Sunday, November 30, 2014

sunshine . . . .

i had closed the doors
of the chambers of my world
to sunshine, long ago
and the blood
had frozen in my veins.
but this morning
i sat with you in the sunshine
and watched together,
the glimmer of pine needles
in the nearby woods
an the glare of mountain snows
in the distance.
and gently
strangely
i felt it thaw -
my blood . . . .
and in the darkness of silence
i heard
a flickering
pulse.




Friday, November 28, 2014

the dinner . . .

she was very fond of fishing
this girl that i loved
so one day i bought a couple of fishing rods
hired a boat
and took her fishing in the lake.

it was a beautiful day
and i was so moved
by the water and the sky
and the distant shore, that
wrenching out my heart
i gave it to her.

she took it
smiled,
and said, "thanks"
then
dropped it into the tin
containing the bait.

when the worms were all finished
and no fish had been caught
she stuck my heart
to her hook
and threw the line, saying,
"this is better bait than
worms".

and sure enough
she caught a great big fish.

we returned.

she cooked the fish
and invited me to dinner.

i went
but unfortunately
i did not have the heart
to dine with her.

people . . . .

i watch them go by
in cars and on scooters.

people.

i have no need
of cars and scooters
for i
am not people.

i
am the chant of faceless lamas
in malodorous monasteries
the music
of smoke rising from
discarded cigarette butts
the howl of a haunted wolf
on a windblown night
the whisper
of an unseen waterfall
somewhere
in the hills, and at times
the fury of earthquakes
and tornadoes and tidal waves
all combined.

i can never be
people
i tried once
and the girl in my arms withered
and became
dust, in my embrace.

i picked up the remnants of her bones
and built a room
and hung her skull
on the doorframe.

people.
they pass me by.
they know the story of the skull
on my doorframe.
they read it in my eyes
and recoil.

i cannot blame them.

who would stand
in the path of a volcano ?