Come in
out of inclement
weather,
and enjoy
the rainfall
of your own hands--
dripping
their soft
renewal
to things
small,
unseen.
*
Give
your life
again
to the
thunder
whispering
above
your jagged
head.
*
Allow
the rain
to work
all night
if
it
has to.
*
Destiny--
that word again....
(Meanwhile,
the weather
moves
on
tiptoes
down
the other side
of
the
street.)
*
Love
the
feet
the
rain
uses.
*
When
home
is
calling
you,
and
its
voice
is
your
own--
do not
ignore
the
light
sneaking
through
the
curtains.
*
The weather
carries us
through
the river
of forgetting
in perfect
accordance
to our longing
for the real.
2. Muted Prayers
Sitting
in sunlight
falling
through
any
number
of windows,
I follow you
backwards
through time,
like tracks
in snow.
*
Dreams collect
by the window,
encouraged
by the fire
popping late.
*
We are rescued
by little more
than a touch.
That touch
of course
is everything.
We embroider it
the rest
of our lives.
*
Doing
hidden
work
with a few
well-known
ants,
finding the sun
again
by traces
in warm grass.
*
Stems
vibrate.
The grass
works for pennies.
*
We
wait
in
cool
air
measuring,
measured--
time's
lost
voices
beginning
a prayer
we
alone
continue.
*
Any true
prayer
is a kind of crying.
We wait,
intimating
death--
each
in
our own
dialect.
*
We
wait
for
the
light
to
come
on.
*
We
love
lit
candles--
the way
a candle
waves
goodbye.
We light
a candle
and work
by its
light.
Time,
we know,
is never
enough.
*
May you
always
have a
house full
of
candles.
May you
always
have
each candle
lit.
*
May we sing
in
other
words.
May the wind
take
our
name.
*
May we
scratch
the surface
before we turn
- blind -
and go.
in sunlight
falling
through
any
number
of windows,
I follow you
backwards
through time,
like tracks
in snow.
*
Dreams collect
by the window,
encouraged
by the fire
popping late.
*
We are rescued
by little more
than a touch.
That touch
of course
is everything.
We embroider it
the rest
of our lives.
*
Doing
hidden
work
with a few
well-known
ants,
finding the sun
again
by traces
in warm grass.
*
Stems
vibrate.
The grass
works for pennies.
*
We
wait
in
cool
air
measuring,
measured--
time's
lost
voices
beginning
a prayer
we
alone
continue.
*
Any true
prayer
is a kind of crying.
We wait,
intimating
death--
each
in
our own
dialect.
*
We
wait
for
the
light
to
come
on.
*
We
love
lit
candles--
the way
a candle
waves
goodbye.
We light
a candle
and work
by its
light.
Time,
we know,
is never
enough.
*
May you
always
have a
house full
of
candles.
May you
always
have
each candle
lit.
*
May we sing
in
other
words.
May the wind
take
our
name.
*
May we
scratch
the surface
before we turn
- blind -
and go.
3. Difficult Recoveries
Sun opens deep
inside my hands--
waking water
sleeping in my brain,
kissing my heart
year by year,
hour by hour:
takes me slowly
all the way apart.
*
Dumb luck
for the lost kid:
traffic his dad,
7-11 his home--
T.V. his best friend.
If not 7-11, then
something else:
but traffic and television
all the same.
Gently, on some wind,
a pigeon falls.
His stubby toes do a dance
to keep the kid
from becoming the road.
*
Heart,
you balance my failure.
Your Cheshire smile opens
when I turn--
where I would normally
look to myself,
startled by your grin.
*
Here is the door
where my heart sang
Green.
"Let the heart breathe,"
the sun says.
And so I go
through it each day.
*
The river
is a river
you cannot find.
You need it
more
than your face.
There is a flower too.
Find it.
Let the world go to hell,
but do not lose that voice.
*
Heart
beneath the ravaged
world, the ravaged spirit--
connect me,
please,
to love.
*
Give your life:
it's yours to give away!
Let them have it
for a penny
(let the wind go first).
Above you,
the sky, and
the moon hanging
off an old wire.
Be timed
to its swing.
*
Give -- please --
this old life away:
right from the center.
And dream
your way
through these
nightmares.
Dream better,
deeper
than this cold world
knows how.
*
Sink
straight
through
your reasons
not to live--
like a bird
in mid-air
falling
back
in love
with your mother
and your father:
bright rain,
beautiful earth.
*
Leave behind
all knowing,
all things--
and live
instead
on fire.
Sing and break
into innumerable pieces.
You asked
the unanswerable.
Now it's your turn
to kiss the sun.
*
The body
desires
warmth
and rest--
a meal or two,
and sweet love.
