mystic
i am as sure about me
in love with you
as i am
of our presently waxing moon.
(photo Google images)
unit circle
when,
beyond the veil of our technology,
your eyes
absorb pure love
for you
from mine,
endless will be the blessings,
conceived in a centre,
faithful.
synchronized.
sentiment vast
as a gold harvest moon
and radically unique
from all cycles in the past,
radiates a brightness
i have before
never
seen
but believed
because i dreamed
in its existence.
when,
within the braille of love’s universal grace,
your eyes
shine as infinite
on mine,
every reason i’m alive
will be blessed
and inmost connected
by monumental passion
unrecognized.
(photo Google images)
gratitude
yesterday, i reached my sudden boiling point.
tasting the salty tempest from the cauldron deep
and ever lost in fog that engulfed the steam,
i was at last released
by a slow and gentle simmer
in sleep.
(photo Google images)
serenity
i am
under the gun.
learning to let life slide.
entangled
in my slender universe.
where i heal
her broken bones.
encouraged when into the face of pain
on ground on a groundless rise
we surrender the passage
to entangle
our heart
impassioned.
in our union.
ennobling life.
growing pains
amen. amen.
i move freely once again.
fluid and strong.
aware.
this strain too shall pass.
and mobility
shall
arrive.
visualize.
a cradle for a crying spine
that rests in healing waters
of the mind and rocks
the oldest thoughts.
(title borrowed from Growing Pains, The Autobiography of Emily Carr;
photo Google images.)
the back alley
inside your battling brain
present reality wrestles
and pins expectation to the floor.
the match presents relief on your back
moments following
acceptance matching
reality in your hands.
not just any day
today what you find
is your workable mind
when the breeze breaks your late summer heat.
for you stay
with the sun
on your thoughts
till you’re one.
then it sets.
and you breathe.
for you’re free.
august leaves
i create the wall
that disintegrates despite myself.
its shattered fragments forming memorials below.
rays of love shoot through my veins
like home fire flames to a winter’s day
shedding warmth from the inside out.
spreading ashes of knowing.
a soothing calm for just being.
where there’s nowhere to run.
where there’s nowhere to hide.
i am open wide.
my passion media dot everything
you arrive as i stand appreciating my august garden.
like tall, whispering grasses,
you touch me gently
and in a silence so healthy,
dragonflies adorn your path.
do you realize how deeply your travel moves me?
do you know that you are here?
i trace each line in your smile to memory.
i see the way you look at me.
your loving eyes
draw me closer
until i shiver
as your soft lips rest longingly on mine.
(title borrowed from mypassionmedia.com)
alchemy
the sharp wind stirs the base.
and when the vortex wanes
the molecules are different.
now.
turn the base
metal into gold
like the brightest summer flower
brilliant
in sun.
bathe in heat
petal to your soul
like the midnight milky way
endless
in love.
the molecules are different.
all aspects of your being
open and expand
all are affected
and require
your reacquaintance.
fibonacci
i have been waking for a while
gazing through my open window
and the sunflower.
until i am.
you are the flower centre.
a geometrical bounty with an eye of infinity.
where fallen petals
retrieve their yellow
and mend
in concentric forgiveness.
wild
you and i share desire off the charts for our love connection.
in from the wild
at T equals six months, even the sky looks different.
much more 3D.
I sense this is forever.
a talk with ego
catch up. because you know you didn’t start out to do those things, but they happened. you are responsible. i don’t judge you. but am grateful to be timely to tell you, that you are healed. you bring healing practices and prayers into your heart from here to the south pacific. as with today’s new moon and last night’s wind storm, we both know the darkness you see and feel is real. but will be cast in the calm that follows. and will settle soundly in a new, eternally peaceful place.
9:08PM
the depth of despair. the eye of the storm. please make room for hope.
because people who care have taught.
and this is never to be forgotten.
their lead
is to the light.
ground zero
i’m immobilized.
since after my hike.
the mountain got me.
i will pray
and carry heart outdoors
for my pal.
work.
today
is a harder mountain to climb.
sunrise
waking
with the sun in the east
sleep leaves my body
as it rises
in a patient arc
across the horizon
into light
that warms as flames
and shines
from the darkness of night.
