The Sorrowjoy
The Singing State
There is a state of being,
A place I go to,
And where I would remain;
The singing state.
The ch'i is bigger and it feels like home,
The everything is through me;
I am vessel, flute, the conduit,
The sorrowjoy.
I can close my eyes and it comes,
I can loose my grip and slip,
My soul can visit other souls and I can swell
Down deep and cry.
When you clap it sounds like thunder
The way a storm feels; frightening and exhilarating.
Did you know you are clapping for you?
And for love and for celebrating
And for the flow? Ok ok. But its true. You
And me we are little kids playing in the fields
And big kids making love
And old kids dying and reaching out
And in and towards what we are all longing for -
The spaces between now and the dream and
Each other
The Bad Blood And The Rose
My ache from knowing you. My skin. My sorrow from the year of
Guilt. My knees and my ass and my bruises and the doing and the
Undoing. Swans all took off at once moving air over the river. My
Mouth was tied up like a parcel. My loose shoulder, my mothers hands
I see in mine. Skinny little moon and a traffic jam. I could see into you
Like an xray but I couldn't read your blood. 'Cause you spun me right
Round. Yeah right round till I was facing, I guess, a bad angle and the
Arrow hit. Today an old friend brought me a rose from his swedish
Garden and the goodness lit up like the fourth of july. Everything
Switches all the time. Thank G-d for the changes. Thank G-d for the
Pain. The bad blood and the rose. They all mix together. A river. A river
For the swans to leave behind.
The Homeopath
The homeopath rubbed my feet and my head
And in her broken english told me I was sad.
She held my neck suspended
As if she was water
And I was a leaf,
And the stillness brought on my tears like a fever;
Tears for all that had gone and all that would be,
Tears for all the searching,
Tears for the wooden house by the sea that I see
But to which there is no path,
Tears for the motherlove.
And they trickled down the sides of my cheeks
Like tiny streams into my ears, forming pools.
I wanted her to stay there forever letting me be weak.
But tonight I will get up and sing my heart out
To ten thousand people.
How funny that that makes me seem strong
When I do it out of need;
The need to feel. Whole. To surrender;
And to free the passion.
I think in the end that is what we all want.
And at the end of the day
When we are tired,
To be a leaf floating on water;
Someone to hold us while we cry.
Looking For Home
I keep going back,
As if I am looking for something I have lost;
Back to the motherland, sisterland, fatherland,
Back to the beacon, the breast,
The smell and taste of the breeze,
And the singing of the rain.
I keep going back,
And wondering why I don't fit in when i'm there.
Or anywhere.
Other people sit stiller than i, I suspect.
They get on with life, they build something.
But I drift
Tidal. Hormonal.
In and out and sometimes like a hurricane -
Way up beyond the beach
And the line of palm trees to the houses
Way beyond reason,
Looking for home.
The Poison
I have done it I have drunk the poison and your beautiful soul is no
Longer mine. I have altered your heart, you don't know it but it's left
On my skin like jellyfish stings, my nipples crimsom from the pain and
My lungs weak. And everyday I squeeze lemons over the welts and
I think about how to die. To burn out the lies. There is no solace and
Why should there be? There is no refuge and no halfway house. The
World outside has taken on a dullness and my mind is a heap of rubble.
Darling I didn't call you that enough. I was so fucking self sufficient.
The world is smaller the children in the park are sweeter and I am
Older than i've ever been. "thin as your consience," my grandfather
Used to say when slicing the bread with a half smile. Mine was thin
As rice paper but now I could not digest the wheat and the yeast;
It would stick in my throat and kill me maybe that is the answer.
Ode To My Grandparents
Grandpa comes across the lawn, a blackened citrus in each hand. Shaky.
Squalls today. Rain shattering and slamming till it gushes under the
Cedar door. Grams put a towel down. They talk of trusty, their old
Yellow dog. They talk of the time grandpa had to ride his bicycle all
Along harbour road to give blood to cousin hutchings and how they
Gave him two shots of brandy. They talk of airplanes landing in the
Snow. In the morning before it rains the blue canvas seat cushions on
The porch are warm. There are echoes on the phone line. Grandpa burns
Cedar every night. If you go outside you can smell it better. There used
To be a ladder up to the roof. Grandpa keeps trying to find a piece of
Glass to fix that broken pane. He tells me the beans are ready to be
Picked. Too choppy to row. Grams tries to talk about jesus. In the
Evening I fill a red hot water bottle and a blue one. I sleep on the edge
Of the bed. Granpa listens to the new turned up loud. His legs bent
Like two pipes thin as my forearms. Late at night if you turn the lights
On quickly in the kitchen you see the roaches run into the cracks.
