To late, I am free
It’s happened again
You’ve opened up
I’m flying now
You’re wind upon my sail
Rested with a cockatoo
Who told me every tale
Which kept my dreaming
Found you here again
Take me longer than I thought I could
For the land has gone sailed away
With a white breasted Blue Jay
Met two deer who could not stay
So I took a queue and found my way
To the highest peak on this day
That left me wondering if I would sway
For no ghost here could say
And I, left wondering in circles chewing hay
With two doctors who wouldn’t pay
A penny more for sasquachaway
To learn more constellations
To sail the astronomical seas
To divine with angles found
In unearthly sights unseen
For as I look up to the stars
While frogs make music yonder
And a fire cackles behind my back
To warm my dreaming body
I find a way to waltz around
From Perseus to Orion
And maybe Cassiopeia will
Dance the night away with me.
This howl awoke into a fog
A late winter hovering on summer’s brow
Shifting dreams into shivers
Shifting giants into trees
And stones walking in silence
To wind blowing softly
Upon the giant’s sail.
A lone small bird soared effortlessly
Into and then out of fog
Looking regularly at the ground cover
For the days feed of minions and minnows
Bobbing with the grace of an oil lamp
Stained the colour of desolation
Like a sea captain standing proud
Upon the hearth of a sinking ship
Smoking his last bowl from his foreign pipe
Blowing heavy clouds over the valley
Set deep inside his heart of a howl.
I was a sailor broken down
Two bags of silver from the crown
One Lady yonder missing me
And two days more I’d run from ground
But even with a bag of gold
I called out loud when setting sail
For o’r the breakers I was sure to see
A land I’d not know, adventure to me
And surely a maiden calling out to be
Another Lady missing me.
Alone is what to be would be
If I were out at sea
Amidst the waves and blowing wind
Setting my sails aglow.
Alone is what the songs would sing
Should I not hear your voice
That sang about morning chores,
Music to my ears.
But alone amidst the evening’s set
Should never find me awake
For dreams take me floating away
With ten friends upon adventure.
As seed took its flight
From the palm of my hand
I felt a cloud
Receding from my heart,
Deep as I remain.
I knew what had been
Had come again to us
Not to tarry as long
But definitely sent
To help us on our way.
If you dared close your eyes
And listen to early summer breeze
There was, singing sweetly,
An apparition to remain.
Can you call me one more time
Like so many times before?
Can you share your wisdom
To help my youthful pride?
If I should waste another breath
I shall not hold my stride
That you so valiantly kept,
Like gale force winds
And secret glimchens
Upon your heart so clear.
Like every day that’s come again
You brought your soul divine
To bask in changing season
That always stopped to overtake.
You recognized that as a robin comes
A sparrow and bluejay shall too,
You knew that purple pansies grew
As humming bird feeders drew.
Your wind called out where we all heard,
Your wind amidst our sails,
Your peach upon our fruit trees,
Forever once again, in bloom.
I imagine you’re an ocean.
I imagine you’re so full and buoyant
That my hide is held afloat
Through this warm summer night.
I imagine your strong winds
Fill my sails with speed,
Sending my wake into places
I’m not looking behind.
I imagine you’re sweet salty kisses
Touching my lips,
Enlivening me to my breath
Refocusing my attention to the little drops
Left about my goosebump covered skin.
Sometimes dreams don’t leave room for imagination;
Waking with a fright and deep recollection.
Hollering into night cools my lone wolf.
I’m a man of slip-slopping recollection,
I dine with strangers who share my wine.
We beg for answers when we’ve shown no mercy.
We all do.
It’s the cruelest of tortures that bless us rancid
Until our feverish states blow our sails full.
Darker seas then any wind-swept sailor would care to see.
Rupturing up my torn soul
I do continue to howl in my brief waking hours
For my window has closed and my feet become sore
And my alley of sinister has just become cold,
To await my march as darkness in greeting.