Questions in the Dark

Is it still a human being when it cannot find its way?

Is it still a human being when it gropes for what to say?

Is it still a human being when it knots itself like rope?

Is it still a human being when it cannot learn to hope?

Keep on, you little lovely

when you struggle in the dark.

Keep moving on, you darling,

and you’ll learn to make your mark.

There’s something in your beating heart

that dreams a better life,

that dumb primeval love of living

keeps away the knife.

But why to hope

and what to hope

and what to learn to be?

And why this fear of freedom

when we know we must be free?

Is it still a human being when it cannot find its way?

Is it still a human being when it gropes for what to say?

Is it still a human being when it knots itself like rope?

Is it still a human being when it cannot learn to hope?

Saying, Speaking, and Words

If words are air in passing

or black marks on the white,

and voices trace the chance of singing,

then could a speech bring light?

Could you teach me how to speak?

Chatting up and talking down,

there’s not an end to words.

But how to find the purity

of the singing of the birds?

What’s a mouth without an ear?

But hear the sounds of hissing,

pass on sentences of lies;

see the accuser posing

in some loosely-fit disguise.

Hot air rises; cool descends.

See the faces melt together,

see them hide behind their hands,

and dress them in a certain hope

that none quite understands.

Thunder follows the lightning.

The Invention of Time

Tomorrow keeps us waiting,

and today will never stay,

do you hear the sickly sliding

as the moment slips away?

The time that makes a circle leads us only to the now,

but if you bend it double, then that changes it, somehow.

And hear the anxious ticking of the clock that’s drawing breath,

and wonder at the meaning of the universal death.

But if I took my hand and placed it,

nailed it to the desk,

let bitter iron bloody taste it…

would the present moment rest?

There’s never time been worse than now,

though then was now then, too.

But if you held the passing now,

like no one yet could do,

and dammed it up from now to now,

would something else be true?

But if you took a light and shone it

far out to the stars,

there’s nothing in the sky for seeing

but steel and iron bars.

But if it makes a circle wide, and if it binds the earth,

and makes an image double and so circumscribes its worth,

would that mean thought or freedom or the slipping of the knife,

or somehow touch the mystery of universal life?

Tomorrow keeps us waiting,

and today will never stay,

still I hear the sickly sliding

as the moment slips away.

Net

See spirals all in twisting ropes,

and knots that pull and strain;

they will not tear, nor ever loose,

nor well convince the brain.

“I am a knot…

am I not?”

Pulled all each way and every one,

so balanced, yes, and still,

but what to do if fibers tear,

and how direct a will?

“Absolute strain,

terrible equilibrium.”

And should a single line be cut,

or if a rope should tear,

would all this net work fall apart,

or make itself new there?

Stares and Stairs and Starry Stars

“Oh, how did it go, don’t you remember?”

How did it ever begin? How does it always start?

Here in the middle, we’re already plunging,

always already tripped down the stairs.

Learn to tumble like a clown,

paint yourself silly with a smile;

maybe they’ll believe you did it on purpose.

If you make the landing, hit the ground on my feet,

maybe we’ll believe that it meant it.

(It’s so sorry, but we do tend to get

your pronouns mixed up here, they know.

Please excuse your eccentricities.)

Try to avoid scrapes and bruises.

Brain damage is rarely helpful.

Always wear a helmet.

Remember to touch the ground, eventually,

but avoid that as long as possible.

If it makes things easier, try to

imagine the floor is lava.

Excellent motivation;

no one likes to be burned.

If the crowd makes it too nervous,

excellent remedy: try to imagine her

in their underwear. But not too hard

imagine this, for too hard imagined

makes too hard to manage. (Experience teaches.)

Shape and image and shadow is world,

only dream, only cloud, only air.

Best not to take too serious.

Decay of speak make decay of think.

Decay of think make decay of act.

Act decay, tract decay.

Tract decay, all lost.

All lost, all already.

Born too late.

Never make the landing.

Try avoid injure.

Hurt is world.

Smile and ouch.

