Dreamers

Dreamers

are watching 

galaxies being born

where the stars collapse upon themselves,

by punching through an antimatter barrier.

Dreamers see all that is released into the void,

the unknown possibilities of

matter becoming fact,

factual.

You do this 

unconsciously without

interruption, you take what you know,

and on it bestow it’s own immortality.

It lives on forever gathering to itself 

similar intentions, given their impetus

from entities, cheerleaders cheering,

throwing their weight on you. You

make it through. 

You become,

a constellite dancing,

a meteoric glancing off lights,

themselves moving at speeds that

make time turn backwards.

But you heed that not, you’re gathering mass,

you forget you’ve deceased because

as your speed increased you

were reborn.

Openings

I once opened the earth with an antique plow,
three tines that were meant to be horse drawn
but I was using a gasoline powered tractor
manufactured by Massey in 1954.
It had two close spaced tires at the front
to stay out of the furrows while
you broke up the earth.

And I worshiped the dirt in those days,
with it's rich dark smells and I disc'd and I
harrowed until the mud became a soft bed
and I mulched in manure and compost,
planted geraniums, tomatoes, onions, carrots,
peppers and sunflowers with tall heads, like
watchers and keepers and at the far end
we put in the herbs, basil and parsley.

We made our own sauce, and India relish,
working late in the night when the crops
were ready, with children running around, until
they were sleeping on couches and beds,
mattresses laid down. They were not mine.
We did not have children, we never opened
a womb. But all those kids made me think
of the magic, of how things are brought into being.

That was long ago. Now I open beer cans
and sit with my friends. The other day
old Gordie said, "One thing I regret of
all of my years is not having kids."
"Aye Gordie," I answered. "Aye."

Whisperer

Overweight, balding, crooked nose from hockey,

a bump on my left temple, close spaced hips, wide back,

strong like a ape with a tight skinny voice,

books, books, books piled everywhere, Mann,

Plato, Gass, the Tao Te Ching, Kafka, Rilke,

and a gift with the horses, giving back their minds. 

To do the same for people because we have all lost our minds,

 but, it's much harder.

Impossible dream

for me to restore the lost

immortality 

Betrayal

Too easy to

Betray

Misunderstand you

Misunderstand we

Different priorities 

Needs reconciling

Countries warring

F bombs casting

Fires burning

Ramparts fallen

Smoking ashes

Nothing left

Except

Deeds requiring explanations

Explanations requiring deeds

Left nothing
Except 

Ashes smoking

Fallen ramparts

Burning fires

Casting F bombs

Warring countries

Reconciling needs

Priorities differ

We understanding

You understanding

To easy too

Betray

Poem for Nothing

I've learned so much but
still I know nothing
and I want to know less,
I just want to keep diminishing
because to become
to become
to become
the unbecoming
is to notice what
you really do love
and then sacrifice
is not that at all.
It's a gift laid
at an altar.

Song of Songs

The groom woos the bride
through the veil of flesh.
To get her attention
takes the strategy of
a cat stalking a mouse,
but with a different
intention of course.
The wish is for union.

Two into one is a mystery,
like a mythological riddle
is meant to be solved;
to understand this calling,
to heed this call,
will liberate the dove
that has been caged
for far too long.

Time

A COON IN THE TRASH

DOGS BARKING ALL NIGHT

WHISPERLESS SHADOWS

LOST IN A FOREST

AS DARK FILTERS IN

WAITING

FOR THE SUN

FOR THE PHONE TO RING

FOR THE CHILD TO RETURN

FOR THE LOVER TO RETURN

LONG HOURS TURNING INTO NOTHING

IN A JAIL CELL

IN A BROKEN DOWN CAR

ON A LONG DESERTED HIGHWAY

IN A BROKEN DOWN LIFE

THE DIAGNOSIS BREATHING

THE WORDS OF A DOCTOR

OVER AND OVER

INSOMANIA

THREE IN THE MORNING

LOOKING OUT WINDOWS 

A COON IN THE TRASH

DOGS BARKING ALL NIGHT

THE FIRST DAYLIGHT

THE FIRST HUMAN BEING

WALKING TO A CAR

MAKES YOU CRY