Sunday, June 22, 2014

Michael's Dervish

Let’s whirl across a yellow sky, wind it tight with wonder.

Let’s pledge to shelter the soft and sensitive.
This devotion is flame ready, rendering promise
like blackened fields, seed heads popping in epiphany,
ready to incite a murder of crows, heckle of dragons, a fold of tigers.
Ready to sound the bell that brings back our breath.

Let’s paint the clouds purple, whirl them into billows of prayer.

Let’s imagine a summons for gentle rain,
for gardens breaking open like my heart;
imagine light dancing and dappled under green canopies,
and elephant gods swinging every obstacle sunward.

It is ecstasy we ferry from shadow, out of a  yellow sky.

Sunday, June 1, 2014


- for Evan on his 30th

I might appear decisive.
Ideas resting akimbo, black & white,
The passage to an emerald kingdom.

Can I give you a sure thing?
Some solid ground? 
No need.  Instead, what if 

Enigma rings this moment,
Like sunlight rides a forest?
What if edges already meld, 

Like plaid weds flannel?
Then we can court vibrations,
wind kinship in wavelength.

We lift each other up.

I could rise from sandy sediments
Breast bare as a sycamore,
The one down our gravel drive.

She tugs water droplets
Out of the aquifer,
Rock bound for centuries;

Drags them up
Gives them a penthouse view,
Opens her lips, out they go

To float like lost tribes,
To congregate as cloud-bank.
She craves the rain.

We lift each other up.

I could sit like frog, eyes 
Poking out a rippled surface,
Meditating on his digestion.

When in violet flash, a horny dagger
He never sees coming,
Drags him up and out –

Tosses him down its rose gullet
And he’s cooking beyond done
In the foul yellow juices.

He is digestion - coming apart, the 
Molecules of sleek frog re-mingle:
Shaggy gray feathers, stilted legs.

Now he breaks open the air,
One motion, look
It’s a frog with wings.

We lift each other up.