Where we fall in the dew of shadowless beings
Where we taste evil and blood and know our silence
Is its mother….
Where we lie down in fear of sleeping our eyes transfixed
On a wind of blowing dust and skin…..
The future walks among us….
Where we hear the muted prayers of a vanished child at
The gates that
open toward nothing….
Where we hold one another in the dying parts
Where we waken in dawns aflame
And feel the stick figures
On the ancient walls watching us….
The future walks among us….
In the rain just now
The smallest stones filled with moonlight
Dim their lamps….
The same singing
Hangs from the trees where the owls sleep….
Soft songs melting through the leaves
The fragile leaves….
Hidden among the death masks….
The still open hands holding
Over which a nightmare I have dreamt all my life
Rain misting on the inside of a
Wolf tracks leading us out of our fear…
A bruised light in the waterless jars….
You in your coat made of
For the raven that awoke me….
Where light has lain with the floating leaves
These spirited ones sit in bundles of air….
Winds scented of the saliva of spirits…
For those resisting …
In the streets of la Paz…
Deep mystery and strength in the
Veins of the Aymara….
Warrior fires flickering in
For Evo Morales
Our words written in dream
Chrysalis of what is here….
Scented of rain
Scented of our waking….
As the moth
Spinning in circles…..
On our window ledge….
The first time I saw sunny
She was dancing in a Tijuana bar
To procol harums another shade of pale
The borders we crossed
Along the Mexican peninsula
Across the illegal plains
Saved me from my floundering self
Her beautiful smile as she danced ankle deep in the luminous
Smuggling books into East Germany
Under the Berlin Wall
Later in a ghost filled room I made a prayer
For the lost….
And they went home
And the wall fell down….
An orphaned night rises over the saintly gardens of Bologna…
I am looking for you among these ruins that call themselves poems
Looking for you as if it the last thing to be done in this greying mist
Before dusk I have seen you moving as a thread of silk from a spiders
Cloak I have seen you tasting water made of prayer and ash
And a little horse in your pocket
The solemn world drinking at the
Wells of indifference….
Names falling out of the autumn
Between each spoken word….
A sacredness resounds
It’s quivering motion turning in a
As the silence that glistens in a ravens eye….
Of what can never be spoken
Watching in its spirit voice
Toward our yearning….
Where light mirrors through
Breath falls out of a crescendoing wind
Breath looking for its life
Bells of paper prayers burning where once
the sentinels stood
Trees calling to one
Trees in their remembered shadows
October 4 19
Soft words that have never spoken
Inside the abandoned tennis shoe
Of a child….
On a Texas riverbank….
still warm imprint of Hotneh
from its track
The miraging rain….
torn white cloth of skin and fear
as a grey moth escaped from a torn nightmare
On concertina wire shining under a full moon….
We must begin the war drums
The dog soldier texts
Marina de Lesina