Echoes

Words beckon from the alley next to the cinema--
Whispers of need from a gangmember
In want of a drug-- lying there to bleed.

Reverberations of celebration in a kiss that says
I've missed you. Wanting nothing more than
just a gentle smile. Caught up in the rapture
of a love so new, a love so wild.

Sirens singing into the night. Help is on the way.
Saviours come in an ambulance of white.

The soft falling of a single tear. On a park bench
She's crying for someone who is no longer here.

Noise! Horns blaring cab drivers staring at what
they can never have. But boys will be boys.

And my love marks time like the ticking of a clock:
What else is forever for?

All these sounds and many more
echo off blacks walls in a house full of stars.

1995?

Firefly

My grandfather used to watch me
                                     watching fireflies
blink yellow light in the black night
He watched me till my past sunset
He watched me till his own sun set...

My heart goes out to her
as she waits for the truck to start
my heart goes out to them
as they stand; no longer far apart
i close my eyes
and see his heart give out again
God- why did you take my friend.
He was my only friend
the only one who would listen.

But i see my grandfather's blue eyes while
my son watches the fireflies
and it seems all right...

Maybe you needed someone to listen to You,
Oh my Lord, maybe you needed a friend too.

6.16.2005

La Tormenta Del Verano

Estan nublando
Y mi corazon es confuso tambien.
El silencio es todo en la ciudad
Y el silencio es todo en el mente.
Entonces...
Entonces la lluvia.
Llover en las calles.
Llover en las ciudades.
Llover en las tierras.
Llover en las paises.
Llover en la vida.

Storm in Spring

Clouds gathering
and my heart is confused.
The city is quiet,
Silence is total in my mind.
Then...
Then comes the rain.
It is raining in the streets
       raining on the cities
       raining on the houses
       raining in the country,
       raining in my life.

7.26.1995

Terrapindulum

A lonely soldier sends back to camp on a fire made for two. Guidance for Sherman on his way to the sea. Faint glimpses are all we see now. Clever whispers from someone we want to tell us how.
Give me that bread! But it's the last piece.
              so              hungry...
If wonders never cease why are there only eight in the whole world.
And why in the world do we wait.
                                       We wait for someone to tell us how.
We want for someone to tell us they care. But someone comes along and tells the soldier how to light the fire.
Gather the wood; strike the match.
I tell myself I can't but I know if I tried I could. Been living and dying a lie.
Sherman knows the way to the sea. Doesn't need my help to find east. So i sit by the road and shoulder the burden of four years of giving and trying. Trying not to cry in front of Brother Turtle. War up ahead war behind. Will I find what I'm looking for, or will I wind up dead? The tortoise is old and thinks slower than he talks; walks slower than he thinks. Yet he may answer if I help him across the road.
The road you seek is the east but not the east of war. You are unexpected yet longed for.
You are unknown yet familiar.
He climbed to the top of the long log and sat next to me, shell straight, paws politely folded below the chin.
You look to the north and south of your mind and think the war is that which you will either lose or win. But who will win the peace?
I've been marching through all the sunsets this southern land has to offer. Hell and death before peace they scream as they spit musketballs from trees.
War is but a general agreement of dissatisfaction. Find your own peace; let others find their own way.
So it is peace i seek? Lying back against the fallen oak with my feet pushed out on sandy earth i try to remember long ago dreams of harmony.
My friend, he laughed his turtle laugh, serenity seeks you with an open heart and clear blue eyes. Her hair ripples out from her perfect face as blond as the rays of the sun. I have seen her through store front windows, and through shelves of glass witnessed her gentle hand.
To find this treasure without a map. I do not think I can. But the turtle wasn't listening to me. He moved along the log to chew some moss at the other end.
Worthy is the wait: for a strong love needs a strong heart, he said at last. He looked at me with his turtle eyes, blinked once, twice, then asked me to help him down. I wondered at how I could feel such a loss from something I never had as I lowered him gently to the ground.

11.18.1996

Awakening

Sleep comes with the gentle steps of an approaching day.

Only when the night-time demons abate can he find a

brief respite. Settled.

In the mire.

If he struggles he knows he will only sink faster. Power:

seems always to be at his fingertips,

but he cannot hold it in his hands,

cannot lift it,

cannot pull it into his chest. Money:

flows like water, and his earnest efforts seldom

result in better than ramshackle irrigation.

On his twenty-nineth birthday

he stares agape through pale, slate windows

at half-humans... looking for some hint of recognition,

some glimpse of hope.

He tries to build a home of his own,

never fully realizing the truth.

Days fly like pages of a book blown by a strong wind.

For years his determined efforts have seemed

clumsy and awkward.

Like constructing a house with no plans, skill,

or experience. No.

He knows that if he falls the angels will lift him up.

So though the way is hard his steps are steady.

And every day he is winning the war and losing the battles

of his life.

He stares out of the hollowed window-hole of adobe,

rain on his face

and stars in his eyes.

8.24.1994

We

The greening of the eyes move too soon across the field where sight gives way to blinding sun. A hawk sighs along a pocket of warm air moving above us. I dry the cautious tears let fall by a heart too heavy to bear the weight of two. The bluing of the sky mourns the loss of the heaven's bright protector and pulls a blanket of stars slowly close for comfort. But the Creator's food chain is only as weak as its strongest link. And the soul of the gazelle moves into the spirit of the lion for one loose stone-- one off-balanced hesitation. The blacking of the night marks the winding path of least resistance which proves to be more unlucky than not. I smile. We: are like animals in our king-size quilted ocean of aggression; like humans with our self-conscious suspicions; and, like gods in our gently compassions...

12.16.1996

September Remembers

your love crashes over me like a wave
from the sea and it saves me...
you believe in me as you breath life into me
i hear the whisper of the word that was made
just for us, trust is the ink and hope the pen
that moves gently over paper in creation of that word: Love.

let it always be like this, when it never begins
with a kiss but merely a glance that speaks
of a deep regard that is clearly romance.
Our eyes lock, twist, bend, then blend.
We cannot resist falling in love all over again.
Then i touch your hair with my hand
while outside it rains and thunders and we are warm.
Our love is rare and i try not to understand
or explain, why i keep falling for you out of the blue
like the first drop of rain from a summer storm.

9.4.2006