Self-Contained

Come fly with me

away from this white-washed city

to a new home made from martyr's bones.

Come fly with me.

Away from this white-washed city

and dance until there's nothing left to end.

Let me be the rock you're built on,

Let me be the hand you hold.

Let me be the stone you cling to.

Let me be your only one.

I curse the day that we became

so desperately self-contained,

I curse the night which therefore came.

Wedding

The window-skirts are long and closed of late.
Of fabrics varied: denim, paisley, plait.
The light is shut and closed away.
Even windows now blind and unashamed.

For eyes of man, humanity obscured,
halves on either side of pane,
the hills and sun are shut and still,
and man awaits the light of shame.

O, how to choose a single view
the many landscapes of human truth.
The many fields of golden wheat.
The reaping ready, kids to feed.

A single sill with single glass,
a single faith, a single mass,
a single, slow, first married-dance.

The sight first seen after purest day,
The myst'ry changed when cleared laid.

The singular glory of a single sun.

The Finding in the Temple

The fire-alarm lays quiet in the evening-time
waiting for a drunken boy to pull away,
to wake up all the sleeping residents out from their beds
to meet one-another's friends in the street in the moonlight.

It only takes a moment to wake up from a dream
A moment to lose the half-thought hopes and fears
We will break them from their reverie.
Just like every time we touch.

The Tower

The tower is growing taller now,
the wind is blowing strong;
The Tree is growing thicker while
the smokestack blows its steam.

The flames are growing taller here,
the forest growing thin,
while birds fly fast and far away
knowing never they'll return.

The air is growing thicker while
the mountains growing higher,
The grass is slowly dying as
our houses are growing smaller.

The Knob

I take a calm and silent tone;
I make few points, but drive them home.
I guard my heart, my smile, my eyes;
I measure words and yawns, and sighs.

"Stop," I say - "(Think first, then speak.
Your truth is greater than you see) -
your falsities, in fun or anger."
Coping slows as Trust grows grander.

Quiet Evening

I sit alone and still remain,
I read and write and see now why

To love and to be a forgotten friend-
To let go slowly, await an end.
To smile at a young girl's growth,
to see a heart be made a home.

I wish to see a soul grow strong,
I wish that heaven would play its song.
I pray for hope to fill the sky,
and possibly, ignite your eyes.

Your Eyes

call like spilling cream,
like a slowly weeping lamb,
like a flower trampled underneath,
"help me - do you understand?"

scream like a bat from Hell
with wrath uncontrolled
your moment most alive - mine most terrified,
"touch me and we both will die."

invite and smile
like the swelling second violins,
slow and laughing, open, dancing,
"I and love and we are here."

The ewe is quiet in the open field;
the blades are waving in the second-hand sun.
Under the single tree she stands,
green eyes burn like a forest fire,
like a calmly loaded gun.
She falls as her rear, left leg gives out,
But catches herself with determined stare.
Piercing stare, unfocused, still,
and empty, weighted, sublimated,
the edge walks closer on its own.
Her green, sad eyes


call like spilling cream,
a slowly weeping lamb,
like a flower trampled underneath,
"help me - do you understand?"