Uncategorized

Burning Bodhisattva Tree

Our Tree of Life burns,

self-immolating inside out,

charred stench of commodifying human flesh,

entrapping memories grown commercial,

messages without information,

histories without cultures.

 

Language primally embracing rooted systems in our racing,

breeding search for compost

not yet fracted and extracted

from angry longing

for simply belonging,

seeding Earth’s surface

to recover shade

from our own souled out burning despair.

 

Screaming voiceless stream of speciating suicide,

passion flight of fire.

 

Hard endings measure soft beginnings,

to turn one last time in hope

for faith to love peace sufficiently

to thrive through flame’s winged purge,

singed yet sung snug,

resting nest of painful longing

to fly one last sacred arc beyond

this softly falling dark horizon.

 

We seem to die

to learn to fly together.

Standard
Uncategorized

Informed Flight

We fly together

or crawl separately

our choice

to in-formate

or calculate irrationally

too negative

forgetting (0) graced balance

and octave harmonies of imagined flights

with extended family,

birds and butterflies

comets and stars

leptons and quarks,

surfing up and down

around and back again.

 

We fly together, or dissonantly burn and bury

and throw ourselves,

our nutrients,

away…

where they will

eventually

learn to crawl together

toward regenerating flight.

Standard
Uncategorized

Angelic Loss

Where is the boy

who laughs at rain,

stares past grey clouds

wandering why so blue

our sky

our sea-salt tears

of sense-filled pain?

Where is this boy?

 

He never said goodbye.

This boy went on to make his way alone.

He had no choice

or so he thought

with stardust gray bright eyes.

 

Where is this man

whose passion cries with pain

for who we could be,

should be?

Where is this redeemer

who stares past sun

wondering why so black

behind each face

of human place

sleeps deep inside with strain.

 

Where is my place,

my time in space

to see your eyes

glint through dark clouds

to wrap your face in mine?

 

When is our time

to rise with shining blue night song,

to dance our way toward where we were

before we lost our minds,

to when we were a white cloud day

to  play our work

and work our play.

I loved our eyes

that laughed at rain because we had each other.

 

Where is that man who was a boy

whose place was time

we could not spend forever?

He flew apart with wings outspread

too young to learn we only fly together.

 

If we could stop this time to live apart,

I’d find a place where time could find you

holding us forever;

through time to fly

and then to die to fly again

together.

 

Dedication: for Jerome, and boys who love angels

7/26/2014

 

 

 

 

Standard