Alters Shine

I felt the bone chilling emptiness, something like  numbness,

                                Heaven can wait,

You had not come home and I knew,

                                And a band of angels wrapped up in my heart,

You were not coming home again.

                                Will take me through the lonely night

After much searching for you the sergeant said

                                Through the cold of the day

Whoever had been driving your car was a victim of a homicide,

                                And I know I know,

                                Heaven can wait,

And the sergeant in LA said, was he an athlete?

                                And all I got is time until the end of time,

And the sergeant in LA said, was his designed ring silver?

                                And the melody’s gonna make me fly

And the sergeant in La said, was he tan?

                                Without pain, without tears,

And the sergeant in LA said: well, maybe you better come down

                                And I know that I been released

And I went down to the LA morgue at USC medical center

                                But I don’t know to where

At the end of a long, white hall, maybe 60 feet, a silver gurney,

                                And nobody’s gonna tell me now

Someone was lying with a white sheet pulled shoulder height,

                                And I don’t really care

And I walked what seemed to be the last walk I would ever want to walk,

                                Oh no, no

Until I could see your handsome face, facing up without sight -

with a tiny trickle of blood someone had forgotten at the crevice of your lip

                                I got a ticket to paradise, never gonna let it slip away,

I walked forward the last five feet and saw a ball of white light from your

body hit my chest                ,                                              

I got a ticket to paradise, never gonna let it slip away

All anxiety left, all bewilderment, all tension and pain dissipated

                                I got a ticket to paradise, if I had it any sooner you know,

I wiped the trickle of blood from the left crevice of your lip

                                You know I never would have run away from my home,

I sensed the compassion of the medical people around me, standing back;

                                Heaven can wait,

Their kindness made me feel like a visiting angel that had completed something,

                                And all I got is time until the end of time,

And upstairs, I signed your official death certificate that said “gunshot wound

to the head,” and I accepted with love all that you could give, your final gift of light –

                                And I won’t look back, I won’t look back -

                                Let the alters shine,

Let the alters shine.

Tree Poem

When I saw the paintings of Emily Carr,

I felt like I was up in the big sycamore,

Hiding from my mother’s calling voice,

And eleven again.

The wind that swept through the painting,

And myself were one in the same.

The adolescent passion fulfills itself,

Through nature and all its permutations,

And burns into memory like blood.

Tree Poem

When I saw the paintings of Emily Carr,

I felt like I was up in the big sycamore,

Hiding from my mother calling voice,

And eleven again.

The wind that swept through the painting,

And myself were one in the same.

The adolescent passion fulfills itself,

Through nature and all its permutations,

And burns into memory like blood.

(a quatern) The Making

 

Cars whisking, airplanes, hummingbirds,

The sounds of the day murmur,

Behind my work in terse banter,

Each singling out their purring,

I write blankly from memory,

Cars whisking, airplanes, hummingbirds,

On a white canvas of fragrance,

And semblances in categories,

Of song, movement and design, now;

Arranged on the page or not,

Cars whisking, airplanes, hummingbirds,

Momentarily caught in space,

For some time to lapse; hover there,

For those who want to look or read,

Of an experience beyond -

Cars whisking, airplanes, hummingbirds.

Floating

He strapped the blue balloon

To his shirt through a button hole,

Put on his mask, and slashed

The rope to the heavy anchor.

He floated up and over for days,

Viewing the world as design,

Colors, shapes and weather,

Before he reluctantly, sadly

Leaf-silent to the waiting earth.

When Love Goes Wrong

When love goes wrong

People put it to song

Like: What’s love got to do with it,

Or:  Love is just a four letter word.

About love I tend to like Bob Dylan,

Tangled up in blue or – lost in

Visions of Johanna.

Or Leonard Cohen singing

I’m your man.

Love holds multiple meanings,

For each person.

As long as you can work your life

Through love, then I guess

You’ll be all right.

Odilon Redon

The vague transitions of color

Your crisp edge, then disappeared -

Into pinks and oranges, fogged.

The outline of blue’s flowers -

Trace around the painting’s edge.

Love’s arms protect and warm,

Imagination.

Your use of the patterns like

A beautiful thought of all nature’s

textures, a combined effusion.

The overt standing of the sturdy,

White vase, it’s offering:

The magic of color arranged.

A color poem for the eye.

White Vase With Flowers, 1916

Milk as the Metaphore

Because milk is our first sustenance

On this earth place.

Because we are human beings and we

crave immunity from our mother’s breast.

Because milk is white and liquid and warm.

Because it contains the lock on our psyche.

Because it is like water and flows from

the female rock of pure giving and strength.

Because we look up and see our first face.

Because we seek everything through the

mother.

Because we weep and are comforted.

Because we are defenseless and mute.

Because we acquire strength to stand

And hear the beat of the heart -

Drawing us to the fight.   

Michigan Nights

Lucky people waiting for Friday -

To come and make them smile, giddy.

Down the highway, past the pear orchard,

Let’s go fishing! Get your tackle -

Fresh-fried large and small mouth

Bass,

Maybe a delicious crappie or two,

Brown and crispy,

At the local, bring-your kids, bar-restaurant,

On the other side of the silent lake.

You can row there in the evening.

Water like deep, navy-blue velvet –

Waving the lights on the surface – softly -

With each heavy, oar-creaking stroke -

Meditating on your way to fish heaven.

Connection

If I think of him,

Do his worlds stop and feel,

Blank intuition,

Invisible quick sensing,

Pausing, looking, windward gaze.