Impalpable

Neruda’s ” impalpable ash”

Chants away/

In the fray of my own tiny ruins.

.

“If I touch/ near the fire/

Impalpable ash..”

Chimes away/

And supports the clearing away  all

Insubstantial,

Makes way to take less blinding steps away

From  cave  to  climax

I’ve come to have left out

Crucial  rescue  tools

From my matutinal

Lost-combination locked bag of tricks.

In touch  information

Out

How Then The Heavens Poured

Should I get older

I recognize me,  more blind,

Crinking my neck back, there, as

I look up at the cliff terrace

And A windowed hideaway behind,

Not so unapproachably high,

Fixed over our Pacific, finally,

That we thought might couldn’t be.

Hard rain, hell, wept down a wet

that mixes well w/regret, on my shirt

.

                                                  2

.

One can look past all our four shoulders

From inside the glass wall

On the backside of our Adirondacks

And maybe just make out

What we’re watching and talking about.

A man closely following his own footsteps

The long stretch of the shore,

But looked up at the both of us,

Here Hand in hand, and how then the heavens poured.

I’VE IVORY

 

  

 

Shiny gold pen when an old

Shade-off light bulb

(it can be a candle)

Best  Klieg-lights this  crèche ,

Best showcases this birthplace.

.

On my knees

To lure verities,  (surely,  scour our trees)

To cure maladies,

Wrest fallacies from unsound foundations,

Whisper one less lonely

Wise,  recognizable incantation.

Take this shiny gold pen…!

.

It’s nearby,  go forth,  go further.

I clear my path,

&  Go over…

&  I’ve  Ivory!

Simba’s  mammoth  cemetery!

(they must go deep)

Precious sunned bones poised on  as symbols

Archetexture   actually

I take a sacred see of symmetry

.

To The Moon, The Far End Of My Driveway

Even I’m

Silent Partner in this stronghold.

Before I go on,

I’ll go on & make sure

The blinds are drawn.

.

.

When I’m

Aware/Awake It’s gone cold,

For me to know it,

I’ll go on & need you some

I’ll go on & remind me some

I’ll go and turn my life down some

I’ll sit myself down until

I’ll see myself still enough

To behold

You, me, both,

Silent partners in this stronghold.

NOT TOO WINDY

It’s too windy for flimsy masks
All thankfully yanked at on hardened air
The call & wash of wave then wave mark
The times of our lives
.
The charade route marches
Its way today through town
An older man hoists his girl
Up upon his shoulders
Her/his quizzical smile is quiet
But her/his flush on her/his neck is evident
Veils down

A P OT H E C A R Y

Eli’s call came early

Cold & way too early for a new day

I was awake but I still dreamed

His call was a cry

As if it was for him

Insteada the other way

It was up to him

To set that we’d meet at the dimmest

Darkest strobing streetlight

Down under, nest to the trestle

When I got there, so was a girl named Angel

She held on to Eli, but could hardly protect him

We all talked abit how doctors acted watched lately

Fact is they were shy to grant old faithful effective cures

But daily, took chances guessing & giving crap

What well-dressed pharmaceutical promotion reps

Offered up in the morning hours

.

“You were once prescribed ho hum valientum”,

Eli teased, “And now Say Please

& I’ll fill your order ’till soon you’ll kill your ill-at-ease”

Angel smiled free of charge, her kind habit,

& I paid all the rest

And ran off like a rabbit.

WORDS ON “CREATION WORSHIP” i FOUND WHILE (NOT) LOOKING FOR SOMETHING ELSE

• .

.

i)

s t  I N K

.

of all the lies

in the air

that this liar

is truly unaware of

(is  ’truly’  the right word?)

of all the lies

casual and caressing there

the air currents  n

night-blooming jasmine

the golden ones have come from…

(I’ve told em. All alchemy.)

emboldened lies, all born, I imagine,

from an open pen draining onto pages,

.

from nothing.

ii).

.

.

I’VE   IVORY

.

Shiny gold pen when an old

Shade-off light bulb

(it can be a candle)

Best  Klieg-lights this  crèche ,

Best showcases this birthplace.

.

On my knees

To lure verities,  (surely,  scour our trees)

To cure maladies,

Wrest fallacies from unsound foundations,

Whisper one less lonely

Wise,  recognizable incantation.

Take this shiny gold pen…!

.

It’s nearby,  go forth,  go further.

I clear my path,

&  Go over…

&  I’ve  Ivory!

Simba’s  mammoth  cemetery!

(they must go deep)

Precious sunned bones poised on  as symbols

Archetexture   actually

I take a sacred see of symmetry

.

iii)

When poetry’s  god the old notions

When poetry goes poetry in motion

All of a sudden certain

Privileged glimpses are blurting out

.

All of a sudden

Uncertain unseen forces

Focus on instances, my wording output

(shushshush  on my sources)

It’s a code I can tap

Out

.

FREE FROM THE FIX (I can find myself in)

Court fans helped cool it all down.

They  called  it

On account of a hung jury.

Collective  unconscious,

Jung’s blurred things,

His thinking slurred all the town.

The thing is, I’m thinking,

Not “It’s a hot July”,

As the massive Law’s doors

Miss and swing by and behind me,

But “It’s way tres’ cool for a hot July.”

Flickering OPen

“No sudden moves”,

The armed guides

Confided it all

At cathedrals.

.

for the most part  you start

to get in new rhythms.

your urges  change to choice

to not relenting to Rejoice!

& dance incantations.

You can do

…….candles

We can go

…….free us

calm  focus  candles

(call for us  candles)

We can clandestinely

……see us

WHEN STARS SHOOT

humour me

it’s surely not insurmountable

humour me

I concur it’s not as easy as

glossy magazines on coffee tables

it’s what I really want for christmas

it’s what I really want for my wish

when stars shoot, for my penny in a well,

when a haytruck passes–don’t look back! aw hell

I guess it’s a day way serious

it’s a night more so