Buy a guitar,
watch T.V. --
sip 7-Up
and gaze at traffic.
The world lies all the time.
Play along--
let your spirit speak
in secret.
*
You couldn't walk
with those legs anyways!
Hang onto the sun instead.
*
A world of cars
is no place for us.
Invoke your classiest
carnival style
to make it through.
Be in love with
the shape of love--
in a world
torn to pieces.
*
You will love until
you live no more.
Death is just
a different channel:
from the news
to the weather,
while you don
your birthday suit--
the moon deep
inside your body,
your body a river
carrying an old song
cleaned and polished
by the bristling sun.
inside my hands--
waking water
sleeping in my brain,
kissing my heart
year by year,
hour by hour:
takes me slowly
all the way apart.
*
Dumb luck
for the lost kid:
traffic his dad,
7-11 his home--
T.V. his best friend.
If not 7-11, then
something else:
but traffic and television
all the same.
Gently, on some wind,
a pigeon falls.
His stubby toes do a dance
to keep the kid
from becoming the road.
*
Heart,
you balance my failure.
Your Cheshire smile opens
when I turn--
where I would normally
look to myself,
startled by your grin.
*
Here is the door
where my heart sang
Green.
"Let the heart breathe,"
the sun says.
And so I go
through it each day.
*
The river
is a river
you cannot find.
You need it
more
than your face.
There is a flower too.
Find it.
Let the world go to hell,
but do not lose that voice.
*
Heart
beneath the ravaged
world, the ravaged spirit--
connect me,
please,
to love.
*
Give your life:
it's yours to give away!
Let them have it
for a penny
(let the wind go first).
Above you,
the sky, and
the moon hanging
off an old wire.
Be timed
to its swing.
*
Give -- please --
this old life away:
right from the center.
And dream
your way
through these
nightmares.
Dream better,
deeper
than this cold world
knows how.
*
Sink
straight
through
your reasons
not to live--
like a bird
in mid-air
falling
back
in love
with your mother
and your father:
bright rain,
beautiful earth.
*
Leave behind
all knowing,
all things--
and live
instead
on fire.
Sing and break
into innumerable pieces.
You asked
the unanswerable.
Now it's your turn
to kiss the sun.
*
The body
desires
warmth
and rest--
a meal or two,
and sweet love.
Buy a guitar,
watch T.V. --
sip 7-Up
and gaze at traffic.
The world lies all the time.
Play along--
let your spirit speak
in secret.
*
You couldn't walk
with those legs anyways!
Hang onto the sun instead.
*
A world of cars
is no place for us.
Invoke your classiest
carnival style
to make it through.
Be in love with
the shape of love--
in a world
torn to pieces.
*
You will love until
you live no more.
Death is just
a different channel:
from the news
to the weather,
while you don
your birthday suit--
the moon deep
inside your body,
your body a river
carrying an old song
cleaned and polished
by the bristling sun.
4. Storm Warning
I live to hear your voice.
Succulent speech
like yours
is more beauty
than this violent self
can bear.
*
Rickety sun does the laundry.
Bread baked fresh each day.
The living wash their faces,
then they wash their hands.
Meanwhile, down in the basement,
the furnace clicks and purrs.
*
The price of randomness
is having to live there.
We deserve to know what we want.
Though the world is out of control,
it is good to inhabit it
like warm butter--
flowing between barren moments,
melting in the nick of time.
*
You are precious -- now
that you are nothing.
Eat, sleep, and dig deep.
You have been rescued,
face it, from this sold world.
Do not throw away what
you could not find again.
Be on guard the rest of your life:
protect that little light
burning in your heart.
*
Dress your wound
with love,
not violence.
Gently, pick your love
off the street.
Care for it slow.
Caress each strand.
A flower is one thing
no man can make.
(1998)
Succulent speech
like yours
is more beauty
than this violent self
can bear.
*
Rickety sun does the laundry.
Bread baked fresh each day.
The living wash their faces,
then they wash their hands.
Meanwhile, down in the basement,
the furnace clicks and purrs.
*
The price of randomness
is having to live there.
We deserve to know what we want.
Though the world is out of control,
it is good to inhabit it
like warm butter--
flowing between barren moments,
melting in the nick of time.
*
You are precious -- now
that you are nothing.
Eat, sleep, and dig deep.
You have been rescued,
face it, from this sold world.
Do not throw away what
you could not find again.
Be on guard the rest of your life:
protect that little light
burning in your heart.
*
Dress your wound
with love,
not violence.
Gently, pick your love
off the street.
Care for it slow.
Caress each strand.
A flower is one thing
no man can make.
(1998)
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