God Country
tomorrow’s bird flies in an opposite direction
to the setting sun
to hands held in silence
being with God Country.
finding forever
there comes the journey
to the depth of bar nothing
crossing sacred waters
feeling thistles and wildflowers
touching skin.
within the embrace of sanctuary
you fly with the wings of southern hawk
ascending in spirals
like a repeating meditation
for soaring in skies far above furrowed wood
then
ever graceful through the clouds.
poem in the making
there’s a fair bit of crazy at forty-three
early summer brings it out
till you both laugh
about crazy
and love
exactly where you are.
eating well
sharing
now slowly
thoroughly
letting water touch your soul.
Love
you know me.
i need to apologize
for placing you at risk.
earlier,
before the dawning of your gift of the sun.
where forever is silence.
and the heat,
efficient.
i fall on the floor
but my back isn’t free like the elephant.
rather deeply in shadows
bruises reconnect with Love.
aware am i
for tomorrow’s truth burns
through yesterday’s lies.
in love am i
with you
with me
with what that means
for our eternity.
u-turn
you meet with nothing on your lovely drive to the night
where water falls and ravens surround you.
where water falls
and ravens call.
how on earth
with eyes to see
lies in front of you.
minding distance from sensing to real.
how the valleys unwind
and your visions align.
you are taken.
this is how it feels.
this is how it feels
when nothing drives you on
away from flowing rivers to receding fields of ice
and back again.
this is how it feels
when homeward light is shifting and safety’s a concern
and you cry.
for all the drives you were blinded
passing
travelling beams
behind.
you meet with nothing on your lovely drive to the night
where water falls
and ravens call.
where water falls and ravens surround you.
where water falls and ravens surround you.
Heart
we share our first kiss
first words
first embrace
in a new place.
far from the in between
on this mountain we climb.
connection
how was your space when you entered.
were the contours lit with wild love woven from birth
into tapestries green with natural dyes.
did you stop for the smell
of wolf willow
or lilacs that bloomed in your dreams.
did it rain when you moved.
what was that like.
i so long to hear your experience.
pal
my dog teaches patience and certain love.
concentrating
i distinguish testing from source.
disinfecting and repeating these days,
fatigue in my brain sweeping my bones,
i care for him.
tender.
recovery
the day you stop running into things
like yourself
you hold our recovery from the inside out
and lead your bulldog up the hill.
slowly,
the installation of months of awakenings explodes by your sink.
and nothing is the same.
vantablack
yesterday’s 7:07 brought out your demon
disguised at first it might seem
you know it’s coming out
to strangle your recall
and devour your ecliptic heart.
it will keep you for itself
for days
before sharing you with others.
vantablack brings you back
and triples to your heart
your brains.
cleansing,
as pure.
kenji
a royal japanese teacher of rising
addresses your silent conceptions
under command of whirling hum.
eastern wind fragments his mnemonic artillery
transmuting short shrift in a half centenary of care.
where were you before you learn
your paradigm meets with angel wings
commanding attention sincere.
Forest
a beautiful Woman screams in her Forest.
so loudly and deeply Nature celebrates release.
on ground filled with drums beating theta in her veins
focus eyes from the trees
who receive her unleashed.
abundant Forest showers Healing on the People.
and she enters hers through any opening,
for this is her chosen place.
on ground where she feels good touching primitive.
where magic,
from tribes and clans,
reaches out from the depth of the roots of the trees.
him and i
i traversed my country listening to you.
across the shield
for open miles
enchanting,
your honesty moved me
while my hand,
both my hands,
held steady on the wheel.
your words filled the space i called home for days
through prairie grass growing west of oceans of lakes
mounted senses
slowly,
to how i’ve always known you.
in an endless, cherished landscape
where double rainbows taught me how you see,
i touched my fingertips to my lips and felt a smile
de moi
pour toi
un amour vivant.
depuis tout le temps,
je t’aime.
cultured and conscious you left me a thoughtful farewell
while your journey,
both our journeys,
were written in the blood of our nation.
that one spot
on May twenty-one
birds of a feather sang many melodies.
every pitch in the air touched new feelings
soaring higher than i’ve ever known
and dipping down to landscapes below.