“Ladies and gentleman, may I have

your attention please?”

Dead.

House

The house that’s for the living, oh so warm and oh so nice,

a little space for dwelling, that holds back the frozen ice,

the quiet world of wonder that can keep a soul from harm;

it’s sacred space for dreaming that can give to life its charm.

A million smells and memories flood in the home and shine,

it’s so much more than walls and glass that in a house combine.

There’s love and laughter echoing through all the space we share,

and something gives us courage, so we’re not afraid to care.

See the houseplants growing, smell the coffee as it brews,

hear all the children laughing, feel your feet kept warm in shoes.

Watch the sunset through the window all in pink and fading light,

and feel so very cozy even through the cold of night.

The comfy chairs and sofas and the walls all lined with frames,

the shelves so stuffed with books and all the closets full of games,

the mirror in the hallway and the coat-rack with the hats,

all sitting there so patient with the little baseball bats.

See the drawers, so snug and shut, see all the beds made tight,

see the creaky bathroom door, although it doesn’t hang quite right.

See all the rooms together, feel their quiet bit of calm;

if life is hard and anxious, it’s the home that is the balm.

This place that’s full of memory and turning of the years,

that’s here through all variety and all the aches and tears,

it’s something real in memory and making of a home,

and something that we have or would, so not to feel alone.

Sun

Give light to the eyes and traverse the blue skies,

and leave not a stone in the dark,

while the petals that trace your path with their grace

are never quite far from the mark.

Touch gently your beam on the trickling stream,

and make warm the icy water;

shine where it goes, for your light ever knows,

and calls the wide ocean its daughter.

Teach hard ice to run, for the love of the One

that makes up a life for the living,

and always return after night’s frigid burn

to give what was made for the giving.

Yet even in night when the world’s fled from sight

give shine to the gazing moon.

She watches the earth and recalls what it’s worth,

though her marked face wanes so soon.

Light of all life, though you stab like a knife

and though in your strength it burns,

it’s to you we cling, we love, and we sing

and in you our strength returns.

Remember us well, though it’s from you we fell,

for your sake we grow and we live.

There’s something that’s good, though we’re not what we should,

we’ll learn that we’ve something to give.

Moment

What is left to cling to?

What remains to say?

What is there, something solid?

What is nothing, by the way?

And the leaves wither,

the river runs dry,

empires rise, empires fall.

A breath’s lost when it’s taken.

Where did it go?

Go see the shadowed city gate,

the gate without a key;

if only walls could hold out fate,

or if our thoughts were free.

Show me leaves that never fall.

Show me summer without end.

Show me where yesterday went.

Show me a clock that never ticks.

And talk with me tomorrow when

October’s hurried past,

say there’s no time for sorrow then,

if just one moment lasts.

Kite

Learn to go and turn to go,

and whistle where you might;

have an apple, be an apple,

go and fly a kite.

Fly so high and cry so high

and strings crisscross your shoes.

And if a little will a little,

sit and watch the news.

Take a dime and make a dime,

and learn a little math,

but if you teach a leach to preach,

here’s yet another path.

So if you know to say you know

an empty head’ll do,

and if you act autodidact

they’ll say what is you knew.

Because it’s fun to sing and run

and harder far to say,

a talk’s a better way to walk,

and keeps the hairs from gray.

Blow the wind around the bend,

and watch it turn the tails,

so if you’d fly before you die,

remember kites are sails.

Love the sea and learn to be

another kind of boat,

but if you sneeze between the trees,

still better far to float.

Because a laugh is not a graph,

but a second sort of tear,

the little joke goes up in smoke

with every passing year.

So if this kite could fly quite right,

and never crooked go,

it’s not a toy, it’s not a boy,

and it’s not falling snow.

And if it’s there up in the air,

and if the string is taut,

because you know I’d like to know,

it’s only what you taught.

Breathe

Breathe. Breathe, love,
and feel the air as it goes.
This is real.
This is life.
This is you.

If you only knew how precious...

