Time Spells by Fragments

Time has begun to fragment:
Lost time, woven time
Shared time, alone time.
Time better spent,
And time well spent.

Time’s fingers tap
My beat
And scratch raw
Skin beneath my beard,
Transfixed upon
Scaling multiples
Woven as fabric
That erases
What was written
Upon Season’ blackboard.

Yet still,
No time spell has taken
My tomorrows
Nor my todays,
Just my dreams
– Idle as I may exist.
Time shifts
And I shift
Though no spell broken
Save that of waking
Amidst time’s fragmented
Importance
And I, lost
Spending my time well.

I’m Interested

I’m interested, like the moon is interested in a ruksack.

Take me home, take me there, I want to see where you were made. And I’ll bring my spare tire so I don’t get stuck along the way, because I know a Legend of Boulders that weigh the most upon the road.

But after twilight, after my omnipotent vision among Cassiopeia disperses with Sun’s warmth and glow, I’ll still be looking to the sky, watching for each bomb to blow, each shifting sliver of this silver moon as it orbits slight off of thirty one.

I’m interested. I want to hear the whistle, for without the whistle, I know not who treads there though I’ve heard the Legend told here.

Fermented Madness

I awoke into my madness
Blind, awake
Lifeless but my breath
And all around me spanned vines
Crawling amidst my thoughts
Scaling trees
Leaving me a gnarled world
As if each fruit I picked.
Dreaming as I lay awake
Of fermented terroir
Calmly settling inside the vice
A cork upon thy voice.
Can sweet time carry a vision?
Can it send me notes?
For not too soon shall I carry home
What lay me into madness.

Ohana

Take me back there
Waterfalls and tropical foliage
Reverberating along my spine
Soaked with sweat
A deep summer hike
Wearing my clean eyes
And high tides.
I jumped
Like you jumped
Into the deepness there.
A riverbend
An oceanscape
A photograph I’ll always take
That had my ride
In shotgun
Prana, Ohana, sun.
And on the way home
Pure darkness
I had my imagination
Remembering
What I had not seen
A sloping hill
Into the open sea
Around the bend
And horse stables
Wild as I’ve never been free.
Don’t take me back to misery
I’m here with you now,
I am a dusty road sign
Still signalling the way
Upon a path
I know by heart
Ohana I’m on my way.

Sincere Moments

Sincere stars
Like each moment
Unnecessary little hearts.
Carry in a windswept
Memory,
Where’s my limit?
Gone and wrote home
Without it.
And numbers,
Many numbers,
That couldn’t count on
A passion
So I lay there
In a dreamspace
Like a memory;
Long glance.
In a moment,
In a moment
My life.

When the wind blows
I am a moment
Let me be forgotten
For I am fleeting,
Ever needing,
Ever beating
Long in the heart.
For in each moment
There is sweet passion,
No more symantics
Unending lessons
And sentences
Rapture
A long glancing star.

Ode to Goldenrod

What is your weather?

So delicate and sure
Sentinal of harvest.
What once glowed gold
Now delicately so tender,
Brown and wilted;
Seeds like rain
Fall from your mane
In one breath of wind
Shaken your stand.

Of all the ancient history
Stored in your very seed,
How does each season
Keep bringing you to me?
So that our fields can grow
Yellow in the fond sun,
So that our vase can be
Filled up with royal thee.

Goldenrod in Autumn

Moon And By Sun

I am drained of life
Though calming gray Moon
Shines full into my vision.

My mornings wake
With such vast opportunity
Yet I slouch my way
Into an odyssey;
Blurring noises
From Nature’s highway
Busy outside my open window.

This tea alerts me
It brings my senses
Towards the front of my tongue
So that I can find my voice
Rescued from the deep depths
Of a tortuous night.

And here, upon my tongue
A caress felt within my memory
Time spent in my youth
Unabided,
For Spring spirit in Summer Sun
Reaches no Plymouth too soon,
And this warm milk and honey
Resting on my lips
Shall be enveloped by
Moon and by Sun.

Forgiven

Forgive this tender Earth
It has been here a while
Surfacing each destruct
With an ancient iron will
Of I can heal this, too.

Bid not darkening rain clouds
A speedy adieu,
Nor slithering worms
A much deeper tunnel.
No, each, just as meaningless
Stretches on deeper, meaningful
Just as horizons – hidden –
Become forgotten
To those who sleep.

Just there, as lightening strikes
Portal to Heaven’s true cataclysm
Shall sit a tiger
Size beyond what can be thought
Reconciling each footstep
Weaving through spoiled badlands
That shall refund Earth its omen
As raindrops to recover.

There then stands
What growth will always achieve
A watering hold for true survivors
And a river towards a great sea.