Friday, September 24, 2010


Of course you come to listen
My tales tell your secrets
scryed from vivid crystal
whispered ancient code.
You must remember
Spring day walking
along a rocky roadside
sandy hair, gritty eyes
into silent reverie
song singing hallelujahs,
brilliant paranoias.
Sprinting across,
little images.
Listless children whine
"Why does no one let us play?"
A world of sullen children
overdue for naps and coddling,
blueberry jam at teatime.
It can't be a secret
if nobody's listening.
But, listen:
places in your mind
will answer.

Midsummer Evening

Floating on cool jazz
Enjoying mellow wine
My own little garden party
'midst the flowers of my mind.
Back from the rabbit hole.
Back from New York City, Boston,
Detroit, LA ...
from every day unfolding another
everyday grind.
Finding time to play, haunted
by happy memories
exhorting starlight.
Midsummer twilight,
fairytales brought back from sleep.
No longer keeper of my brethren's dreams,
I don mischievous costume,
dancing out power, glory,
love gentle as a summer evening's rain,
blossoming countryside,
dandelions and clover,
bounty of Earth, whispering stories
flowering prophets,
delectable, potent, wise
in the ways of demons,
oracles, gypsy Queens.
Escaping into sacred muse-ways,
every day a new day,
standing ground against a grind
each day more distant
Insighting sound, opening vistas

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