As if you were Seagrass

As if you were Seagrass 

I will sit you
Astride my pony
Make you feel her 
Mighty shoulders working
Mane wind blown
Nostrils flaring
In morning's virgin rays

Her steamy breath flowing back
With the early chill.

Push your boots deep 
Into the stirrups.

Wrap the reins 
About your right hand.

Stand tall in the saddle
Your left hand in a balled fist
Settled into your hip.

Find her rhythm 
Her cadence  
And allow your body
~~as if you were seagrass~~
To undulate with 
The song of her hooves
Upon the sod's dewy sheen. 

Ride!

Ride her
Until every pursuing memory

Stream behind her tread...
Until the joy of the saddle
And the chime of your spurs

Join with the wind in your hair

The beauty of your pony

And the thrill of your fresh

New morning! 

to walk like a man

she shucked my boots like corn
tossing each into a dark corner
then commenced what I could not expect.
to my embarrassment 
she attended my severely worn feet
ignoring their reviling condition 
having negotiated many wide and deep hills
travelling valleys 
transversing streams and rivers
to arrive home
following years of war
just short of daybreak.

say what you may 
concerning the intimate parts
of the body of a man
I say they are the feet.
they are that fragility
that determine the walk 
of a man
and to them she concentrated
her full attention
while I tightly closed my eyes
to forbid I burn into
everlasting memory 
the images of this woman
my darling girl
rubbing away so many miles 
of Indian trails
wagon paths
and deer traces
across painful journeys 
to our place of reunion.

hearing naught
save her warm breathing
I eventually fell asleep
waking after full dark
to a single candle's glow.
I found she had bundled
my blistered feet
in a warm wrap
then joined me in sleep
at my side.

I am now an old man
marred by the indignities
of advanced age.
but i fondly recall
the ministry
my dear wife proffered  
by loving me 
from the ground up.

say what you may
concerning the joining together 
of a man and a maid
i insist the most tender affection 
ever i received
was the early morn
i returned following years 
of devastating combat
to be restored
by my darling girl
from toes
to heels
from instep to arch
by the anointing of her tears
and the gentleness of her hands
that i might once again
walk like a man.

 

reasons

there are reasons fireflies sleep
in the morning
while butterflies sleep
at night.
and there are reasons
lovers love best 
in fire light
and fighters fight best
in the light.

there are reasons i keep quiet
when with you
while i talk best 
when alone.
and there are reasons
i never sing in darkness
and reasons my soul's construct
is stone.

there are reasons i leave
no footprints 
yet shout down canyons
so wild.
and there are reasons
i strive for achievement
and reasons i grow gentle
my child.

there are reasons i do not gaze
into campfires
but open my eyes
to the stars.
and there are reasons
i study
the cosmos
but shudder at venus and mars. 

there are reasons i fascinate
over road maps
yet trust no
tale of amazing daring-do.
and there's one reason
i forsake every lover
but return in the moon glow
to you.

inevitability

i feel the engine within me
thrumming 
but missing a sporadic beat.
just enough to remind me
it will eventually seize
in an oily
steamy surprise
of end time chaos.

i will grab my chest
or fall face-down
into my oatmeal.
or they may find me 
in the bathroom
splayed across the 
checkered tiles
like a surrendered
chessboard king. 

the clock is running
and i'd best 
get down the highway
before it inevitably stops
and i can't squeeze in my
las

Update

Hi, Folks....I've been in and out of the hospital. A couple of transfusions helped to stabilize me; make me feel better. I'm home now. Missed three weeks of work, and still feel way too weak. Anyway, I've been too out of it to write. Hopefully, I will soon be back to it. In the meantime, think a few good thoughts. If you pray, I'd be happy to be lifted to God. It's been a hard time. Surely good times will return!

~ James

holy light

lying in bed
at the first flaring
of the sun
my addled mind marveled
at the graceful arch
of her hip
gently sloped
as though it were
the geography of tiny explorers
hoping to make a colony
of lovers of her terrain.

the first rays
set afire her rising hip
and dazzled
the miniature vagabonds
making them think surely
gods dwelt here.

i touched her softly
and she awoke.

but how do you tell a goddess
her terrain
has been usurped
by those of lesser caste
content to dwell upon
the sensuality of slope
bathed in holy light?

Days Before Me

I have lost the words
The vowels and verbs
Of my fathers.

Precious sentences
Of hope and desire
Now lie mouldering
Gone
And forgotten.

Phonics of blessing
Are dead in
Days before me.

Breath they summoned
Begging rain upon their fields
Breath used for blessing
Breath saved for desire
Breath stored for welcome
Breath made for gasping the devine
All interred in soil and forgotten.

How came this shallow exchange?

All I've left is a solitary
Lonesome word meaning
Hummingbird.
And in this solitary word
Remains the whole of my grandfathers.

Oh, the loss
The sorrow of
Days before me.

The End Game

The End Game

Remember the sweet blossoms we bore
In the bright
And glorious spring of youth
And our pathless direction
Bound for no place particular
And every place generally?

Do you remember the sun
On our faces
And the moon in our nights?

Tell me true, love
Do you remember?

Snow fell gently in our winters
Melting effortlessly
Come morning's golden sun.

Truly, love
Do you remember?

We could fly
Across wide
Cloudless skies.

Love, truly
Do you remember?

Our feet, my love
Have anchored
And we are now rooted here.

Sweet love of my youth
Here we rest
You there, in stone
And I here, in dust.

Let it go
Darling love.
All is done.

Here we rest.

Your Refugee #1

I am your refugee
Patrolling ditches and ravines
Alongside your roads and highways.

In the dusk before nightfall
I move.
Stumbling at midnight
I move.

Alerted by the screaming complaint
Of your Stukas' siren  
I flatten into the earth
Clawing a shallow grave
To mark my passing.

Scorched earth burns
Along with carts
Mules
Children
And old women.
Men perish sheltering
Their children and wives.

I am your refugee.

PUKA PUKA PUKA PUKA
Your machine guns
Tear the heads from little boys
The arms and legs from little girls
Making them rag dolls
In lots too small for burying.

Get up! Get up! Move!
I implore
But an old woman says
To what end?
Are we not all dead?

My arms dangle uselessly at my sides.
My trousers are burnt and blood soaked.
I must die.

I am your refugee.

Waiting for Redemption

Waiting for Redemption

I yearn breath.
It's been so long since I have tasted life's nectar!

Soaking air through my skin
Through my fingertips
Even the ends of my hair
I drink oxygen from my strands.

I am thirsty.

Last night I stood
In the vex of Venus
Waiting for redemption
To fall
As rain
To the parched earth
As breath
To those dying to simply breathe.

Tonight, I will again wait
Among the toppled remnants
Of what are tokens
Of yesteryear's megaliths.

I will be in the shadow of years
In the tears of deferred hope
In the crushing of the petals
Wanting but to breathe.

Say it, oh say it!
Say the Word
And I shall be healed!
Will me to breathe again.
Bring your magnificent lips
To my begging ears
And say
'Breathe, my love!
I command breath
Into your parched
Dusty lungs!'

Say the Word
And I shall stand again
Breath will be mine
And I will drink the air
Of the first morning
As wedding wine!