Fragile Thing

Little bird
Fragile thing
How could you know?

Beneath
Your feathered breast
I feel your pulse
Of bright blood
Move along
Complicated tributaries
But all you know
Is sky.

How is this possible?

Fragile thing
Delicate creature
Your puff of breath
Is nearly nothing
Against my skin
So small are you.

But you have seen the world
From heights
I cannot conceive.
You smell morning
You hear the rush of dawn
You spread your honey wings
And without thought
Step onto thin air.

You are such a fragile thing
Impossibly small
Yet with hollow bones
And fluff of feathers
You launch into sunrise
Forsake this world
Breathe the vapor
Of clouds
And with tender wings
And cleanliness of being
You fly!
You fly!

And you brush
The face of God

The Drums

Tonight the drums
Throb
And where do I go
To evade the percussion?

I plug my ears
With prayer.
I stop my ears
With the recollection
Of what she’d said.

Learn
She said.
Learn to be alone.

Learn
She said.
Learn to be alone
She said
She said
Learn.

The drums never stop.

Outside my room
The dark
Cormorant sea
Beats the coast
And I think
How lonely
I am
How lonely
Is the rhythm
The perpetual rhythm
Of isolation.

The Pursuit

I chase the black hills
Of memory
On a horse with steel shoes
Sparking stone like flint
Seeking the unsearchable.

The wind squawks like
A bird of prey
Making smooth these
Ragged stones.

With heavy eyelids
The sky is ready to weep
Lightening charging the air
Ready to slash
Like sabers
Like the teeth of God.

Hers was the kiss
The ghost of a kiss
The spur to the withers
Of my horse
The knife in my ribs
The slice
Between flesh and soul.

I will not find her here.
She is past knowing.
But that means nothing
To the pursuit
To the wild
Endless chase
From these hills
Onto the high desert
To the sea.

The Canals of Mars

My warm blood ran
Just below her hand
Through tributaries
Of blue
Like highways
On maps.

I believe
She warmed my blood
Which otherwise
Would be like
The canals of Mars
Frozen
Dead
Meaningless.

I wonder
What she thought?
Did she understand
My blood
Was the complex stew
Of life
That fed my heart
Enlivened my organs
Warmed my skin
Gave me sight
Gave me sense?

Did she know
How vital
Was her touch?

Did she know
Without her hand
I would be a corpse
Without purpose
Without meaning?

Like I am now.

All I Required

I loved the simple
Curve of her hips
Under my hand
The grace
In which she moved
Sometimes urgently
With muscles taut
And other times
With the subtlety
Of an animal
Wary
But soft
Deftly
But with cunning.

Mine was the lightest
Of touch
The pads of my fingertips
Just engaging her skin
Barely touching her body.

Do not misunderstand.
I was not always prodding her
To submit
Or even engage my desire.
Often, all I required
Was the knowledge
I may touch her
In ways others could not.
It was unspoken
But the knowledge was understood.
I was special to her.
Special enough
That all five fingers
Of my left hand
Rested like a bird on a limb
Casually
With welcome
And could remain just above her hip
Until the sky called me away
Until her hips called me home
Again.

The Night Smell

What is that sweet
Night smell?
That midnight perfume
That rises from both lakes
And lanes?
That filters through
Window panes
And concrete walls?

It streams from farmland
And metropolis.
It rises to the stratosphere
And hovers at street level.

I drank this aroma
As an infant
At my mother’s breast.

This sweet scent issues
From shuttered depots
And all night eateries
From the back seats
Of taxies
And lingers beneath
Street lamps.

This sweet night smell
Wafts from dark fields
And breeze-rippled seas.
It moves on bird wing
And sleeps upon the dewy blade.

What is this night smell
That seems a blend
Of peace and hope?

This sweet night smell
Must be the aroma
Of life.
I cannot fix its origin
But this I know…
It rises from everything.

So Much to Fear

I was five years old
And clung to my mother’s hand
Like a wounded soldier
Clutches his crucifix.

My world was massive
And frightening.