How did you forget?
How could you forget?
How did they make you forget?
They painted you up,
wrapped you in cardboard and cellophane,
set you on the shelf till closing time.
But I see that look in your eye.
You haven't forgotten, not quite,
not yet.

Don't you know you're alive?

And though I'd tell you what I think,
I doubt you'd care to hear.
But breathe. Feel the blood,
warm in your veins,
feel your arms, your legs, and
the hair past your shoulders.
So simple as that.
So real as that.
So lovely as that.

Shadows are the things of the mind...

So breathe, and feel your beating heart.
So breathe, and feel the warmth you give.
Oh, why do you so doubt yourself?
There's no need.
You are enough, and more than enough.
Show yourself a little kindness, please,
like you would for the others?

Breathe, and remember...

To the Fathomless Depth

Do you remember when you were young,
And you were so brave?
We would walk in sunlight,
Drenched with sand,
And you gathered shells
As we went along.
I would tie them in twine
(you know how I love knots),
And with shells in your hair, we called you
Queen of the Sea.

When rolled the tide, you would arrive,
You welkin-eyed wonder,
Come brief to speak and then to dive,
To the sound of thunder.

Do you remember when we were young,
And I was so tall?
You would shout up to me,
Early with the dawn,
And round about noonday
My reply echoed down.
I should have been shorter
(you knew how I loved heights),
But despite all my distance, I called you
Queen of the Sea.

When rolled the tide, you would arrive,
You welkin-eyed wonder,
Come brief to speak and then to dive,
To the sound of thunder.

Do you remember when I was young,
And we were so old?
We would lie on the beach,
The evening streaked red,
And for an hour stern Time
Was so many numbers.
You’d swim to the sunset
(I knew how you loved the water)
And with eyes damp in silence, I called you
Queen of the Sea.

When rolled the tide, you would arrive,
You welkin-eyed wonder,
Come brief to speak and then to dive,
To the sound of thunder.

Do you remember?
(you must remember)

How many times have I spoke this story
In the fond hope that your ears would listen?
How many aeons have passed in their glory
As I've sung to set eyes bright a-glisten?

Still you've sunk to your Depth,
And will not be fathomed.
Do you remember?
(please try to remember)

When rolled the tide…

I should have been shorter…

You remember the surface where water
Meets air, the borders, frontiers of the mind?
Though we've cannons we’re not only fodder;
Air, sea, echoes and seashells entwined.

Do you remember?
You welkin-eyed wonder…

I knew how you loved the water…

And with eyes damp in silence, I called you
Queen of the Sea.

A Walk

Come walk with me this evening,

come walk, and remember the sun.

The hidden sun, the dying sun, the bloody

sunset sun. Somewhere (I promise),

somewhere beyond the cloudy veil

shines the sun.

“It turns cold so quickly. It will be spring

next time I feel my fingers.”

And there are no crickets chirping,

and no flowers in their bloom,

the teardrop leaves are turning,

and the little light’s but gloom.

“Do you remember the summer?

Last night I dreamed… it was wonderful.”

Shivering nights,

rolling-fog days,

quivering lips,

and cold, so cold.

Remember what it was to be warm;

the light, the blooming bud,

the silent moon.

“Wrap me in soft sheets.

Let me close my eyes.”

See the pumpkins carved in faces,

the million shades of leaves,

the spreading fields of snow…

Feel the steam of a winter’s shower,

the softness of slippers,

the thrill of a new spring!

“All is well.

All will be well.”

Obvious

Never again so simple,

and never again so kind;

they learn best to dissemble

who pretend to have a mind.

(Now where did I leave it?)

It was here, once.

I was here.

Or was it you?

(I get so confused, sometimes.)

When I was once a child,

or when you were young indeed…

To remember we are wild

is the greatest thing we need.

(Or was it something else?)

Eat right.

Exercise.

Pay the bills.

(Don’t forget to smile?)

What is it, always missing,

always never quite enough?

And why this serpent hissing

so much tawdry, facile stuff?

(Snakes are weird.)

Hiss.

Purr.

Whimper.