"Fire" - 8/30/02

fire is something they say:
"never play with" and
barbed-wire something that
might shred your skin
scissors are shiny yet
mishandled, weapons
careless is a country whose
borders run thin

ceramic is fragile but
soothing in making
the craftsmanship confident
smoothly it flows
from fingers to ovens where
baked it grows courageous
still when it shatters
violence is close

and hovering around each
corner of beauty's the
demon of wisdom whose
lessons are cruel
I might have already
decided to love you
in lives better-spent
breathing furor as fuel

fit for writing poems
to be sung in taverns
as Travel - love's-shield
held me safe in Her arms
soul-wandering safely
across time and distance
the mission of music
so simple, The Bard's.

but here I am homeless
no home to make solidly
my own for friends, neighbors
lovers or critters
and eyes can be watery
lips can be windy whilst
skin can be shallow like

flames feign to kiss

"melancholy" - 8/29/02

poems are meant to
resolve what is
too

mysterious
to sort out
alone or silently

screams
of lost moments
soul-etched upon pages

where wine stains the heart's
beating shamelessly
rubied

and so I am left
to swallow what is obvious
shallow am I

to deserve less but
need more and
reckless

are we to disturb
waters calm
when we're sure

there can be no
comfort-weather
wise

as the whiteness of rivers
or coldness of distance
whose mountains

though ominous
nonetheless
remain

forever

"impatience" - 8/13/02

site-seeing you more
than I ever imagined
for better or verse
scream-singing most of
my music (for you?) now
as though to underline
the obvious
point

that you are there and I am nowhere
systematically gypsying my way
across America slowly
wondering sometimes why
wandering with so much conviction
is making me more tired than
bards ever bargained for
drunkenly as these soul-deals
are oft made...

scaring myself a little:
the truth of what makes me strong
alone and weak together sandstoning
edges of the picture of you - so sharp
and spread out
in several rooms (I imagine)
shaming me in this car
traveling circus I am so inside
wide-eyed
chasing
chalk-dustcloud-blind
and willingly
please...
asking
risk with
me please...
question only
that which holds you
too close to fire to let you breathe
and leave the rest to summer's death
as forests burn and creatures die
so angels form and spirits rise
and phoenix-like I prize
what is most
patiently
waited
for
eyes closed
I pray for more
time to be
side by
side and
laughing
child-like
asleep

or