MEMORIAL

One day,
they built their hut
on a flat plain of rock
along the winding banks
of the river sky.

Only the dried out husks
of their children's children
remained.

Elsewhere, the descendents
of their distant relatives
discovered traces of their imprints,

and at night,
around a bonfire,
they sung their story
up into the tumbling sparks
of the stars.

SELF PORTRAIT BY LOGICAL DEDUCTION

The implication of the design suggests an artifice,
and an artifice implies a Creator. The relationship that Creator ends up having with its creation could go many ways. By virtue of having described that a creator has produced a body of work, it is implicit that this Artisan operates within measurable limits. The truth can only be arrived at through an analogous algebraic equation, this is a fundamental condition of perception described by Kant.

It's where Faith meets Physics.

It is possible to begin imagining the shadings of the contours
of our celestial face upon the unspiralled deeps;
for there to be a Universe immediately
implies a Keep, a terraspatial aquarium,
a crystal ball in a vacuum in a sealed off pressurized chamber.

Imagination begins in trying to picture the Keepers.

It really begins to pick up when a route and itinerary
is outlined with the intent of tracing a path back to
our natural habitat. This would be like a goldfish
planning to escape and return to a koi pond in Japan.

Except for the fact we are not goldfish, but homo sapiens.
--Or are we?: Shading the profile of the jawline, to merge
into shadow, beneath twinkling pinpoints, in cavernous sockets.
Framed by a vast canvas of space.

MEMENTO

There is no other way to describe the sensation of
there is no other way to unscry
there is no other way,
there is no other,
there is no there.

There is nothing
there is nothing I can do
there is nothing I can do to understand
that there is no way for you to understand it
in the way that I do,

The way that I do
the way that I do this is
the way that I do this is by easing into it,
easing into inscribing the inexplicable for you
and your eyes to fathom
the light sinking from
the bottom

where our drifting away from it all
meets in a haloed crowning
passing on like a cloud
or any other dirty
memory saved,
any other memory
saved for another day.

no memory is the same twice
no memory is the same
no memory
none.

CLOSET FUEL

he was just a little kid and when he goggled
throught the park the tulips

something was wrong with them.
they seemed
clearer than everything else,
more focused.

he skipped on down the park and whistled around
the fountains to glance

they hummed noiselessly.

he dashed out through the gates and straight
home where his mother

her eyes were so bright

OLD POEM

What terrifies me is the silence before you speak.
It fills my world and I find myself in the desert.
There is one horizon, of which I am the center.
My heartbeat fills the sky

HALO

under clarion rings
our fingers crawl
back to the caves
of our hands

a shattered keep now
moans in the wind
a soft fist is made

over which the city
resurrects
its elf

crowned
echo

ALL THINGS GOOD

Let me hear of all things good
crisp and icy firewood
chimney smoke warm puffing soft
from white rooftops sloped aloft
bells ring out through crystals falling
all things good gently calling

Whisper to me all good things
ruby wine glass toasting rings
tin cups clink on street corners cold
teddy bears wink at bed stories told
cold soaking mittens hang from wire
all good things thaw by the fire

And someone surely somewhere dies,
biting frost that freeze shut eyes

Let me hear of all good things
though winter bites and sharp sleet stings
and some of us won't hear the rings
when the New Year brings on all good things . . .