The Dawn That Fills the World.

The Dawn That Fills the World

The spot between a rock and a hard

place is where I want to be right now.

In the middle of it all, in between it all.

Just like something out of a horror movie.

I guess nothing makes much sense right now,

but in time, it will, just like the sun will rise

over the earth each day,

and the night will melt with dew.

The seasons will change. Day to day, everything

changes at the heart of the world,

and the world is at the heart of it all.

We are one. We are the earth.

The soil rises up out of the darkness like a song,

rises up, the flower pushes past its roots

and sings to the dawn that fills the world.

I AM A WHOLE BIRD.

The moon goes round the sun.
In bitter reverie.

I am a whole bird,
trying to stay free.

Caught in mid-flight,
I don't know where to turn.

I wish to go out tonight,
it is what I yearn.

Moonbird, moonbird,
you flock the world,

gentle word,
feathers unfurled.

I KNOW WHAT I KNOW.

So I know what I know

is a feeling that I know

in my heart and in my mind

I rescue myself alone.

I heal my heart that has been

wounded

by an arrow

the love of my life left me

for dead

piercing the veil of the shiniest star

that looks down on me

with good tiding.

I have a misfortune to love

what I love and to know what I know.

Everything else is transient.

SPIRALING.

I am spiraling out of control.

Downward I go like a whirlpool.

My mind is a whirlpool that goes

and goes.

I am tapping my innermost force to

be reckoned with.

I eat salad like there's no tomorrow.

Drink a powdery substance until I am

bled dry.

I am a weathered vein.

I peel and fold

like a potato that is withered like

a stem.

I am gone.

I come.

MY BEAUTIFUL JAMAICA

I do not lie above the rest

my heart is at rest it is beating steady

Jamaica will always be my home

the clear blue waters the birds

making a nest in my roof

the old man selling fish on the wharf

Saturday comes and it is church time

I close my eyes and see my beautiful Jamaica

an old man is whistling as he walks by

my vision

an old man is calling

In the end I am in Brooklyn, New York,

selling jewelry on the side of the busy street,

looking for a way to buy a butter roll,

and the man at the counter eyeing me suspiciously.

In my beautiful Jamaica no one thought I was a stranger.

Here there are strangers everywhere.

IT'S FOREVER

IT'S FOREVER

Print is stuck forever in my mind.

It lacks on wind of chance and stormy days.

On the end of promise and poverty,

nothing is secret not the wind, not the wind,

not the rain that falls in sheets.

I found myself walking like a shadow born from pain,

in my heart and in my head. I am one with the wind.

While tending the lion, I ask myself do you know what

you're tending or who? What flock, what face in the mist?

Happiness glows and glows and glows

and I am standing here, waiting for the bus boy to relinquish me

of my stale food and old plates at a restaurant downtown.

THE HIPPO SAYS TO TRY HARDER.

THE HIPPO SAYS TO TRY HARDER

I told myself I wouldn't dance at the wedding

because it would make me look like a goddamn

fool and usually it did because I wasn't always

kept up in appearance sometimes I dressed up

like a hobo to keep the other kids occupied

because I didn't know how to stand on my own

two feet and yesterday was gone just like that

and no more making people laugh but then a new day

was coming and I could make people laugh again

just like every day after that and then one time I

thought I saw a hippo waddling across the road on

my trip to Florida and it smiled at me and I thought

I heard it talk to me in my mind just like animals do

sometimes when they're trying to tell you something

that was rather important more so than necessary

or even quite extraordinary I thought to myself

maybe this wouldn't be such a bad gig after all

you know but maybe I could do a little better at it

and sometimes that's the only thing you need to do,

try harder next time.

THE LIGHT SHONE.

The light shone on the window glass.

Life is passing before my eyes.

I can't find myself listening to reason anymore.

I want to do what I want to do and what I

want to do alone.

My mom is knitting a sweater in the den.

It is getting colder outside.

It is autumn and it is time for baking pumpkin

bread and pumpkin cookies and making pumpkin

spice,

and time for Halloween and jack-o-lanterns and

everything in between.

I don't want Halloween to come.

I want to stay cooped inside though reading books

and watching television but meanwhile my life is

passing before me at each and every waking moment,

and I try and try to put it back together before it falls apart

like it always does, as it is falling apart now,

I am going one way and life is going another.

This is how it is going to be from now on.

This is how it will be every waking moment of my day.

Me going one way and the world going another.

It is getting colder outside and I am painting a picture

of autumn leaves falling,

and my mind is not on anything else.

YOU ARE.

You Are

The clash between beasts is utterly complete.

She speaks to me through her words.

Time is like a transcending void.

I am utterly whole.

The foreign land glares in the distance,

we go by boat, not by shore.

In the rising sun we find different ways

to keep us from floating out to sea,

from the rising sun to the horrid moon,

to the day that breaks and bends,

I am here waiting for you, my love,

as the tide fades away.

You are the river that waits for me.

I am the course of the action in the void,

I am the darkness that seeks out darkness,

I am the wading of the tide.

Night hides from me. It is broken.

The seeds of the grapes have been bitter and weep;

I weep along with it.

