Out, a hand, to sting the page
With corpulent venom
Without sage

Channel brewing with sparking
Wracking jolt
Transmutions into light

And single straight pull
Tugs out the beyond
Cork pops out the outside
Pouring fills the well
All is well

I'm In My Room Alone

Such desperate dissonance
Prowls in my heart's shadow
And there, somewhere in the mechanics
Of a twinge-torn, singe-worn
Core of passion
A spear of precision

And here, somewhere in the tempered alloys
Of the distinct and of what masterful maelstroms allow

desperate plays separate
In an infinite attempt
To veil and vanish
The feline zeal
Kneading the strings in my chest
Making needing
Of one god-gifted
Blessed

Brother

Ode to a journey
An intertwine
Rode throughout
The sum of time
For me
Forgive my passing
On the extremes
What with the nonchalant Supposition that these words praise
Mere awe
Oh, the ohs to over bear
To open olfactors
Till dripping acloy
The ohs belong alone
To me
---
Dirge to the bond
A camaraderie
Ever known
Ever been
And to ever be
A laughing minor
Without any mort
Without contort
Outside of the terrible touch
Of truth
Truth be told
addages clip me
An old man mixing
My spit and blood
With the mud
---
What's he
To me
Me
The lost of dreams
What's a question
What's a druther
To a brother

Moss

A little meddling of lichen
Does fit my eye
In an outside lot forgotten
Over-rotten
But strange in that
I know the trees as young as I
By our respective countings
Yet moss it mats
To mingle that
Which once was clear of climbings
With the wisdom
Of the fog at morning