Grams says its ok to live with a man before you marry him. Then she
Says it isn't. I put on her long pink raincoat and skip and run against
The wind in the dark to the ferry dock. He'll pick her a rose or an
Orchid from the garden. He shows me how to shut the door without
Making a sound. Soon the freesias will spread out all over the lawn.
Soon the loquats will come. I bail out the rowboat. Grams is slipping
Me a twenty dollar bill. Tells me to buy myself something. The tanks
Must be overflowing by now. I caught a tree frog on the living room
Rug. Came in on the firewood. Woke up. Grams says her breasts hurt
From the shingles. She lets them hang. I read poems in the middle
Room at night. In the morning when I take them their oranges they're
Lost in the blankets
You Moved Like An Animal
The past is in the narrow shadows beneath storefronts and trees and
The sun that will come cannot light the gullies where you lie. In me.
Still. The deep down voice lulling me every time. So cool. You are. But.
I suspect that really the thunder booms in your chest. I want. To. Put
My ear to your mouth. I want the broken pieces and the bitter taste.
Your skin was brown and smooth and you moved like an animal -
Some kind of deer or springbok. Ephemeral as pan. I could feel the
Switch in me. I could gauge the fall and the bruising and the bursting
Of my. Suddenly tender heart. Tender. Hooks. Tin.der.sticks. I turned.
And the road that led me away was paved with crushed pink coral.
Ahead of me it sparkled in the sun. I picked up speed. A train bound
For glory. But. I admit, I dropped some bread crumbs as I ran.
Sucking Out The Sting
So now the change and the slipping out. Who predicts the overflow?
She crashed and the sofa was warm and her arms fell asleep. Baby doll
Pink and rosy, she drew up her knees, and her hair fell against his
Cheek. The rules were gone. The stereo. The music flew out the window
Like a swallow before he spoke and the trucks so noisy. Remember the
Oil refinery in the night while we drove and drove? Remember the
Bunny in the back of the car? Do you see pictures when you come?
The icicles on the trees made it look like fairyland. And once he found
A raccoon by the side of the road. Stopped in the cold and dug it
A grave. In the middle of the night he would find her in the sheets,
Unwrap her like a parcel. Sometimes the tv light glowed under the
Stars; they watched it on the roof in summer. Under blankets. He cried
From time to time, sucking out the sting. The past is our sweetness and
Our bitterness, she thought. And now, make a wish little star; the boy
Has outgrown me and the passion long buried was never understood.
Six Years Behind
I'm behind my time
6 years to be precise
I lost them in a triangle
In providence
I was stung by a thousand bees
I had bruises on my lips
From the kisses and the lies
So that now, you see,
I'm younger than I ought to be.
So I sing
I sing to get on with it
I sing to stay afloat
I float to stay free
I do not commit so that I can keep dreaming,
And I dream so that the possibilities remain
Perfect.
Please Please You
Drink in the sunshine and the hue
You shine shinier than all of them, you always have.
I want to dig you out like a big diamond from the dirt,
Polish you up so even you can see the brightness.
There is no quiz. The headmaster's gone.
Take off your blindfold and let your summer through,
Stand by the mirror and
Untwist your distorted gaze,
Fuck what others mothers think
Take off your widow's veil and go dance
With the wolves or the pretty boys.
You were always the smartest
So you should know
The day is waiting,
You are worthy and you deserve some cake.
Banana fana fo fana
Please please you
And let me remind you
That of all the people in the world
Yes,
You are the one I would save.
Real Is My Only Real Friend
The pain I feel from losing you is crawling in my skin
The smell of you is like a ghost.
It's better that you left 'cause I could never get enough;
I was too hungry, and too friendly,
And you know what they say.
But you made me feel again
You made me feel
Again you made me
Feel again
And real is my only real friend.
