Remembering the inward dreams that don’t go away

Remembering the inward dreams that don’t go away
The small silences of early morning….
The wanderer in me now
Among the warrior uncles of my youth….

The porch light of those summers in Oklahoma bathed in circling moths

Shimmering as heat over the wheat fields…

Shimmering in hard life and peyote moons….

A grey heron….

Standing on one leg

In the still spirited waters

Of twelve mile point…..

Foggia ghetto
April 30,19

In the rain just now

In the rain just now
Before dusk…

The smallest stones on the shoreline light their lamps….

Every morning the same songs unsung
Hang from the trees where the owls sleep….

Soft songs melting through the leaves

The fragile leaves….

Hiding among the death masks
The still open hands….

Over which a song I have dreamt all my life

Is sounding….

The songs
Foggia italy
April 27.19

Here in the unspoken

 

Here in the unspoken….
Where a dead lover

immaculate in her

Invisibility….

Brought me to a flowing river….

Late afternoon

 

The trees ascending into the water….

Where her eyes opened for the last time
forever….

Whispering

This is where dreams bring their wounded…
This is where dreams cross over leaving
us….

This is where dreams….
Come to die….

From the stronghold

April 2 19

For pat.

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Mom

Mom

Here in this quietude….

There is your voice
                Whispering from a remembered place…
Smiling from the distances that separate fear from joy….

Agony from aloneness….

Your cigarette smoke forming ancestral light….

                    That embraces calm
                                                 In a world lost….

To itself….

Foggia ghetto 
February 23.19

Dawn disguised as sorrow

Dawn disguised as sorrow 
Stands before the wintered plain

A wolf track fills with snow….

Crow lands….
Shaking its shimmering being
From the solitude of flight….

Winter
                  Winter

The badger watching….

Mahago domiutz ehiwoh
(Walking badger said this)
January 10,19
Bologna Italy

Waking to a yellow poisonous sky in Paris

Waking to a yellow poisonous sky in Paris

A dark kitten purrs softly on my hotel window ledge….

I cross the early empty streets toward a taxi….

Heavy fog at gateway

Small rabbits running across the tarmac….

In the airport lounge in San Francisco hours later

Sipping an old crow and seven…..

Later in a rainstorm in a phone booth

I light a cigar….

Drifting toward a waking dream….

A white field of broken skulls in Yemen

The only darkness the holes….

Where their eyes were…

Lines from a revisited image

Bologna 1.11.19

What has arrived out of this silence

What has arrived out of this silence
Secretly kept….silence of tears…

Silence of years….

The one who has slept to waken to the shining you
Left behind….

A shining so pure so alone….
Standing now by an ancient road
Made of blood and stone….

This glass dream that sounds of rain falling….

This dim recognition
Where emptiness folds itself into everything…

The sacred

Watching from a distance….

Edges 
November 18,18