For Sky

 For Sky

The seasons shift

an angry tempest rages against a shore

open shutters permit the sound of rain

there are roses on a well-traveled sidewalk

long silk curtains

are light blue and the sky is granite gray

the air is cold and now

the seagulls have flown

we will count the miles ahead

after the storm

but nothing splendid is forgotten

as you are reinvented once again

somewhere on the wind

somewhere beyond

the mirror and the sky

invisible but forever in the heart

On the outer edge

 on the outer edge there is a beam of light shining in on the shoreline

of the mind

its corridors are lined with concrete

and obsidian veins

there is a walkway leading to surgical rooms

where they work on flowers and the lilies are singing

there is eternity in the backyard

and it is just the right time for a frost

milk honey and saliva oozes from the trees

I stand small next to them

I stand hunted in the forest

where the black doves carol

I am grateful for the summer

for the exploding sky

for the riddle of every moment

and the daylight escaping our grasp

the air more rich than caviar

the tungsten sparkle on your lips

our bodies covered in delicate moss

a mariner giving his famous speech about navigating time

the stars kissing

and the lacquered faces as if on old postcards

because history is impenetrable except for in dreams

Aujourd'hui (2014)

Every day the sun falls
lost yet another time.
Small, medium, large
the size of dreams.
We are castaways
on a stolen yacht.
Every day the journey
moves on,
every word ever spoken
as permanent as steam
rising on an ocean
sometimes as lost as a ship
sunk at the bottom.
Islands take us
to your destinations.
Fragrances, we shall always
cherish your meanings.
Come as you are.
This world is igniting
beneath our feet.
Feel its hunger and its thirst.

Automatic Dictation

                                 I
As the gastropods pulsate
in the cool air under the green moonlight
the scenery is aglow
as if with foreign objects painted with chalk
it is rumored that in the faraway magellanic clouds lived a princess
 who gave birth to many calves
she later became a bird
and although birds are numerous in this part of the universe this particular bird was eccentric as it collected  many handmade dolls, including rain dolls and painted vegetables

                                   II
it is advisable to count as far as one can count and never stop
for if you stop you could catch a cold
and there are many kinds of colds
some of which have caused individuals to become derelict
there are sheep in the highlands that know many secrets
they can attest to the power of counting to infinity
the blood of humankind courses with deep instincts and mystery
not all of them can be enumerated in words
and it is wise to leave them unaccounted for
as deep as the snow goes the soul is yet further a voyeur
volatile and inviolate
in the service of my gods
I explain this begrudgingly
there is neither wit nor charm in fortuitousness
unless it is accompanied by gold
through the prisms of time
may ye not be a prisoner to sorrow
I grieve for the monsters and the saints among men
omen is not far from amen oh men
may ye rise to the Common wealth of ye gods.
amen.

Exceptional News

an emblem the sky
clouds appear written like pages torn from a newspaper
as we are born torn into life
famous tragedies played out a musical
the theater of the macabre
and various elements assembled
 like the illusion of reason
a still life which appears to be laughing
some unfortunate goodbyes
a manuscript on a shelf
which is the book
you had always read from
but never knew about
on steps disappearing into preminent vapors
the cattle come
but you set them at ease
with a few dollar bills
and some final sayings
the sky is filled with skies
and yet the rain falling down is innocent
another last goodbye before the paper leaves turn to gold
in this mud heap of honey
in this confectioner's grave

Untitled

Succulent is the night in its warm colors

I have dreamed of forever before

The Earth may only stand for one more minute

But inside of that we can escape

Ornate is the mirror through which we travel

Like silver tides against our waist

My heart is a diamond waiting to explode

Take me to your crystal landscape

There in the lost city

I will compose a letter to my former self

and sign it as an anonymous friend

And the many days spent thereafter

will be on a coast of love

in the most literal sense

collecting strange plants and rare species

And there will be afternoon travelers but none who will last very long

Letter to St. Francis

In my mind I am always frightened by dogs, but in practice I haven't the slightest reservation. I could become a nun and lose myself in the fascination of flowers and mange, but I can never will myself through the discipline.

The nicotine odor of your ghost always leaves me disoriented. I have lived in many houses since your departure. I now stand in the last isle of a market where the sun has been on sale for 8 days.

I shall write again when I have more time. Until then, let all the glass houses implode into blue smoke and incense.