GONE FISHING

My mind is still sharp and clear
and I understand the world about me.
but my art is no longer true
to the visions I seek
and when I speak
I disappear into mediocrity

I think It's time
to leave it all behind
and let my silence tell
what my words fail to do.
It's time to let go ...

A curtain yields to the light inflation of air
Then, earnestly as an ushering hand
Shoos the stillness of this room
Leaving a fledgling light for you

pause
paisse

crush your midst
lean nude upon
the frame
coated in the cruel light
the cold of night
pressed in the shape
rising
basalt
seamless

the light burns
in its urn
upon the wall
the television
an eye
the blue headlamp
stalled

the bruises
run up
creep like
shadows
the brilliant
eye
glitters
hot
sad
haunted
lost

So soothingly
so beautiful
coming from the cream
of modern youth,

my time since then
you make me recall
you wet my lips

and

Whet my appetite...

I love her still
though tis late,
sans we are
sans all

But still we admire the years,

like you we did once kill
but desire lingers still,
let’s be a part of youth again
and
ask time, to for a while stand still....

I and she try still....

A cool summer rain is a blessing,
a panacea.
A wild winter wind is a cursing,
a cursing of God.
A warm autumn gale is relieving
from mad summer heat.
Spring has a special breeze sent from that God-
a cool summer rain.

Bright brittle light allows no lies
on my country's ancient hard worn lands
where indifferent spirits stay uncaring hands
from us who swarm it like so many flies.
Unlike the misty intimacy of Eire
for the numinous is ever present there.

But come the night over southern skies
the brittle bright light disappears in hued sands
sublime opens high over this outstretched land
as ethereal webs unfold a thousand eyes.
Unlike in the misty intimacy of Eire
the numinous shares the spacious outback's prayer.

I close my eyes and hear it beckon me
recumbent countryside of being’s realm
a voice that whispers, come, be city free
with such desire, my heart is overwhelmed

to leave the dank and dirty urban street
its people tired, too busy much to care
to find a place with friendly souls to meet
and taste and feel and smell the rural air

see animated murals as they form
feel ever-changing landscapes, as they push
intensely fragrant pure ambrosial storm
from multispectral flowers of the bush

Hot charade
smolten
trease

melting in the glare
of winters cool dare
fitted upon the wooden
legged logic
of an ego
Bare

Haunted is the rock
an auburn glide
the wild eye
stripped to the
essential beauty
the essential depth
lashes like palms
mirage of mercury
sotto straddle
cherry rosen
hips
the promised lips
turned
a window
clear

Mirth decandent
ruinous doubts
the broken hearts
like ghosts linger
bout'