Friday, August 8, 2014



find a quiet place
let your mind drift and wander
fall into infinite awareness
take a leisurely stroll through 
what feels good, right, beautiful

Who would you be, what would you do,
if time and space were infinite?
Beyond stratosphere,
infinite bliss,
the whole of the real.
Aching for stars, planets, infinite,
silent assent that means all is promise.
Daring to explore pleasure, infinite awareness.
Leisurely share what feels genial, good, light.
Infinite muse lit lanterns take wing,
illuminate eternity.
Cells disperse out from infinite regression,
demand expanding territory,
redefinition, delineation, demarcation.
All the places of possibility
open to my scrying eyes.
I am the universe of time and space
awaiting birth.
Your eyes draw me,
they fill in the lines
with infinite perspective.
Ripples quietly express
infinitely regressing
first cause
last effect.

Infinite, eternal, these are words,
maps to definitions, not what is.
Creation never ends, never begins
again, not repetition but reflection.
In the infinite recesses of a sigh
trembling hearts create a pact of solitude,
invent machinations of separation, 
journey through despair.
Infinite regression,
significant omens,
legends and runes.
There is no guide, no authority,
none but me, infinitely mirrored.
What will become of all these "I"s
staring through, demanding
retribution, stark, cold justice?
We have created our own reality 
in the laws and theories we make describe 
the segment of the infinite realities 
which we have found accessible to sense and reason.

Friday, August 1, 2014

early harvest

Loosening from light, long hazy days ebb golden.
Corn fields and buzz.
Early harvesters bless bread of Summer lore.
Cold is still a legend, a remembered song.
Soon enough we'll be lulled,
huddled by ritual lamps for communal warmth.
Tonight, as twilight melts into familiar
constellations migrating like wandering tribes,
early harvest feeds celebration.
Regal old seer, wizard, holy prophet
rambles over rocky hillocks
toward noble Sun,
beseeches, sings, ululates.
Opening passage, veils, gates,
free to rove, frolic over ages.
A lonely infant cries awakening,
learning to be human.
Wondrous fantasies.
Disappointing realities.
I build my gingerbread castle.
Burn off bits as needed
in consolation.
Deep in the woods of childhood
every tree, every lizard, toad,
bramble of berries,
glamorous tragedies,
apparitions, adventure, romance.
I peer from the shadows of my own star.
Here I have purpose, lyric bard and audience.
Restorative rays hover behind, shine grace.
Swift arc of flame imagines space
out, far from grim, grey dawn
upon dawn.
Listen for enchanting pipes
of Pan to follow, drawn on
painted sky.
What was lost may be re-crafted.
Daring quests begun anew.
In a world of lads and lasses
hale and strong, brave and true.
Joined in conjure,
raise our glasses.
Do as we must do.