Humid Dive

Arms, fingers and eyes!
To you I call to awake
from your earthbound sties
to give solace to this life which the thunder did shake.
Storms hold us together flesh tied friends,
this rain treads lightly on our window sill
as each drop meets its own grounded ends,
yet the wind still beats on my head as all words begin to spill.

Dark and humid is the taste of Eris' thrill.
"Why" these eyes ask "must you look to your feet?"
To this I turn my head up and see how the clouds always do move,
all outstretched like the river past many imprisoned street;
the trio too much for these feet to behoove.
Wonder passes through periodic walls,
a dawn for every dusk does prevail
like the sparrows rainy calls
which from all twitters do stories entail.

Young and silhouette eyed though one day frail.
This mirror knows only of portraits in its sight,
but the horizon always is between these tethered hands,
while the looking glass rests in human despair or delight,
in its sight I nonetheless drink in joy knowing this body makes no demands.
The sun peers out now over heat kissed shoulders,
in its pensive light I do not stop to cry
for all the moments that in its light will smoulder;
nor need I dare to ask why.

Reflection melds into the star hewn night and ferns will soon curl out to dry.
Friends of this torso and damned conscience,
they now run out of my front door,
out of the garden's fence
and need they not another reason or moment more.

Into Endless Reach

Days I have sought before;
where dirt would pour between young fingers
to take delight in what will come to ruin.

Now no longer do I seek
rather gain, gather, and always look
beyond what the dirty words of 'good' 'bad', 'strong' 'weak'.

A Sunday sun once called my name as
its heavy hand carved Aztec faces into rock walls in front of my face.
I sat to watch and when fixing my gaze at once my mind fled;
left only with the world before me.

The mountainside where all I knew rested
was breathing heavily and its mane
showed signs of the Robbins-egg sky.
Past the branches which have bent before wind and snow,
hazy light flickered between valleys where no body
could be made seen by towering beauty.

Too much to see for a young mind just yet,
I then turned to the ground.
Yet again was the mountain too much with me.
Ferns and rocks all cried of their tales and
danced in their natural sublime delights.
What had taken place amongst the dirt
showed me as many of my own wondrous tears
as the view over one hundred forests.

After many hours spent with my feet against rocks,
it was time to descend the mountain
(the sun blushed with purple and took the clouds with it).
Emerging from the earthen towers I took a look over my shoulder
to see what I was to leave behind.

No more days will I spend eyes closed.
No to only touching the ground.
Only listening to the birds will leave one wanting.
Only speaking will never leave one satisfied.
So with the mountain in mind,
I will walk with my self open and flowing like a river.

Into the woods of joy, hermitage of present experience I go,
holding the hand of all that is my world and the one
I have yet to know.

Drinking from the Blue Sky (Written on a Walk, Among Friends)

Words all but too soon depart onto
the sea of misconception from the
harbor of bright vision.
Only as much as masts can be raised
does the tongue turn towards lands unknown to latitude.
The wind blows freely today
(fortunate for those looking
to move across the water).
Smiling spring air carries youth with
its world of spiraling truths and rejection,
the sun perches itself on its daydream throne
staring at us as all else breathe the orb in.
As all ships pass through such kingdoms,
as zephyrs sealed a flowing present;
the day held me within its arms and said
“Look, look at the sights before you!
It will always be 'too late' if you only where
to choose to indifferently wait;
those who balance on their heads too long will oft declare
'Too late! Too late'”
I listened close to the sun's rise and fall,
in its blushing orange light I found the voices of those whose words
take their visages' shape.
Moments past became shards of looking glass
as my body became smaller as night grew on its thorn laden vine.
For a moment,
my reflection was cool and clear in the waters of the sky.

Farewell Clouds

Desire in the blue sky
covers whole the tracks of the day.
Raining down comes the sun
reminding me that the world is
only the shape of how it is seen.
Stone carved hills come to mind
when notes of poems and the river
are breathed into a tree-shrouded head.
At both ends of the day burn a present
that at once embodies all the dreams of
a future and past once thought to be no more
than time.
The river below beloved friends' faces
flows at once beginning to end,
like the life amidst the spring air and smiles.
Birds and falling water fill the air,
singing softly the notes of forgotten beauty.
When the footprints of the day no longer linger
the wind will still blow sweetly through new leaves.
Yet, as long as a life remains in the hands of nature
time is but a river;
beyond the burdening walls of time.
At once it begins and ends,
with new life flowing at all times;
remaining all the same to the eye that never looked deep enough
and to the mind that never held the truth close.

By the River

Desire in the blue sky
covers whole the tracks of the day.
Raining down comes the sun
reminding me that the world is
only the shape of how it is seen.
Stone carved hills come to mind
when notes of poems and the river
are breathed into a tree-shrouded head.
At both ends of the day burn a present
that at once embodies all the dreams of
a future and past once thought to be no more
than unbending rocks.
The river below beloved friends' faces
flows at once beginning to end,
like the life amidst the spring air and smiles.
Birds and falling water fill the air,
singing softly the notes of forgotten beauty.
When the footprints of the day no longer linger
the wind will still blow sweetly through new leaves.
Yet, as long as a life remains in the hands of nature
time is but a river.
They dance beyond the burdening walls of time.
At once all days begin and end
with new life flowing at all times;
appearing the the same to the eyes that never looked deep enough.