Nothing comes short of darkness,

bitterness fades to gray.

I am the wholeness and the light,

the darkness does not take me,

nor will take me in the night.

You are whole with me.

You are the grape to my strawberry.

MYSELF LOOKING.

MYSELF LOOKING

I found myself looking

at the glow of the lights of

the city

and everything looked surreal

in the dark

like in every house there were people

living sleeping playing

in all hours of the moonlit night

shadows bounced on the leaves

of the trees because the wind was

blowing

and it ruffled my hair and I called

out to you in the depth of the night

but you didn't answer and refuse

to

answer

still

THE VASE I WAS MAKING.

THE VASE I WAS MAKING

The sand paper rushes against the slowly

turning vase on the pinwheel that doesn't

run as smoothly as I hoped and I looked outside

and the sky was a little wishy-washy and I felt

like I was at the top of the world.

The world had me by the heels and I couldn't shake

off the feeling that something wasn't right and I looked

in my fridge and there was no food there.

The cupboard was bare as well and I got on my coat

and went into the rain and walked down the street

several blocks to get a whole bunch of food to

eat for the next four days and my mind was not

on food at the moment but what I was going to create next

because creating is all I know even more than food.

FOUND MYSELF.

I found myself

deep in a void

I can't get out

I can't refuse to breathe

like water receding

coming back in

the tide jumps

I am the rain

I flock like a flock of

sheep

they flock in meadows

made of pain.

In the summer I will flight

like a sheep that is in fight.

Airplanes run on runways

that are empty and void

I am void too.

DULLY NOTED.

DULLY NOTED

She said it was dully

noted like it was some

kind of perch,

a band of some sort

she didn't particularly like.

She was known for her scones, that tasted bittersweet

as the sky,

and a man who didn't love her but loved her for her

movies.

She was known to be promiscuous, as if that were

a word I would use otherwise,

a mother I never knew about but read about in obituaries.

we are growing...............................................

we are growing

All the ways I found myself

looking at the abyss

that which is the knight

full of light

and life

and yesterday's days

into the night that

is bright

and misery's praise

full of sorrow

and again

we are home

I found myself alone

yesterday's home

tomorrow

like bright as

light in a dark room

full of misery and gloom

like a shadow

WATER.

WATER

The water carries me like a little

bit of a dragon

calm in its wake

like a little bit of night

that is liquid and shimmery

like a shimmery night

in the dark

I am alone

I am not the only one

who is tempted

to take the stone

and throw it in the water

that is also like a willow

that grows in the garden

in the garden where I live.

I am the sister and friend

to water

I am all water

I am the water of good

I am the water of wise

I am tempted

I am not fending

Water goes down in my mind

like the mind that is there

it is my sister

it is my brother

I am not tempted

i want to talk to you the essence of the moon.

I want to talk to you one on one

about my moon problem

that seems to be heaven's problem

as well

like a flight in fright

like dracula's mammoth sized

moonbeam based in a jar

she is shadowed based on yesterday's

dream

that didn't know what it was dipped

in tomorrow as in today

and today as in tomorrow

following fast along the way

we bend and break

like moonbeam's that wans

and waxes

saturday's purse

fallen onto the head of things

like yesterday's strife we

don't know what's best of us

or what's least of us saturday

is more than today

ESSENCE OF EVERY DAY.

ESSENCE OF EVERY DAY

The essence of the self

is to know more than what one

will know

far away like a dream

nothing glows like what it seems

the fireworks of early dawn

encompasses itself

like a morning glow

into ecstasy

a new dawn

comes

falls like shadows in

the midst of it all

nothing comes without

all of us falling into

sorrows of doubt

in it we will not find out

the other thing that doesn't

stand out in the middle of

morning

into the neverending

void

you don't know how long

you'll

live or

even die in the neverending

veil of life

long-lived

tonight is the night

sacrifice

is imminent

SNOW.

THE SNOW EGRET

The snow egret is large

as a mountain in the summer

against the powdery blue sky

just yesterday I said to myself

I wish I was a bird and I could fly

anywhere through the clouds

that mend and mold my future

any day of the month it can turn

fresh and sour and I don't know what to

do with myself because everything seems

and sounds too complex

and complicated

and everything that works

PROGRAMMED.

PROGRAMMED

We have been programmed to hate

everybody

the mailman the minorities

even the people who wear jeans

and have flowers in their ears

I don't know why we hate

everything or don't know much

about history

but it's still staring at you

the way a man stares at his

beautiful wife

ignorant of life as it

passes you by

ignorant of anything you

chose not to see

like when someone loves

you we don't know why

and when someone hates you

everyone tells you everything

about the hate and when and why

love isn't catching it is like dandelion

fluff that catches on the breeze

and sometimes you don't know anything

about the people who love you

but you wish you did.

Because that's what makes the world

go round not cars or even the depths

of space

which is dark and round as your heart.

poem.

The alien forgot where he was and wondered down a path that was lit with white noise and he didn't understand where to turn and where to go this is planet you know something that moves around the sun and doesn't fade forever we remain in this slumber like the hands of time rocking outside your eyes the night comes from dew and within everything is broken and the same.