The Unruly Pet

The human heart can be a really
really
really annoying pet
You have to water it
feed it
Take it for walks
And face it
its never really satisfied

But then again
you need the exercise
Exercise is good for your heart
And when its all asnarl
with burrs
and thorns
and bits of leaf
Looking at you with those
huge chocolate-amber puppy eyes. . .

Just remember
Its bound to keep you up all night
howling at the moon
And if it trips you up
pavement can be real unforgiving

Primal Drum

Primal Drum

You can not escape
the primal drum of your heart
Of your poetry
Hidden in your white bread reality construct

Sure
You take your vitamins
You insure your car
your house
Check the windows
bolt the doors
All the responsible acts of domestication

And without a moment’s warning
Reality runs the stop light
Comes crashing through the intersection
And you’re kissing the airbag
Thinking
‘Damn
I’m gonna be late.’
And then you realize
You coulda died

Suddenly you need words
To make it all make sense
Poetry enough
to get you through

Poets. . . ?
Who knew

Consider This Photograph

No
those are the actual colors
Retouching was not required
Sometimes you’re just lucky enough to snap the shot the first time

The distant fog blurs the monumental tree trunks
fractal pillars holding a sky of leaf canopy
an ancient army fading into the distance
Silent giants of dark form
cloaked in shades of summer blues and greys

The wind has forgotten this soundless pace
and the musk of leaf and loam is overpowering
in the summer swelter

Occasional splotches of lighter grey
permit defused cascades of gentle light

The rust-leaf strewn road. . .
beginning at one mist cloaked infinity
widest here where the water has collected
meandering off behind you into another misty eternity

And there in the mirror of the water hole
His reflection
The first time you actually see him
A slender stalk of a man
as still and silent as his brother trees

You see him more as shadow than creature of form
Can’t really say if he is facing you
or facing away. . .

You would speak
but such a violation of the sacred silence is unthinkable

An eternity

He lifts his hand
A soundless acknowledgement

He walks off into the infinite. . .

Doretha in the Sand

Beside the Bay of Lost Memories
Not far from the Archive Halls
the Halls of Remembering and Forgetting
she scrunches through the tawny sea sands

Her pet
her gentle zephyr
tugs and plays with her fractal salwar kameez
Patterns in the weave colliding and undulating
twisting tiny universes from the dark scarlet cloth

Her skin the silk of a new dawned day
skin the colour of an elder bard’s song

Her breath is wind above the world
is the the ebb and flow of the waves

Her eyes . . .
her eyes . . .
eyes the color of the raging storm
churning the green slade sea

come unto me

then come unto me
under a sky of the green leaves of summer
come to me in the court
where danced the dry leaves with jinns last Autumn

i will make you the fount there
where koi will glide
koi who never have to cry
because they breath tears

then come unto me
under a sky of the green leaves of summer
come to me in the court
where danced the dry leaves with jinns last Autumn

and i will lay you down in verde seas
oceans of hisss whisper grasses where we may pass
unnoticed and unaccounted by those who happen by on chance
for we shall hide where there are no pathways
amid the stalks and leaves beyond number

then come unto me
under a sky of the green leaves of summer
come to me in the court
where danced the dry leaves with jinns last Autumn

and i will forge you into a song
the breath of the wind zephyr dragons of Regwen
dragons like wind socks colourful and playful
for it is in play that we do the things
we always wanted to do
the way i have always wanted to taste the wine of your lips
wanted to breath your breath into me to see if it would make me shine

21st Centry Wizard Credo

Magic is nothing more
and nothing less than an artful language
used by the right mind
to understand
anticipate
and to some extent control the ‘Verse

Logic is nothing more
and nothing less than a scientific language
used by the left mind
to understand
anticipate
and to some extent control the ‘Verse

Humans tend to grow proficient in the use of one and not the other
Its just easier that way
The artists, dancers, musicians create things of wondrous beauty and soul
but they seldom delight in algebra, electrical circuitry or binary programming
The programmers, technicians, logicians
create marvels of technology and science
but they seldom relinquish their hearts to love or poetry

The wizard’s path is a bit more difficult
They must be proficient in mathematics, technology and music
Must be proficient in dance, biology and love
Must be proficient in husbandry, agriculture and military martial arts

The practitioner must have a strong moral compass
lest they become lost in the fogs
Must protect that which is precious
Must be willing to walk the spine of the night
Willing to walk through the hole in the zero
Willing to walk in both darkness and light
Walk across the river while leaning into the current

And in all things remember this
by the time you are wise enough to change the weather
you will no longer want or need to