Spera solis, sol
The ghost that circles our borders,
The glory rolling on our horizons.
The lord of brilliance
To whom we dance and bow.
We follow and weave
Amongst his messengers of shadow,
His pillars of light.
Day is woven thereby
And life is shaped,
Ordered in waves of delight,
The wake from his wheels.
The red bull of morning
Roaring with the dawn.
Boat of heaven, chariot of fire,
Wagon of deliverance.
To him we turn our heads,
To him we bow.
Sustained and warmed
We are pulled up,
Flower, fruit and wither
Under his round sight.
A map of heaven,
An intimation of beyond,
Unfathomable, a cipher,
A sign, a blaze.
Spera martis, mars
Here he is –
Certain gaze,
Certain smile.
All the girls (despite themselves)
Twist their hair, bite their lip.
Bright eyed amongst themselves
With giggled whisper,
(But they will never, ever tell
Of those desires that are so deep hid).
They will all, we will all,
Trail after him
Blaming ourselves for every scar,
Every wound, every bruise.
Who cannot match up to such as he,
So sure he is
Of justice and victory,
So fierce and radiant.
We have become the red planet,
Enslaved by bold and noble action,
Unwilling to reflect,
But act, react.
Conversations with Invisible Friends (14)
Posted in Uncategorized, tagged art, commentaries, comments, conversations, language, matter, Poetry, thought on June 17, 2014| Leave a Comment »
CONVERSATIONS 14
HOW EASY
Wonderful wonderful
how easy a cat will purr
how easy a flower will open
and scatter
how easy a smile
how easy a hand
how easy a good word
leads the way
becoming a vast flock
of joyous song and seeing.
—
VERBAL WARNING
Word to word
invisible tugged ties,
chains golden from tongue to ear,
a ripple of bells, a chime, tinkled river,
mind stream quenching thirst,
a million million reflections
showing nothing much of anything,
just how it is.
—
SEDIMENT
In the deepest oceans
Are the bones of all
That have ever lived.
A sediment free of sentiment,
World shaping pressure
Of was-ness turning into is-ness.
—
GRACE
Dressed ghosts, borrowed rags.
Why so hungry always? Why so?
As if bereft. As if supported.
As if punishment. As if reward.
As if a test.
Interpret this.
Pain and beauty.
Edges, boundaries, limits.
A dance to slow music.
If we can be but elegant, somehow,
so the universe turns toward us
(as we turn toward its ever open eyes),
weave a new way, gentle, strong,
accepting, melting, acquiescing.
Grace, it would be.
Perhaps reason enough.
—
RED SHIFT
Heat haze.
A shimmering road.
All the colours shifting towards evening.
A sharp sound rumbles into deep distance.
An elucidation of edges.
A smudge of vast moments.
Thought storm, tranquil dreaming.
Your voice (somehow) in my head (somehow).
Via the heart of things,
we ricochet amazed
through crystalline spheres.
—
HOW ELSE
A tissue of lives.
Connective, connected surfaces.
A fine tracing of whorls and ridges,
Whispering alphabets
Attempting an understanding,
Perhaps a cataloging,
An exposition of position.
A thin, sky thin, elucidation
A slender, tender hinting thing.
Not quite dream, not quite wish,
Nor remembering, nor forgetting.
This placental sustaining,
Held suspended,
Amniotic day,
Bridged away from pain.
Else we slip unseen,
Or so we conceive it,
Mouthing wept whys
Into blank cold nights.
—
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