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.