Murmur
In the night I am anybody in my bed in a bus in america. Drifting out
Over starry blackened highway. My little mind. I am holding onto
Youth a little too tightly, i've noticed. Fear is a faithful dog, running
Beside me, licking my face, wanting to be fed. Can't get loose. Pretty
Boys. Can't settle down, settle in. Berit asked me today what murmur
Means. I couldn't describe it; little sound, a hint. Not quite a whisper.
Winged Messenger
In your abstraction you are losing your way
All flowered up and gorgeous and seductive,
And free.
So free you are almost paralysed.
I wind my way around your soul
And wonder at your delicate wings.
I once climbed a bell tower in italy and felt dizzy like this,
Almost wanting to jump; the unthinkable so delicious.
The message you bring is freedom,
But i, from my earthbound nest, cry out:
"commitment opens the door to life."
I think neither of us is convinced
And both will wander on, for a few years at least;
You soaring and dipping and gossamer,
And me like a winter fox, burrowing deeper.
Prescription Of Dreams
The rocky mountains
Are dusted with icing sugar
And little clouds.
And every time I fly I can see my life like a river,
Like a desert spread out,
Like a city lit up,
Like a song.
And my soul aches
Like tired muscles.
How can it be that I live in the ruins
Of such a bright future?
There are moments of flow,
And there is so much searching.
I long to be lighter, to skip.
The cab driver today was laughing at the traffic
Big hearty laughter.
The woman in the health food store was singing.
The rain was pouring down on broadway.
I went to a dream doctor;
He taught me how to go down
Into the world we create,
And to alter the dream.
He gave me a prescription,
A prescription of dreams.
But I know there is no cure
For desiring desire;
No cure for dreaming itself.
It is chronic and painful,
And no one can tell you how long you've got.
Rain In The Tropics
Rain falls so heavy
It's sexy how the rain falls here;
How it doesn't mind, it takes its time
And it rushes and then the sun comes out
And the greener green and the glistening
And the damp skinlike air on my skin like
Sex after the rain
And the shower off;
I run outside and laugh 'cause its warm, and dance with
Your memory and rain
Again but I dont mind 'cause i'm part of the mountain
And the mountain is the rain and the wet
Wet sun will always again come again again
Respect For The Dead
I saw the photo
Him as a boy with his hand in a candy bag.
You can tell so much from a photograph,
Especially if you know the outcome.
His body looked kind of loose on his bones
In a friendly, unjudgemental way
Like someone you could trust.
I slept in his bed after he died;
A guest in a dead man's bed.
I heard him sigh as I drifted off to sleep.
There is so much respect for the dead,
Are we afraid someone is watching?
The smiling moments captured in photographs,
The shadows forgotten,
The dark moods are stamped out with death,
And the light made brighter by the loss.
The love blows up like a balloon,
Delicate and pink.
I think we make our own hells down here
During our life times -
The penalty for not being true;
The punishment for fear;
We suffer the consequences.
In the end we all float up to the same sky
And there is no division.
We leave some light behind;
A lot or a little;
And some photographs.
Up like a balloon
To the same sky.
At Sea
Out at sea the circle wraps around you and around you till the blue
Is inside and swimming. And the night falls down like a hat. There
Is always sound and always motion and sometimes the whole world
Is shaking. If you have a night watch you are the only one in the
Universe and the smallest. And you are nothing. There is poetry all
Around you and you want to die and to live forever. Silver winged
Flying fish crash land on deck and you find them in the morning,
Little fairies fallen from the sky. There are miles below and miles
Above and miles around but you have never been so calm inside.
Windless days are like another planet; timeless white haze. The sails
Flop and you go nowhere. I always thought - this is the best picnic
Spot ever, and no one ever comes. The cities are so crowded. Like a
Tipped-up seesaw.
In a storm the movie frames flicker. And sometimes freeze. I pray
Those nights. Respect for the fury. Slamming down each wave. And
Cold saltwater spray in your face as you hit. The compass swings glow-
In-the-dark. In the roughest weather you feel almost good. Every part
Of you aware of being. Alive. And you never complain about anything
Again. You are never a primadonna. Are you kidding?
