Harvest

Juicy round autumn

 

 

Juicy round autumn

burnished red and golden

mesmerizing quality of time today.

Hunger forgotten when life is a garden.

Sow and weep

while you sleep

a new day grows.

Getting our time together.

Getting in touch with weather again.

And there's been so much to weather

again and again and again.

Sunrays are playing

warming the walkways

flashing out rainbows

in random puddles and streams.

Clear skies and starlight

awaken the night hours

expanding the time to harvest our dreams.

 

 

 

 

Persephone's Breakthrough

 

 

This is where the idea is born.

 

Soft green meadows gently transforming into fall

Sounds of dying, scent of woodfire and candlelight

No separation between what is becoming

Accept and be revealed

 

Summer's wild adventures

Spring was a torrent of clarity, precious rain,

Earth coarse, ready for fecund pleasure

Queen of night in daylight's realm

obsessed in flowering

roses and daffodils

valleys and nubile hills

all is vanity and laughing vice

"But, Mother, I'm not a nice girl.

I'm a creature of the breeze; secure in shadow;

alive on the cutting edge of the storm."

Myth in revision

Standing at the back of the playground

learning theater, tucking metaphors

into interstices of sense and anticipation

In spring, kicking stones along sandy riverbeds

reading the classics

to savor practice: valor, glory, dramatic lines

 

Summer deceives

the stink of rot where flowers bloom

ancient feuds, retaliations, rage

tyrannosaurus feeding future waste,

absorbing a zeitgeist of want, of predation

 

Within greed-swollen seed infectious fear

makes merry with misery’s habit

Mythology frustrates, curls back on its own ash

Eyes burn with hazy summer wine and wilding

Feet connect dust to sky -- but only in designated

spheres, with designated peers, self-selected inhibitions

Sweat out poison into the ground; now, eat the bounty

Midsummer farce, far from honor, far from sunrise,

counting out the chimes as if time were treasure

Silly summer madness as if what matters

is so circumscribed, so predictable

 

Early autumn firelight

reminiscent of witch hunts, ghosts of calvary,

dire warnings and endless hide and strike

The game, the funhouse, turns deadly

Sanctuary calls, demanding sacrifice

The noble phoenix fed on frankenseed

can not rise

 

Skies descend, dark mirroring

Smell the woodsmoke, intoxicating, soft and sweet,

masks the taste of bitter bile, secret vomiting,

starving despite harvest's gay array of treats

Faded, nearly blind, falling in and out of

shamanic fever, primeval native callings beyond sight,

ripple of tribal beat at the periphery

ecstatic vision dark/light/agony and brilliant breaks

starbright constellations

 

Traversing worlds

seasons, years, moments of clarity

no need to navigate, to invent boundaries;

dance of the highlands warmth and sustenance

permeates

makes whole

 

 

 

September reflection

 

 

Golden night.

High fields of food and seed

aglow for harvest.

Aching for thrill and release,

late summer serenades

romance

wraiths, spirits of Pan,

amorous nymphs a’hum in ripe foliage.

Crickets, nightwings,

mingled weeping and merry cries

slowly reveal

stragglers on night shores,

legends told in ghost voices, echoes

migrations.

 

 

 

Random Notes

 

 

Random notes

Spin and float

And echo through this day of harvest.

National news

And lines from blues songs

Hover 'round me as I work.

Love's a word, a concept,

    I sometimes believe in.

But when tension holds me like a sieve,

    I can't believe in anyone.

 

A child grows

And learns to know

The Norms and Bounds and Social Graces;

Learns to see a world that we

Have carefully wrought and framed.

We grow old

And feel we've sold

A hope, a dream, an inspiration

To more comfortably fit into

The slot above our name.

 

 

 

 

Obsequious in resentment

 

 

Heart-full caring loners

wring tattered woe, fling out

rope distilled from wellsprings,

private harvest. 

Cultivation rituals hung taut.

Shamanic curse

spun into fine golden fabric.

Gifts of remembrance.

Sunbeams sing along brilliant waterfalls.

Sparkling rivers feed turbulent melody.

Those who have found the key

play here.  Time loses consequence. 

Old wounds age,

grow into fascinating scars,

fireside stories

retold to bind kinship.

We become free explorers

frail and strong,

innocent and wise,

reticent and gaudy.

Obsequious in resentment,

angry actors diminish hope,

fart epithets,

express frigid gargoyle smiles

as badges

of superiority.

 

 

 

 

Indian Summer

 

 

In a time of awakening;

In a season of wild abandon;

In a moment of sensation -

In a flash

In a long and luscious indian summer of my life

Glorious dreams were made.

Sound doctrines magnified.

Quick impulses of insight found light and sparkled

long into the autumn night.

I will remember

the chill of golden woods

the fairytale rolling mountains

the days upon days of cool clean crispness

like the sweet/tart fruits of harvest.

In a clearing

Along a riverbed

Furry forest sounds and scent of moisture

Early morning dawn awakening

to a season of wild abandon

a golden moment of sensation

In a flash -- alive to an open season

Alive to a new awakening

Alive

 

 

 

 

Ceres on the Cusp of Venus

 

 

Call in the harvest

My Lady awaits (impatient

is She, as all Immortals)

She sends cauldrons for filling

on chariots of the Moon --

brightly risqué

stars burn in celebration

 

We have given diligent care

and service, enchanted the

wealth of the surf and sun,

bound nature to noble

oblige.

Welcome Grand Goddess!

Enjoy the fruits and glories

our labour hath wrought

for your adoration.

Work and Love

These are the best,

the holiest,

of life's offerings.

 

 

 

 

harvest (2008)

 

 

Mornings come later now

permeated with scent of harvest

green and red and the bright orange

of the Harvest Moon

Morning air, heavy with moisture

seeps through my pores

into my bones

I see ships sailing in rough sea

their fortune a deity's toss of dice,

or whim

ships laden with treasure

and sailors desperately loved

On a placid pond three ships sail

a fine sunny regatta

The deep decay of harvest

carries me home

 

 

 

 

Harvesting Moonlight

 

 

Today the dark approaches, loosens veils of entropy.

Pixel colors whisper, soft hum of trails diminishing.

Lumbering, tales sweaty from slumber sweep

crumbling crusts, twigs and dust,

unencumber twinkling.

Luscious Moon, brilliant, rises

like a sacred flower unbinds, radiates,

smiles indulgence.

Celestial song, deep-breath effulgence,

lofty spirit.  All we who hear it open our wings.

This night we fly over poignant fields of work requited,

imbibe euphorious mystery of peace.  Labor’s release,

rewards of harvest, ritual feast of play.

Uproarious dance with moonlight; voice, arms, soar

in embrace so strong, complete.