Sonnet 3

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Apr 162012

My backpack is weighted with lilies and candles.
I cross argent mountains and oceans to reach you.
I throw a tasseled rug before you
And stare into wide eyes no longer dull,
Passing the carafe until dawn fills us
With rock-candy colors, and our smiles are tired
From talking too animatedly wired
While night cloaks his blue frills around us.

How long have I walked to find your country?
How long had I slept till I dreamed of you?
How long has my desire kept me swimming?

Toward you, toward you, my dear, I am swimming!
My breath breaks the surface seeking shores of you!
Coming home to your eyes, I sing “‘Tis of thee!”

Sonnet 4

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Apr 162012

I know you minimally only,
The way a head knows hair: an invisible halo,–
The way a sleepwalker knows life: fully lonely
As a blind hand walking across a mirror.
I know you only as a keel knows water:
I divide and unite your surfaces endlessly and seamlessly,
Never knowing the wet of your green interiors.

But I know you will know me completely.
You will know me without any deceit,
For deceit’s too weak to withstand your winds–
The hurricanes that live in your laughter
Announcing: “It is she!” And I’ll stand
Open to you totally, a book without a binding,
And our eyes will share tears simple as water.

Sonnet 5

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Apr 162012

Let us play a game then, you and I.
Let the table be raised beneath the sky,
Let the drums be drummed, and on it lie.

Smoky women bear their burning tapers nigh,
Dwarves with gongs come clanging, by-and-by.
Everyone take your seats, let the last one in,
The ceremony of sex is about to begin.

My hand finds you, your hand unknots my tie,
Lips as lithe as fishes sip, and we let slip
Our final disguise. Now at last in naked night
We plunge the utter dark with light caresses.

Touching the matter to the heart, they bless us.
For you and I are nothing, when this is,
When we are one thing, one mass of blessings.

Sonnet 6

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Apr 162012

Magnolia petals on a tank… fall lightly…
As they fall… on everything, being
The pink delirious things they are.

Philosophers in their overcoats construe
More meaning than meaning thinks its due,
Being the grey barristers of the real
They be. But you, sweating in your spring attire,
Visit devastation on the sweet magnolia tree,
Declawing its blossoms… and trimming the wings
Of birds as they return to their warm abode.

For you the poet unfolds his ode.
For you the tank stutters in its tracks.
For you the petals in my stark heart
Fall in flattering loveliness… for a start.

Sonnet 7

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Apr 162012

It’s enough. To play with scarves in summer air
Is enough. The weaving and the waving
Of their colors in the fresh summer air
Is enough. There is no more to be waved
Or to be woven than what has already occurred.
No past is prologue when the moment’s all.
Look how brightly the colors wave and curve!
The summer air is here, and that is all.

The summer air is heavy in the mind,
The mind is old and full of dusty thoughts:
How this becomes that, how the child crawls into the man;
Colors wave and curve, and I calculate their sine.
–Ai! You cover me with a hundred scarves uncaught,
And the summer air is bright with omen.

Sonnet 8

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Apr 162012

What is time, and how is it our own?
I will not recognize the clock hours maybe,
So bee-like diligent to my task I am,
Or, grown slowly thoughtful looking out to sea,
Time slips by lightly that would govern me.
My time feels most my own when you and I
Together spend the gold moments given:
Pointing at Venus in her drape of sky,
Or doubling-up downright–with laughter shaken.
Or when moony looks imbue you, dear,
(If I’m not mistaken) the way a clear
Pond becomes clouded with the thought of rain
Or a mother disappears into her child’s pain.
We keep time most when we give all our own.

Sonnet 9

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Apr 162012

The fierce being you would have spring from you
Will yet spring. The life your life trembles to beget
Is waiting in your snowy body curled.

She shall from your eyes drink the honied fire,
And her breath your breath will yet sustain,
Inspiring in her unborn eyes a thousand worlds.

The new-made woman who will step like brightness
Too bright to look at–dances in your likeness
When before the mirror you test your tresses.

This phantom of your future self shall come yet:
And every diamond be her birthright,
And every river flutter like her caress.

Oh little mother frowning brownly so,
Let one small smile be born upon you now.

Sonnet 10

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Apr 162012

If Cezanne painted you, what village would you be?
What pair of Monet’s haystacks, soft,
And glistening in sunlit serenity?
To me, too close, you are a crosshatch, crossed
With empty diamonds and abrasive lines,
A certain blotchey rosacea of the soul
Yanking your kite-string down from the divine;
From the eternal you wither into the small.

Here is where we meet, knees beneath the table,
The traffic staticy, the world unstable
That goes zagging through the fog beyond us.

In our discussion’s no accordance–
We’re as different as figs, as cracks
In the Old Masters, two needles in the haystack.

Sonnet 11

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Apr 162012

The blossoms that stood out on the branch
Now blow along pavement wet with runoff;
Fall gave way to winter, and winter now to March
When early flowers crowd and then fall off.
It is almost too much of the coming thing,
This blizzard of blossoms after blizzard in earnest
Before the azalea really get going–
Such hazardous blooming should be in jest.
Almost too much… with the excited whites
Boating toward oblivion in the gutter
Where the storm drain lurks, all appetite,
And the dark beyond the grate is utter.
There’s much to consider while we sit as one,
Touched blonde by the sun,–but no longer young.

Sonnet 12

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Apr 162012

Calm as ponds let yourself be today.
Leadeth thyself to lie down, shut off the TV,
Hear the million bees murmur rumor of plenty
While kids race at recess in unharried play.
Peace, peace be on your sensitive eyes,
Your fingers steady as new radial tires;
Put up your feet, you’re off the highwire,
Each exhale sails another balloon to the sky….
May contentment come and tuck you in,
Pull the clean sheet right up to your chin,
Sing lullabies and lieder until you believe
No one you know will ever again grieve.
Today take this prayer, and light a tea candle:
Whatever comes your way you can handle.