When it clears and you watch the dawn you realise there are only
So many sunrises you will see in your lifetime. So you try to digest
It somehow. And then your watch is over and you fall into your bunk
Just as the sun is peering down your hatch. The rolling is gentle now.
You do not crave land. You're not sure you ever want to rejoin it. The
Meditation is everyday. And you don't want to lose it but you know you
Will again and that you will need to be reminded of this. Of being at sea.
A Simple Grace
Gotta find a peace inside try not to hide from life and what is hard
To swallow hard to taste you got your pain your girlfriend's skipped
Again we all are striving for a simple grace and joy every girl and
Every boy the little child we are inside the pressure of the day slips
By lost for a moment in some reverie some sweet day dream it seems
Like lifetimes pass unseen but you and me we slide between what
Keeps me going I don't know sometimes I think i'll fall below and lose
The breath that ties me to the ground here the blood that binds me
And my tears that are afraid to come
Like Spiders
Like spiders hanging
We are
From the big web of lies
Tree to tree
And glistening
The spinning and the weaving
Growing more intricate and elaborate
Til exhausted
We hang
From our silver threads
Each believing the other is believing
Uneasy though and sad
Side by side
Dangling and hoping for a breeze
Or a breath
To break the lines
And blow us down together
To the earth and truth
And even to our deaths
The Girl
She is so dark and sweet and lonely
And you are so kind,
Is there any way you can resist each other all day?
I almost think I would let you touch her
So long as you remembered me
With some kind of shrine at her altar.
She, i'm sure, tastes of plums,
(do they grow in the mountains of georgia?)
And I know you are fascinated;
Last week you confessed you piggybacked her
Up the harrow road,
And I have seen you dream at night.
I have always wanted to grow
Less like vines,
And more like the poinciana; reaching out and up
And flowering.
Perhaps you need a holiday from the green of my eyes,
And anyway,
From day one my lesson has always been of letting go.
The Bridge
You said you would be the bridge
That hung between the cliffs
Suspended and swaying,
So I stepped out onto you
And I inched my way across.
I had faith and hope till I was in the middle
And I made the mistake of looking down;
The river was a snake,
And I couldn't smell or even imagine
The sweetness of the grass;
Everything was erased and I was swinging
In the arms of fear,
Even though you spoke to me in the wind,
And even though your arms still held me.
If I could only look up, you said,
I would fly with the kestrel,
But I was transfixed.
Why does fear name us for its own?
Why are the depths seductive
And the heights more like a dream than a reality?
Why does love try so hard to contain and define?
The shelter that we seek will keep us
From the boundless sky.
Into The Pink
I walk out into the pink, into the smudge and the dirty air and the
Streets with yellow houses painted perfectly and who knows what
Goes on inside. But everywhere is the myth and I spend all my money
On it. And my soul. I'm a sucker aware of my suckerness; I hang on
Every move, I watch the pretty people. And then I shake it off like a dog
After swimming; I shake and I shake and the drips fly everywhere and
I don't care. And I don't need anything; only the sea. And I feel the bliss
Again. You gotta strip away your skin to feel it sometimes these days.
One day for real I will run away like I want to to a south american
Town and live in wonder. And drink in the lush green and the now,
And the sticky warm air. Some day I will get unhooked and wander
Back to where I left off when I was twelve. Can you follow a sound
Back through time? A melody like a path? Because maybe then I could
Catch a ride on "heart of gold" and find myself in '79, on deck in the
Harbour looking up at the stars. And I could start again from there...
My Body Will Not Be Fooled
My lungs are weakened by sorrow,
Uncertainty tires my kidneys,
And fear constricts my arteries.
My body will not be fooled -
It will bear the brunt of my restlessness,
My resentment and my worry,
And if I can calm my mind and my spirit
I will heal my flesh and blood.
Not a miracle, but a simple law of nature;
Why did we start separating and dividing this continent?
It is a whole.
Since when did our eyes not know our liver?
And our chest not feel anxiety?
Doesn't expectation bring the butterflies?
Flapping and fluttering in the gut?
Since when did the muscles not send thirsty messages
To the mouth?
Since when this civil unrest?
The highways and byways of my capillaries are the fibre optics,
And the brain that rules the kingdom never sleeps.
Ah the good intent of missionaries;
We knew ourselves best
Until they told us how to think and who to pray to,
And what we should believe.
