Accept (I am as I am)
Grand glowing Sun
eclipsed on the river.
River run true rumination.
The river loves
in her own fashion.
Murky, long flirtation with mysteries
we are born to yearn for.
Consummation may be our last reward.
Caressed by satin water
hot and cold
element controlled, ever free.
more sensual than air
more loquacious than Earth
more secure than fire
We can discover,
transmute along the river
never noticing how everything
Air giving way to water.
Arid emptiness anticipates days filled with
emotional sailing on vast
turbulent (and/or) calming seas.
Time’s a’clanging, impatient clamors
for unknown seasons.
sends tidings, murky repentance and
beard for tears.
Savage rain tip-tapping
rhythms and blues.
Barrels for dipping, for ritual
washing, for tribal hydration, replenishment.
hunger, health, hygiene. Sordid rain,
ashen water, terror, pain, diluted
Storm warnings advise caution.
Cover yer windows and blinds.
Hide in cellars and pray.
Find salvation in fearsome company.
Oh, Hell – give in! Cave into slippery ground;
swallow and be swallowed.
The rains came, carried fortune to further shores
Long into unspoken tomorrows.
Steady chilly rain of
irritations, build into pools of
rage, a sea of tears.
Paddling, that old canoe splinters through.
Dreary, filthy floodwater, always needs bailing.
I am sore with life,
bruised, blood-stained, a sorry sight.
I cry out to Gaea’s strength, brutal acceptance.
My body aches to mend in healing
bend and release,
dance, deeply breathing puissant sea air.
Expanding horizons beckon. Waves of welcome
extend hand to hand,
beyond gravity, allure of serene
ease. Feel the moonlight,
gently embrace, then,
twirl me grandly into cosmic glee.
Exhilaration, peace beyond compassion,
beyond evidence of empty space between.
Ebb and flow. Drought and tsunami.
Guiding beacon, or oncoming train.
The underworld is flooded, rotting
stench escalates to outrage.
We on the surface busily scramble
to survive. In this torrent of madness
floats keys to magical caverns beneath ocean swells.
It is a fine era for purveyors of diving gear
and we with will to learn
new methods of breathing.
Reefs on a sea
to eventual fruitions downstream
Like stone soup
picking up valuable
bits and pieces
adhering into wealth
Casting nets for silver fish
Panning for nuggets
Leisurely sipping cool drinks
to the song of ocean waves
Open your veins unto the
ocean floor at midnight
drinking cool salty life
into your lungs
Who you ever were matters not
A creature of sea-change
Swimming in the dream, occasional moments of lucidity
Yet, still, it is the dream, dark matter of my mind
There again those iconic structures, melting into mist,
into another round on the kaleidoscope to a calliope drone.
I swim, eerily quiet, through gem-encrusted caverns.
There are hieroglyphs, familiar yet unreadable,
etched onto the walls and crustacea.
Limpid oyster eyes, yes there’s a crust of sleep dust
someday to fester into a luminescent pearl —
treasures beyond compare, beyond price,
way out beyond the market universe.
Swimming, a water ballet, so intimately aware of
each measured movement
it doesn’t matter how the background keeps shifting.
I will merge with its becoming,
allow imminent floods
to rise into thirsty pores
rendering sand squishy, unsettling
into ocean floor.
Ride with me.
Open raft beneath firmament,
unguided, unplanned, unafraid.
rainy day muse
My eyes desire beauty
Big words like Eternity
Rank rivers etch an inner sea
to slide my body down
Tired, tied to worldly gray
Terrified, fire-cracked clay
Weary, wary, castaway
Willingly I drown
But, wait, a wandering sailor cries
Worlds of welcome in her eyes
A feast of solace, wildly wise
my story spins toward peace
Water falls expiring thirst
Lilt of light on ripples flirts
Plays my eyes in laughing spurts
Bright beauty of release
A Dream of Water
Water means secrets
Something deeply buried
Moving, unconsciously, through
Pools of sacred transformation.
Or sex. Or money.
That which flows,
Yet never without consequence.
Deeply felt; deeply brought in
To those secret liquid pathways
Etching out existence as
We know it.
A dream of water is a prophecy
Written into the DNA,
Waiting for the day to manifest.
It is a dream about secret dreams,
That which cannot be named.
That which is always present.
Somehow the source is speaking
Perhaps in rhyme and metaphor,
Yet speaking still, insistently.
Let it insinuate into all the senses,
Let it speak.
Times are tentative.
I cannot always know what
Is safe to say. Or whisper.
The dream tells me that
There are secreted beaches
In the cacophony and stench
Of the callous city.
Places meant for refuge, re-creation.
They are hidden from the hostile streets,
But hardly peacefully obscure.
The hordes are slipping through the
Tear in the chain-linked fence,
Pushing, uncaring, blindly moving
Toward the sand.
They push and tumble into the ocean,
Far too overwhelmed by their numbers,
No room! No room!
“But there’s plenty of room,”
Roar the jolly clowns
Like over-inflated plastic beach toys.
I must escape the suffocation.
The tunnel out is too small, stifling.
I must crawl, on my knees,
Pulling myself forward
With each wisp of breath.
There is no end,
I am certain.
Just agonizing suffocation,
Superhuman effort again and again.
Until the city reappears.
It is different; it is quiet.
Everyone is at the beach,
Reveling in the sunlight.
Here it is dark. Practically empty.
The store windows are lighted
For the night display, muted,
It is a long comforting walk
In the night air.
But this is a dream of water.
There, that endless, inky lake,
Reaching out past north and south
Deep, solid, dense, darkly opaque,
I look out over the iron edge of the bridge
Upon which I gently walk along the pavement.
There are two children on the bridge,
Shining softly in the way
That happy children do,
In the water’s protective embrace.
I see a bowl of water Deepest indigo An image of Goddess dancing with God, deep within the water expressing transient quality of dance, expressing moment to moment in body bliss in deep commitment to the flow Drink the image, dance to the magic Feel deeply Feel joy
Salt, taste of the sea in our souls scenting waterfalls of agony, remorse, love unrequited seasoning the lingering days remembrance of soft summer nights by the sea, by the lute of starlight.