this thread i am breaks

1.  nascent

I am separated at birth
and the separation forms
deep into the thought
of you so far away


2.   when poetry is your lover

When poetry is your lover,
a hard-fisted and jealous God,
leaves you all alone,
so alone,
so gut-wrenchingly alone
that your heart
must break its silence
or go mad with devotion
'here' is a word
that lingers with the precision
of a surgeon's knife,
a bold and fearless
wound deepening
in the delicacy of your inflamed mind,
and 'there' can never be
close enough to cross over
to the ice palace where icicles
of you melt
under the same desire,

we were born swans
or serpents, copulating with
words that can never be written down
to form the prayer we must sing
at least once before our
souls fly into nevermore,
and the vultures of Paradise
open our eyes.

3.  reconciled

How do I reconcile this joy inside
with the hunger I have not lived
do you suppose a dream is but a dream?
will it all go away?

How do I bleed out this love when bombs
are falling on Gaza and my people will
not let go?
will it all go away?

Why should I awaken and that brown-eyed child die?
Where should I go?
I am lost in this caravan with nowhere to go,
weary of silence, weary of laughter.

I am a fool of God.
Send in more clowns.
Have mercy on my soul.
where should I go?

I am a pillar of salt, leave me to the sea.

4.  division bell

the division bell
tolls
and the light of humanity
cracks open


5. sides

you tell me I take sides,
tell me
on which side does life exist?

is there an inside and outside
to this consciousness I am?

is there a womb of regret that
bears the pain of birth
and rebirth?

speak not for whom the bell tolls,
if not for you...
let the silence be the walls
that speak no more of truth,
let the truth break down
the walls of silence

blue sky above,
earth below,
heaven is a gaze
we leave behind,

like a feather,
we tip the balance.

6. furthermore

furthermore..

kill me with the apple of your smile
and I shall be resurrected
to touch your face
in the dappled light of the sun
shining through the sugar pine,

command
my rainbow spirit to awaken
from her muddy lotus sleep.

7.  hunger of grey

all the snow has melted
and the sun is gone
as grey a day
surely, just before the rain,
before the ice forms
on this page
this first Sunday in January,
I type these words
Jewish
in my heart, sack cloth and ashes
on empty picture frames,
a young lion of war,
the Universal Soldier,
no lines on his face,
stands alone
in full metal jacket,
the shadow of death
and destruction
on his back
an airplane overhead
opens its hatch,
lets the bombs
fall below
desecrate
a blood-soaked
Holy ground,
only the uniforms change
throughout history
somewhere a missile is launched
an arrow lands,
a slingshot
through the air of time
plucks a lyre
and
the wisdom of Solomon
sings of Love,
my hands
fall from the keyboard,
Allah lifts
me in prayer,
I am bearded
with the words I write
a flag of blue and white,
a flag of red black white and green
in someone's mourning.


8. turtle shout

My eyes hurt
your tears fall
burning
your image
into my mind,
flames gather
blue and cold
steal your breath
your tongue
touches my heart.
what ecstasy
this devotion!

we break the eggs of silence.
turtle hatchlings
we moan
and the inner sky
weeps

the ocean has waited
so patiently

9.  after the rain

it must be a sign,
death is hovering nearby,
ematiated with my gaunt and empty heart,
and the smell of fresh bread
baking permeates my senses
January is a pink rose,
nestled
in a tight bud,
perhaps a tulip,
or a peony
after the sun
after the rain

10.

this thread I am
breaks