Motionless Moments.
Minutes to gather my breath
for to come to reflect at that one spot
where my World swallowed whole
every particle of sacred song.
new feelings
the day the Robin guided my compass
i met the foundation of my future.
a great, big Reconnaissance
that rocked me to peaceful dreams
after bringing me home again.
Prayer
a solitary laugh on the hillside
a soft, high-pitched whistle on the hill
the one before the other
the sister and the brother.
bearing gifts of amber gems of gold resin
speaking neolithic history
into clusters of energy
in sacred transfers of information
and manifestation
of healing, good health and protection.
vivid inclusions
underlying natural installations from the trees,
these talismanic stones bring safety and abundance to the believer.
moving
moving
all time
closer.
naked eyes behold
infinite beauty
this gift from the Heavens in gold
and bathe
in its antiquity
connecting contours
chosen leaves of green,
wings spread like lace,
bodies succumbing to breath to the end
together
and enclosed in the resin.
the trees
the trees
for all time
remember.
a solitary laugh on the hillside
a soft, high-pitched whistle on the hill
the one before the other
the sister and the brother.
bearing gifts of amber gems of gold resin
speaking neolithic history
into clusters of energy
in sacred transfers of information
and manifestation
of healing, good health and protection.
vivid inclusions
underlying natural installations from the trees,
these talismanic stones bring safety and abundance to the believer.
moving
moving
all time
closer.
the trees
the trees
for all time
remember.
the splinter
the garden splinter
that you wring out of me
i understand
as a touch of magic to clarion songs.
followed
by Annihilation.
by a mosh pit of Madness.
Songs
Flying out the window.
note by Deafening note
on a seething staff escaping nowhere,
alone everywhere
like the poisoned rose shard under my skin.
that you help me with.
remembering
i was unexpectedly interrupted
by the charm of uncontrollable writhing
unleashed there on the kitchen floor
suppressed
to a slithering,
uncoiling snake of feelings
up through the ages in spasmodic, heaving breath
a crescendoed release
and a brace for the next.
she was much younger then
when she lay down and kissed me gently.
piercing with eyes from now through everything.
her forgiveness caressing,
her touch of infinite blessings
for all that is.
her gratitude
that what was,
never came to be.
early May.
its memorable range of days already as sweet as every budding tree
from pure joy to hard therapy.
a raucous rattling razed to a glorious rising
and an embraced remembering
of she
in me.
Calling by Name
Louise brought with her tears of joy
some as big as snowbanks
streaming straight from the Heavens this early May.
Love for her never lost nor nearly forgotten
at last tucking into trails
and smiling together on pristine snow
ever deeper than the smiles were wide
absolute clean sweep
from Mother Earth’s deep core
to my inside.
to see her again is to remember
and to ask that she again comes out to play
when the time and the need is for her to heed
when i call for her by name
then through the bumps and the glades
through the thick trees and shade
in the rough and the tumble,
she leads.
layers of grey
there is no mistaking a wave
from the sudden tsunami of you yesterday’s wind blew in.
lapping a pulse
under the thick blanket of rainclouds
and wrapping warmly
all minutes together to one.
swaying perfectly
for balance past the northern wind’s push downhill.
as rays of light shone distinctly inward
from above to below the horizon deep
into shadows
and through layers of greys to blues.
soles too heavy to retrace paths of mud
drying up in doubt
of movement capacities sustainable for climbing upward.
immobilizing
and
holding on rubber worn before.
illumination to darkness,
darkness to illumination.
the layers in between
never before been spoken.
today’s slightly bluer skies
invoke new perspectives seen on the rise.
