Taken

What takes you away?
What brings the lines
From bowels to forehead,
And understands nothing
Of what’s seen before you?

What holds you
Like a scarf on a cold subway
Clicking away
In a nice rattle
Of destination approaching?

What holds time so still
That a lifetime is lived
Experienced
Played
And given
With a softly exhaled breath
Standing atop
Naked and pointed?

What holds you steady
So that even rainbows don’t move
As you traverse this landscape
Narrowly escaping
A landslide of memories
Nobody told you to write down?

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.

Old Chedi

And so spoke the heart song
Softy renovating each edge
To include a space for memories
That helped caress harmony;
A state of living
That slowed down
And remembered to breathe
Like the infinite bliss
And awakening
Found while sitting
At the foot of old chedi.

Eleven Seconds

Don’t install me in an ambient
I want kaleidoscope
Forgive me in an understanding
That I’m yet to come upon
This could have been my memory
Shaken from the slope
Dropping little apple
Fallen from the tree
Whisper late night
And be me and both again
For beginning with the smallest cloth
I woke up
And eleven seconds.

Trinkets and Lace

My view is distorted by lace and flowers
That have begun to wilt and burn
But the lace remains timelessly
Arched upon the bow
That keeps the clouds, so heavily
From my memory
And takes me back to a house I knew
Down Coppers Lane, remains.
I still smell the ancient windowsills
So beautifully exposed cedar wood
Grains like driftwood at the shore.
This pleasure reminds me
How much needed it is
To carry trinkets for the river.

Itchy Memories (3200)

Inspiration has laid waste
To a plethora of heart songs
And itchy memories,
Each of which stands tall
On the distant horizon
Glimmering in a sea of illusion
That makes it hard to look back at.
For the sun beats down so strong,
And ghosts most definitely do
Walk here amongst us.
There will never come a time
When they fade away,
For my last lifetimes visions
Still slide with me
And my future lifetimes
Still visit me,
But today I still do not look back
For this road forward
Still has clear recognition
To which I need not gamble
To play at.

Gates (day 3194)

No longer could the gates be closed
No longer were they present
Abandoned
For when the sky
Turned its evil red
A wind swept in
Opening the holes
Receding each memory
Until desolation took hold
And all was washed
White with time
Which left no one
To collect
Fragments of dust
Standing guard
At the gates
They could no longer close.

Smiling Observation (day 3168)

I never noticed your smiles at me
Though I’m sure they were there
They trickle down from a memory
Often bringing a smile to my own face.
I wonder if I do that in my own right now,
I’m of an age where I am no longer youngest
No longer subject to freedoms of fancy.
I know that often you weren’t just idle
Watching and enjoying the moments
You kept busy, kept active, kept thinking
No matter the occasion
So that perhaps your moments of observation
Weren’t so lingering after all
Were they longing?
Instead filled with conversation
And little tasks
To keep you busy against the time
That aging tends to lead one towards.