In kindergarten
They taught me
When I saw the atomic flash
I must
Drop and Cover.

At the crossing I was to
Stop, Look and Listen.

At the street corner
I must
Look Both Ways.

Smokey said
Only I Can Prevent
Forest Fires.

Were I to catch fire
I was to
Stop, Drop and Roll.

I was warned to
Never take candy from a stranger.

From the pulpit
The preacher shouted I was
Going to hell.

President Roosevelt was wrong
In saying
All I have to fear is fear itself.

President Kennedy warned
I lived beneath a
Nuclear Sword of Damocles.

So much for a five year old to fear!
Surely the world would become more friendly
As I aged.

Not so.

All the old fears remained
And I was to learn new ones.

Just because she says
She loves me
Does not mean she does.

Just because I have a job
Does not mean
I may keep it.

Just because I do not smoke
Does not mean
I do not have cancer.

Just because I seem safe
Does not mean
I am.

Just because the dog wags its tail
Does not mean
It does not bite.

Just because I obey the traffic laws
Does not mean
A drunk driver will not kill me.

So why do they laugh when I say
I want my mommy?

Wild Horse

My heart is a wild horse
With its mane a flame
Its hoofs smoke
And its pathway ashes
Scattering trails in the wind.

I am a riderless pony
Green-broke
Near wild
And enemy to the bridle.

Do not speak to me
Of peace and safety.
These are the delusions
Of children
And old women.

Life is fury-filled
And bitter.
Life is bent
And cruel.

Try and throw
Your blanket over me
And I will stomp you.

Try and harness me
And smoke will issue
From my nostrils
And consume you.

My heart is a wild horse
With neither name
Nor paddock.
My heart is a wild horse.

Klaxons

I told her she would leave.
She looked at me
As though what I’d said
Didn’t register.

I repeated myself.

It was clear
Her failure to respond
Indicated leaving was either
A foregone conclusion
Or of no importance.

Or both.

That should have been a warning
But I wanted her so much
I was beyond weighing
The risk against the need.

Need trumps risk.
It shouldn’t.
But it does.

For a season
I drank deeply from her supply.
She seemed to move into my body
Mind
And heart.
All I saw was her.
All I craved was more of her.
I dismissed my own prophecy.

When she left
I became a miserable
Wounded
Heart-sick creature.
I squirmed like a living thing
On a spit
Roasting slowly
Unable to die.

This pain will fade
I assured myself.
Nothing can make a man
This miserable
For that long.

Foolish.

Pain does not diminish.
Pain continues.
There are no medications
That assuage heart flames.

I am growing old
In the same pain I began
When she walked away.

It’s not her fault.
I knew the truth.
Every man knows the truth.
There is only one solution…
…Be the first to walk away.

Do so the moment
Your inner alarm klaxons blare.

Alone in the World

I am alone in the world
And find this state
To be preferred.

I owe no man explanation
As to my contrary nature.

I may spit into the wind
Without discomfort
Other than my own chagrin.

I may sleep through the day
And need offer no reason
For my tardy spirit.

I may scowl without correction
Be knowingly wrong without reprimand
And grumble without cause.

I may feint to the right
And hasten left
With no pedestrian care.

I may eat considerably
Or not at all (my predilection)
With no patronizing remark.

I may cast a shadow
(Preferably into a lake)
Without notice or apology.

There is no political urgency
No familial kickstand
No gratuitous kindness
No premeditated rudeness
No romantic urgency
And no yearning for approval.

I may mix tuna in my ice cream
If I choose (which I do not).
If I desire I may wax my rental car
As ridiculous that may be.

I may curse the dark
While sitting in the light.

I may lounge the day away
In a tub of yogurt
And no one know nor care.

I may babble incomprehensibly
Snort when I laugh
And take my tea with squirrel milk
And nobody mind.

I may be thoroughly mad
(And indeed could be!)

Though not an exhaustive list
My point is made.

Being alone in the world
Offers many perks
Chief of which is being wrong.
Wrong.
Wrong.
Wrong.

And even I don't care.