like the band of yesterday’s white beyond,
like welcome openings in those dark clouds,
like the rays and lift to the sky a transmission of faith
this storm shall pass by.
sunny spot
besieger
pernicious rolls off you.
enough.
in dreams while i sleep
the ground is laid.
tenacious.
broken.
to awaken.
to life on the hill that is sacred.
passing dark spots not entering.
drawn to frogs and the crocus
colours everywhere.
it is no wonder the gulls call louder
as you are cleansed from my being.
dangling bare toes in the outside of my choosing
is for my soul
nutritious
momentous
forgiveness
and sanctity.
today
this is the silence
for hearing sounds underground.
a listening stillness
to bubbling springs with fresh water for the pond.
how not a wisp of wind ripples calm and successive
the feathers and the down
bathing there
where green pokes up at the Sun.
freedom
we can taste the five star circuit
sweet as yesterday’s whitehorn through paradise.
white bliss and beauty
filled up to overflowing.
our bellies laugh,
our feelings vibrate
the wind on our skin to freedom.
How the disconnect to the next
run deep flying fun
out flying happy.
and all we needed to be told.
and all we needed to be told.
the Wildness of it all.
gulleys and chutes connect where we can’t see
nor fly on the blocks of ice and gain speed
to shorten our breath
and come to rest with the snow tumbled from the top.
just as real
even if only a fantasy
and even if between all five stars
the disconnect not sweet
but sly on the tails of roosters.
speaking about the taste
oh my.
salty like glaciers can open like chutes
spreading white and light on our evolution.
speaking about the taste
we’ll try.
fill up and overflow and share what we know
for all bellies to laugh,
for feelings to vibrate
the wind on their skin to freedom.
(photo by Dr. C Brown)
preventable disasters
it’s like
taking a tuning file to your alpine ski
and working it and working it
without attention to the order of things
and sharpening and filing it
with only low grit
until no metal edge remains.
you know you didn’t start out to do that. but it happened.
worse.
your diamond stone goes through sidewall to wood
spewing a cocktail of dust particles in its wake
cloudier than the fiberglass rainbow of colours
that you know to have bent a long way.
before breaking.
but
if skiing is not your thing,
it’s like leaving your prized driver in the trunk of your sweltering car
until dirt and sweat
seep
down
into grooves
into etchings
until glue drips from your grip.
and you can no longer hold on.
the loft is gone.
you know you didn’t start out to do that. but it happened.
i won’t judge you.
i’m so sorry i am too late to tell you.
that i will learn to understand this behaviour.
Dear You From Me
i feel you.
your immensity
your ubiquity
see, i feel you more,
day by day.
methodical.
honourable.
you raise ideals,
Raining Light.
artistic flare, a push.
abiding tears, for lush.
beauty in your veins
flowing unrestrained.
i see courage.
Journey Unbound.
hear
Understanding, Faith.
Most Melodious Sounds.
yes,
i read you.
birthed
from the tickling snow,
target
Lot lashes,
frozen
Mountain Air,
Sacred,
drawing near
Timeless.
Soothing.
Strong.
Once in a Lifetime.
there is you.
your own Galaxy.
eclipse the weak, weary.
Heart
you are Love and Flow
Right.
your Spark.
(title borrowed from Iain Thomas and Jon Ellis in I Wrote This For You)
sacred reminder
a stop at a place where wild lilies grow
but a little too soon, the wood pecker knows
hard strikes on the tree carry crisp on the breeze
beating drums for the sounds on the other side of me.
caution
for ice in the woods in the shade
a danger for hooves not intended this way.
dustings of dander and winter gone wild
clean coats beneath skin as it was as a child.
groves of boles reaching deeply
black fire signs on pine
feed spruce growth from deadfall
forest synergy within time.
oppression.
not here.
nowhere near this sacred place.
reminds the thrush in the treetops
and liliaceous plants to bloom
reminds the landscape that feels endless
an entheogen in space
and
not a moment too soon.
later in the day
after gun shots close and unsettling
the sky turned to restless grey
and called with thunder in the darkening distance
obscuring excitement for those lilies in the wild
descending clouds on my body
dense with rain
and pleasure be young child.
