24 Poems ~ 24 Hours
Anchored and waiting
calm seas under marble-blue sky
dreaming about land
Archipelagos
long to sail on oceans wide
leave countries behind
In the bay, we sleep
our boat swaying with the waves
and green-blue sea dreams
(22 June 2019, Hour 4)
Higher
Ever higher
My gaze rises
High above verdant treetops
Above triumphant mountain peaks
Vaults the punctured backdrop
Ever expanding
Universe exhaling
Faster
Ever faster
Higher
Ever higher
Zenith and beyond
Shimmering
Shining
Burning
Eternity unfolding
Eternally resounding
The great remnant called apocalypse
Our origins start
In secrecy
Our life shrouded
In mystery
from conception
Our birth is celebrated
For the human
They believe
You will become.
Our soul
Is claimed by
Others
Until we fade
Into the ashes
Upon our final breath.
I will not shrink from being who I am
In these the last days
I am resolute
I will not hide from the world my fears
Less still my love
My regrets for the past
And a future that will not be
In my heart I planned for this
Though I hoped I would be wrong.
Now I am sure with a surety that cannot be shaken
Though I try, and succeed for breathless moments
To forget that I am the harbinger of doom
Black crow to a world that kills elephants
And bees, flowers and the roots of rain forest trees
Knowing extinction of the world we knew
Is inevitable. Tomorrows will not come for us
The bright and shining days of childhood
Are dark now. Where light once pierced the night
Dawn is too heavy a curtain.
I am powerless to push aside the velvet pall.
And reveal heavens that once revealed stars.
I am. You are. We are.
My last, your last, our last.
Minutes are long and bleak.
They do not pass like shooting stars
And leave a trail of stardust
Pain is an overwhelming blanket
Repentance cannot throw from heavy hearts
The hours are counting down
I am each minute wholly here
With you in a world that madness conquered
Stolen tomorrows are not hidden
In the treasure troves buried by the oligarchs
Who delivered us by their evil to these end days
Funeral pyres piled high with worthless treasures
From the rooftop on Cannon
we broke jokes like eggs,
begged shingles to hold,
avoided sagging dips.
The moon wasn’t full
felt incomplete. I wanted
the stars to be brighter,
wanted streetlights dimmed
and a better view of my bungalow
three blocks away on Percy, wanted
something better to say. Words
swirled like smoke, rings above us
and out into the city. Three
heartbeats high and open.
Open, close, glide,
slip, slide, flit,
carried along with the trade winds,
from South America to the U.S.,
meandering descent,
alight, rest, sniff,
close wings.
Scent, sweet, nectar,
delicious intent,
probing with a proboscis,
whether orange or flower,
sliced or whole,
honey or raw sugar
all to be suckled
with reverence.
No fear of human aggression,
these are not pests.
If threatened,
open wings,
display magnificence,
geometrical colors and patterns,
which only nature can manifest.
Then suddenly, people pull out
cameras, cell phones, tablets,
“Oh, look, look! A butterfly!”
For this itinerate wanderer
It was all worth it.
This one-way journey,
to feed, to breed,
to beautify.
Snacky sweet and sticky feet
a sensational view
as my friend and I move and eat mechanically and wonder if there’s something more
Do you feel spiritual? No, I am a photographer
Do you drink? No, I cuss
On my walks, I listen to the street signposts
Reality is not always possible or likely – Borges
Hand on the door – anything else?
tomecide
After the last book
So, it begins
Radical evil always appears when a radical good is desired – Arendt
Master of the answer, God tolerates only the question – Jabes
Sometimes a question is the flash of an answer – Jabes
Do not confuse justice and truth – Jabes
You have often been wrong. You are just – Jabes
Perhaps, hope is the book – Jabes
The absurd – my revolt, my freedom, my passion – Camus
Oblivion takes refuge in oblivion _ Jabes
The void is a voyeur – Jabes
This is how it ends
He travels through time without me
loses me as he wanders in decades past
or generations yet to come
I can’t follow him there
see what he smells
paint the views
blank canvases remain untouched
yet touch can bring him back to me
sometimes I hold his hand and hope
and if I’m blessed with success
I pierce the heavens he travels
strains of Moody Blues set his feet to dance
his arms envelop me in yesterday
weave us together in strands of memory
randomly plucked from a mind that wanders
he sails without me now
is not lonely as I who left behind
wander through the world bereft
wondering when he’ll pause again
come back to me just one more time
not to dance assunder but be with me
hold my hand and in my eyes
see love reflected and love recall
My own star
Profound is the night sky
Bathed in a sea of vastness
Jeweled with as many stars
As there are life forms below
There’s also my own star
From which I came
One day to return
Bright and sparkling beside the stars
That others adorn
In the same vastness and luminous
As a child reaches out with its heart
Hour 4