This Is The Colour Of You
All the waves rolling in and over and the shallow sandy shoals clear
To the bottom and where the eel grass grows and the rough winter
Storms churning up the white-caps cold and along the cliff beneath
The reef swirl and the in and out of the tide and the rock pool and the
Glassy calm with sun path to the horizon and the deep deep darker
Out beyond
This is the colour of you.
The Abandon
The dutch girl danced round the fire
Stripping off her clothes,
Her slim brown body catching the fire-glow,
Shouting in italian for everyone to join her.
She threw her knickers to the flames,
She laughed like hyenas;
And maybe we really were repressed like she said
In our deck chairs, with our glasses of wine;
No one moved.
Her spirit was the fire itself - spitting and leaping and swaying in the air
Until the darkness named her for its own and she became enraged.
She pulled at our clothes then, and smashed a window.
She screamed at her man. She scared everyone.
I don't know why it hit me then, but at that moment I knew
That we will never recapture the freedom we were born with;
That we are always curbed by fear.
The journalist who had crashed the party was writing it all down in his
Hungry mind
His eyes popping from excitement.
And I am writing too;
An ode to the girl. An ode to abandon.
And maybe to madness.
Because there was something in me that applauded her.
Something I admired, and knew that I would welcome...
In Your Hands I'd Be A Planet
Hands
Just for a second
In your
Hair;
Watching the hourglass
We hang
Like a bat
Under the big bell
And
Well
Maybe its wrong,
Or maybe it's holy ground
In a church of my own we're perfect together
I recognise you in the stained glass
Soon Alaska
I want to be the one who keeps on walking
But with days alone it's hard to say no.
I want to look back and I did the right thing
Though I want to burn like a cherry flame.
Here over greenland I could be easily kissed.
Here in the back seat
No one would miss me.
Out the window, polar bear fur ice like marble,
Snake of a river.
Soon alaska.
This wasn't who I meant to be
Cracking The Code
Two small birds flew in today and sat on the photographs;
The ones of her father and her husband -
Both gone. (from this world anyway)
I always said the birds were the messengers,
And I am trying to crack the code;
Every day I sit in silence and try to still my mind;
Every day I throw my net to the field of energy
And sometimes I catch glimpses.
They say while you are cutting a tomato think only of that;
While you are walking only walk.
But where does that leave dreaming?
And where would we be without
The lovely stretch of aching and of hope?
Maybe the artist is always just in sight of
But just out of reach of
The divine;
Too in love with the searching and the struggle,
Hooked on the bitter-sweetness of longing, of fucking up
And of looking back.
I am trying to crack the code
But, if the journey is the aim,
I will leave the mystery with the birds
And paint pictures and make songs instead.
Firefly Dreams
The unspoken is pulling at me like a lifeline,
Twisting in my kidneys, making me thirsty,
And there's a rough track leading up from desire
Through my throat to the dirty city.
The music of tree frogs,
The music from the strings that bind you to me;
We are just dangling swaying unfree
Stretched out too far between...
Firefly dreams.
Dreams are dangerous unless you act on them,
Otherwise they fester and hold you prisoner;
Otherwise you might miss the passing of the day,
Piss it away.
I know; I feel the sting,
I feel
I feel the lesson that life brings.
The Amber
The amber is the love
Around my wrist
Around and bound
Your given heart. You.
(picking the one with no insects)
Big vein that carries to my hands
The blood, around my wrist
The circle and the depth
And whole
I love you for light coming through
And for what is caught in time
And for the pain you said was worth it
Crystallised
And the continuation of the heart
Around my wrist
(with no insects)
The one you picked.
The tree cried such beautiful tears
For all the years
The amber
To remind me.
Joy
The fisherman far below me the cliffs my cave house, in the sea comes
And haze, and in the sound of an outboard motor and in my breath.
Again. Thankyou I say. And the seagul like balsa wood plane three feet
Away wings against air. If the ocean becomes my mind then I am G-d.
But instead I flutter, and paddle in my plastic pool; reaching out my
Arms and my mind in search of the peace and ease of expansion.
I felt the infinite spirit once, in brilliant light and love and my
Grandmother's voice. And even if it's all in our heads.... Does it matter?