All Species Dawn
eyes as puffy when you wake close salmon near blue river
the faintest touch toward their gills bruises wild strawberries in its path.
no kicking horse
on green dew streams
only tired eyes
so close
popping sounds as they breathe.
eat your porridge by slow flowing water
early mouthfuls savour behind
slugs of steam on your toes brush the layer of our Mother
tender sweep of wet blades and gravel fine.
nutrients in the nursery carry carcasses to batter
feeding far beyond what is seen.
where genesis tells of inspired smells
that return them to beds of their dreams.
Winter Rider
i hear ringing.
this Morning
at the hilton honeysuckle.
melodies from English Channels sing magnificent songbirds.
rays of Sun more intense than through the Screen
to the Water
to the Bathing Heat
to the Pause
to the Mallards.
Yesterday
with steps.
greeted by four in a family
waddling to the now glassy water
bubbling the faintest ripple to perfect,
Spring’s reflection of naked trees that be.
the bench contorts all sinking bones
when the globe turned suddenly quiet.
perfectly still.
and added yet another moment.
or three.
till plain view
by the edge of former freeze
Winter Rider stopped in his trail
and fiddled about with ease.
with his ancient, tracking cloak of black
his calming presence to call me back
his balanced frame and handles wider
a wand to touch his creative finder.
before his winter birds sang their winter songs,
cradle sense aligned and pitches intertwined.
a Spring bush as it were with connecting phrases
from yesterday’s ice
to tomorrow’s New Ages.
Just Now
it took forever to descend.
down the brambly trail
dusting Western Winds again.
brushing squirrel hair upon the watercolour
every stroke distinct
each hair supple
for the other.
Wolf Willow
hands
on his old encyclopedias
the ones i used to smell
in the past
or his Omar Khayyam’s
The Rubaiyat.
tips to chew off cigars of white
merry, cherry and weathered
his most classic of pipes.
nesting smoke on the mantel
barring nothing to dust
smelling rings as absorbed
one to the other in thrust.
richer than this
the smell of the hide
that draped both his shoulders
and everything inside.
including my cousins and i
when Wolf Willow touched the Sky.
breeze
of wafts of stunning wood chips
how he showered in the same
streaming elemental senses
charging night into the day.
with a smell.
sense privilege for the living.
gripping and stirring
like the memory of his shave.
foaming panacea in old lathers
on old cheek bones
in infinite ways.
richer for this
a walk in any park
when a likeness so familiar
ascends a nesting spark.
Alive!
Awake!
burning only to entwine
all that he was
all that smells
anything like him
anywhere near
my atmosphere.
(photo by Montana Fish, Wildlife and Parks.)
George Mallory
there are Mountains for to climb
the planet’s highest
takes a special kind.
many miles where Passion flies
far above the world
and towards the sky.
Everest beckoned with Mystic air
in 1920s
climbing thoroughfare.
ne’er a witness beyond the clouds
of granite spires and ice
barren glacial ground.
Landscapes uncivilized
Mallory held them high.
Himalayas’ spine of Wild
called him from a child.
blue ice Mazes
Shifting trails
armada of Icebergs
like ships at sail.
dressed in woolens of his day
Frost in every breath
Mallory made his way.
Ridges receded in the mist
brooding Silence
Indefinable
Heaviness.
Landscapes uncivilized
Mallory held them high.
Himalayas’ spine of wild
called him from a child.
but Summit for him never won.
shatteringly close he had come.
broken body,
he succumbed.
with Her,
he was One.
(photo by Ron Hallam of Gita Photos; an excellent book about George Mallory I read a few years ago by Tanis Rideout, Above All Things, inspired this poem. armada of icebergs is hers.)
Face down collection.
— Words
Sublime to feast on words
inhaling their relational Goodness
oozing spice
to deep, dark reaches
forming crystal caverns
where they digest.
