NUMBER 233

when i was young and clear with love
and every breath was full of song
i’d sit within the highest tree
and every leaf would smile to me
i didn’t care to be alone
western winds would whisper poems

when i was young i’d harmonize
’til every tune was in my face
the wrens and robins joined my voice
and soon a choir became rejoice
when i was young and clear with love
when i was young and soaked with love

when i was young and love was young
my every pore was still in tune
i’d spread my ears to every chord
when i was young and clear with love
when i was young and soaked with love
when i was young, when i was young

now i am old and clear with wisdom
my body wrinkled in a prayer
my heart grows tired with every anthem
my soul is still a shining jewel
i sing all day but very softly
when i am old and filled with grace

Number 232

NUMBER 231

we stood in the middle
of the crossroads,
three of us.
two roads pointing
in different
directions, we spoke in whispers
our voices
echoed
across
the fields
he, with the fuzzy face,
placing each syllable
in a special spot
on my soul
each word removed a chunk of me.
she, in her small way,
had no face
only bright, shining, intense heat.
the scorching sun melted tears.
they walked straight ahead
i turned left
i didn’t dare look
back
they had forgotten me
they were
erased

NUMBER 230

christmas lights dim
                voices fall from floating
                  incense and candle smoke
                                      mix with wind
tranquil shapes hold blessings
                     there is absolute solitude
'when no one is listening
                           it's     time for drums'
                                    the beat of the drums is sacred
      do not speak         do not move              do not breathe
             sanctus              sanctus                  sanctus
      

Number 229

the amount of wine he left in the bottle
   was minimal
        it was almost nothing.
he spoke of the vineyards
                visited in France
                  sometimes he was the only guest,
a table was set just for him.
         i could picture him feeling like
                                        a prince or king,
                                       tasting an elixir, 
smiling widely as he swallowed the magic.

we talked for several hours
            remembering acoustical wonders
                                   where he played and i sang
                                   music had held us very close
                                   to each other
now we were joined by a thin vapor
                      a fragile remembrance
next day when i drank the remaining wine
              i smiled and tasted our good fortune 
                              

NUMBER 228

the sound of the power wash from next door
reminded me of the presence of pterodactyls
from long gone centuries
                in the early morning they would circle our valley
                      searching for prey,
baby pterodactyls would mimic the flight of their elders
             they would swoop without reason

               we would hide all day
                       while    they hunted
                   our own smell          disguised
                                with
                           stegosaurus blood
in deep night we crawled among  low    bushes
        never moving a leaf or branch
                           foraging for left over insects and 
                             mammals
hoping there was enough for the cooking fire in the cave
             we had not been discovered
                    no human touched by the thrashing beaks
early morning came               we slid back to our caves
                   renewed our cover

all day as we slept
           we could hear the powerful wings flapping and soaring
we prayed to the fire gods            and the night gods 
                      for protection
                      from    extinction

Number 227

watching the late autumn sky
descending, darkening, touching
the garden
calla lilies are softly humming
lightly skipping
sweetly singing
a mandarin, a tangelo and a sumo orange
watch with me and smile
toward the perrier can
subtle breezes move everything
in this moment we are all safe
under the eyes of the St.Francis fountain within the care of wandering cats
a swaying pink hyacinth lounges in the shadowing window

Number 226

i was listening to Tony Bennett

and suddenly i was dancing with my mother,

my mama,

my kasha

she looked at me and said, “you’ve gotten older.”

“it’s been a long, long time. i’m eighty-two”

“noooooooo.”

she said with that deep, loud, sound

which brought me to life so long ago

she was still

slightly over five feet tall

and her energy

was as bubbling and positive as ever

she was still like a little refrigerator

‘your dancing has improved’

a Jerome Kern album was playing ‘Make Believe’

i started to hum and she harmonized in an almost lush alto sound

‘happy mother’s day mom’

why did you decide to come back today?’

‘i never left. i’ve been here all the time.”

noooooooo,’ i said imitating her.

i could never let go.

and you and christie have fallen upon some hard times.’

‘you can say that again. you know christie?’

‘i picked her. she loves you so much.’

‘is this a dream?’

‘everything’s a dream.’

‘let’s dance some more.’

 

{for Kasha}

 

Number 225

Jack of Christ you are the one.

It seems that we have free wills,

Our destiny is in our own hands,

We can help each other work through things.

and then you stage a debacle like last night

seven card stud with four players

You were so innocently coy

Mary and Joseph played along like good parents

knowing that you were slyly stacking cards

occasionally allowing one of us to win

Joseph of Gentleness you are another one

standing by your son so casually

proudly beaming at his beautiful sermons

his magic tricks with loaves and fish

                         yet when you gaze into his soul

you are touched by unfathomable love,

so bright, so hot, so healing, so thorough,

that you can levitate above the masses

and feel an unholy burst of energy

which protects everyone in the crowd

Mary conceived without sin

                  you are the halo which shines everywhere

burrowing into the depths of every heart

filling each prayer with motherglow

walking with smooth silent steps

                     i  nvisible but omnipresent
exuding silky radiance

                disappearing into the ether
floating in a seamless largo dance

Being here, being there,      a vaporous presence

and yet the holy trinity is diluted in the sunrise

almost non-existent in the noise of civilization

somewhere a sacred thought pushes through the garbage

begins to sprout with the pale green of life

the atmosphere is laden with smog, sin, greed and gold

stunted love lies underground waiting to be nourished

kindness gazes from faraway mountains

It is time to find your voices in Alleluia

It is time to sing and chant a Sanctus

It is time to remember our Resurrections

Number 224

turning back the pages
                    of
                    one minute
                           requires
                          centuries
                      sighs,screams,
                  laughs,jubilation,
                  births,    deaths,
                  blooming,  fading,
                              all
                              beg
                              for
                              one
                           chancetorecreate
                           change each moment
                            brighten every scene
                              deepen all darkness
trillions of minutes
endless        pages
a tome   will   open
flap in the  wind
clash in a   different
                  century

only the scribes will notice and continue to mark the present