It is joy we all seek. Joy. Come sing a song of. And peace shall come.
Our natural state, I believe. But then again, uhuh, I want to.
Nothing In Between
The other day I was thinking
About the first day I became allergic to cats
Sitting in the parlour of the italian farmer's house
With the wind howling outside,
Drinking the sherry and pretending to be the au pair.
And suddenly I couldn't breathe.
I guess all those pretenses messed me up a little - got into my cells.
It seemed so black and white. Virgin and whore.
One or the other and nothing in between.
She was the mother and child
So I had to be...
It's dangerous the logic we create.
I went to the national gallery today.
I thought, "it's right here and I never go".
I was wondering if at night all those virgin marys come out
From their gold paintings and dance in their blue dresses.
I'd like to be sweet sweet sweet, I really would.
But can you love me like this anyway?
Digital
I've got my laptop palm pilot digital flip flop and a direct line to
Everyone but I can't find myself. I got into the big plane crossing the
Same ocean again too fast and I longed for vertigo to keep me down.
I miss the passing of real time. I miss the horizon. Watching the squall
Come. Smelling it and hearing it first. I whispered to the clouds outside
Through the window with my mouth against the pane I asked - can
Our souls survive this? A storm will shake you up and make you more
Alive. A wave will pick you up and throw you. There will be sand in
Your ears and salt in your mouth but you will breathe deeply and
Laugh afterwards. But the nonstop city hop and the too many planes
Will scramble your brain and maybe your heart will be left in berlin
Or in a midwest denny's take away, who knows? I've got my laptop
Palm pilot digital flip flop and a direct line to everyone but I don't feel
Better. The choice is mine but the choice will kill me. The mind is much
Too complicated; the heart only wants a field to lie down in. And I am
A kid in a candy store, with a toothache and a fifty dollar bill.
The Wave
Sound comes before the light
The humming and the heehaw
The singing and the crying
Rising from the valley
Til the mountain wakes and steps out
From her cloud.
The palm trees shine
And the sun
Takes up the whole southern sky
So that you can't see the sea for the light.
Everything is humming now
The yellow birds in the bamboo;
The shimmer and the coming through and the bluer blue
Soaks me through like honey, the air.
I don't know why I don't stay forever
I don't know what draws me back
Away from paradise each time,
That big wave from another shore -
That drags us up the golden sand
And pulls us out to sea again
In and out, back and forth; the motion of our lives
The moments that we dream - the crest -
Catching the sunlight, seeing the world from here
The frothy white curling precipice, taking us...
Again forward. And then back
The big wave -
The motion of our lives.
The Bowerbird
love walks beside me, but I didn't see til now; how tall and how good
and how rare a bower bird he is. for years he has laid out the path
of blue objects leading to the finest nest. the songs I made and all the
dinners were nothing in comparison. I catch him sleeping and it makes
me cry for all my wandering and darkness and for all his grace. kick
me out, let the folds of promise smother me; I have failed the biggest
test, a beginner cheating at the starting line. bind me up and throw me
to the sharks; I will rot in your lovely nest, I will mess it up and leave
feathers everywhere. you are too good for me; I swear G-d gave me
your heart on a bone china plate to make up for the pain i'd known.
and maybe we are given but one gift in life. we could go on, but you
are so rare and patient. I don't deserve your sweetness or your comfort
or your blue blue blue, perfect blue love.
Blue-Eyed Lion
Let me talk of my brother
The lion heart
And the kittensoft heart
And the oceanheart and the steady
And the eyes like a
Blue-eyed lion
And the deep ocean soul
Singing it up and always singing.
He doesn't know I am in awe,
That I only touch the surface
Of the places he dives to;
That I would give him all my money
Or the keys to anything.
I think he is a prophet;
That he walks the earth an inch or two above
And below us,
The earth he tends
And sings to;
And the earth sings back
And grows the collard greens from the singing
And the rain.
Let me talk of my brother
Because he won't tell you himself
Like my father and grandfather before him -
The humble lion singing from his heart.
Though I Am Not Known Here
Though I am not known here
By the sea hare,
The fire coral, the inky squid
Though I am no familiar form,
I slip so easily into their depths
Salting my nerves
The water my blanket
Ease coming now,
Breathing
Ribs of the sea-fan
My own purple.