For once small and burly words soften
spilling their nutrients freely
into blood
intended
as a bud to a spring blossom.
and equally as fragrant.
Sometimes
the words put you face down.
attaching to muscle that they seize
in your same spot.
for all the days
nursing your pain.
tending
to their ground up remains.
Wherever from
come other words,
only borrowed, bleak and bent out of shape
able to cut the cord if their edges rub long enough in the narrow.
Chewing cud.
decomposed words.
till the morrow, feast fierce, alter the sweet
after to cleanse the Soul with expression and skin breathing air & arrow.
In time such feasts as these
explicit the dishes before you
blending salt, saccharine,
meridian sublime.
joining crystal bliss?
where words ingest?
climb inside the cavern
to see
with your own eyes
the delicacy waiting for you
heeding awareness
that too much light
all at once
may endanger
its crystalline blue.
— energy currents
Snow falls in the open space.
Spring
in the foreboding parking lot puddles
more like monsoon craters
or crevasses a thousand leagues deep
and look back,
the signposts that brought you here.
your body converges in spasms
and the cheerful gas attendant reaches her neighbour
connecting energy currents
voltage to give to another
the delta vast.
like the Rockies beyond the snow.
stories.
true or false.
your body communicates
while your mind confabulates and conspires.
Face down,
you Reckon.
Dreams.
of sustaining measures.
of boundaries as vivid as a wide volcano’s mouth
include your Soul,
Feelings,
and everything parked in between.
to Awaken with spring,
to Freshen the ground,
to Sweeten the air,
as a spring snowflake Sound.
— the Bow
the day passed
until the runner with icicles dangling from his moustache
on level ground slippery beneath his steady, trotting feet
cast momentary, empathetic eyes
a flashed meaning upon your own
as he passed.
a moment beyond,
he took your pain Away.
threw it in the Bow.
tossed it in the Current.
a Gift
of Flowing Channels
for You
can Let Go.
— for all the roses
red Heart
germinates
this new bed of roses
where even a slightest dishonour is unwelcome
where only sunrise and care
nourish
what is already known.
never before has watering felt so good
call it a christening tingeing with red,
crimson more like.
the added hue reflecting tenderly
for the darker shade to cast its light.
i’d rather tend this new garden,
pleasure greeted by beautiful blooms,
than ever to return to the old.
fantasist.
detached and uncultivated.
with shady soil propelling and moulding
certain demise
for all the roses
never bloomed.
— the finish line
they can bring you to your knees.
like their own long, running
marathon.
dehydrated and spent.
that memorable day
at the finish line.
— time with Raven
he flew away.
the Raven.
in.
the last beating of his wings
i heard his feathers grow,
their tips reaching further than they had before.
caws echoe
to silence.
our sharing of space
lasting only a moment.
touching down, for a while.
but Nature never meant for him to stay for more.
the blackest of blacks
his lustre soaring in treetops,
pokes at the earth thawing beneath the melting spring snow
and connects with me
before he flies away
because his feathers touched the ground
on which i lay.
— Inn
Picture yourself.
standing
knees bent.
both hands firm on your knees.
your feet, Planting
into the Ground.
your Stretching,
Straightening
Spine.
gazing down, just slightly ahead
you Breathe.
Deep
and
Long.
when a sudden Awareness Takes You.
a Realigning Jolt.
Bigger.
than how the Strong, Soothing
Beads
of Hot Water
Feel
as they Rain on your Crying Spine.
Lots of Them.
because This
is the largest shower head you’ve ever experienced
and not of your own.
Because
the Inn
where you’re staying,
spared no expense.
— home stretch
freedom,
opening,
your altruistic love progression,
may put
yourself on the line,
may hang
you out to dry,
to be handled as the wind stirs the moisture.
and. or.
as the sun rises.
like above beautiful Castle this morning.
when her expanding Crown
catches you breathless,
holds you speechless,
and for miles
touches you deepest.
in Loving Rays indescribable.