Though I am not known here
Yet I relax like coming home
The oleander scent
Seeps into my pores like mother's milk
Returning and returning
And the summer sings under my skin.
I Cannot Say "Yes"
I cannot say "yes"
And that is all that's needed.
Or a "no" will do
Just fine.
Bring on the spring and summer and then
On and off again
The wine.
Underdowny pillow on a cool white bed
Lay my head and sweet me in
For an eternity please dear one.
They shot a naked man in the schoolyard
In front of the kids
So he wouldn't hurt them,
Their little lamby brains all splattered.
Five times
Dead.
I cannot say "yes"
But I say it so often and "no",
How to rub off the memory of a shambolic decision;
I wonder if the birds saw everything
And what the little one said.
Moods
There are too many moods in a day
And how do I know who to open the door to
Who is passing through and who is here to stay?
And who was brought by the sun
Or a glimpse of a thought from yesterday?
It's a game they play
With me
To see
If I will sink or
Float
Away
I Can Smell The Rain Coming
I can smell the rain coming
And the earth is waiting,
I look out and watch it
Moving across the water
Like a veil, like a hurried guest, like a white wall
And the trees bow down and rise up like stairs,
The sky does not lower here;
There is just a parting of the clouds
To let her through,
She is always on her way somewhere else
I imagine the mountain begs her to stay -
Each time she leaves the leaves are dripping, hoping,
As she wends her way westward with the trades
A white ghost
A temptress
A sweet relief
Paradise Is Harder To Digest Alone
Paradise
Is harder to digest alone
Without the "look at that" and the "wow",
Without your collusion.
I try to breathe it in -
The road winding between the fairy pink houses
And the vineyards staggered along the hill.
I try to store it somewhere.
But beauty won't be held by only two hands, two eyes.
I try to swallow.
The old man in his garden that sweeps to the sea,
The lemon tree bending under the weight
Of so many bright yellow baubles,
The pink and purple flowers that spatter the slopes.
I try to drink in the scent of the pitisporum,
To freeze frame the ocean all haze and light
With islands floating
Like sleepy dogs;
I try to eat
And to enjoy the fruit,
And the wine and the music.
But to eat alone diminishes the flavour.
Loss And Passion
Loss is passion's best ally;
Like two naughty kids they collude,
All innocent and rosy-cheeked,
They know all the tricks,
And every time I fall for them;
Nights you come home late
I imagine, in horror, your bike skidding off the road
So vividly
And in that moment of panic,
I love you more than all the hours of all the nights spent beside you
Your steady faithful breath on my neck
From the boundless sky.
My Father
My father is the poet
Under an oath of silence
All the words, the balancing prose
And the singsong lie in wait;
He is a mute piano
And I would like to see inside,
For once he woke at dawn and
The doors to his subconscious
Had been left ajar;
He couldn't help himself -
He wrote a poem
So beautiful and pure it surprised even him
Scratching his head he wondered where it came from
The sly old fox!
One day I will tap a little
And all the lines from all the years will come tumbling out
Like the falling leaves
Of a book
Eastern Blue Cut
Eastern blue cut
Where the reef drops off into the dark of deep
But before the edge is a dazzle of fish and
And a sky so on and on,
The tips of tails and fins are the brightest hues
And the sea fans soft and purple wave in the waves.
Bermuda is bobbing on the horizon
Balanced on the rim,
We put a message in a cranberry juice bottle and throw it
Over so the northeast wind might take it to georgia or
Swirl it up in the gulf and who-knows-where it.
I like the bigness and the colour and the wind
The uncrowded sun,
I like the sense of edge and safety.
The sharky tingles and the lullaby water on the hull.
The Wonder Is Returning
In the almost dark
The old-mans-beard hanging from the cedar.
The blue is dusky on the bay
All the boats have gone home racing
And the fatcats drinking heineken.
The evening is down and the lighthouse lights.
I have lost my city slick
Browning and unravelling and caring less about the plan,
Tuning in to the bigger and the smaller
The wonder is returning
Like a stretch after a long sleep.
Who does the prayer go out to?
That is my only question.
When I swam through the water I
Was the water
And the blue swallowed me whole.
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