before wisdom comes

we know

hands and trees shall be broken

 

millions of light years

of one small dream

watching over my sleep

 

killing heat the asphalt forecast

our skies overweighted with doubt

will soon collapse

 

long limbs of light climb

where resurrection leads

white leaves appear on willow trees

 

new prints in the forest clay

cumulus builds a sky

whose shadow goes slipping away

 

the audience calls out a name

the name dies instantly, cries to god

is made flesh, bleeds, dies

joins the audience, calls out a name

 

water pulls my secret

deep into its pockets

loves the drowning i do not love

i will know it

    outside the dream

when it comes

    behind the calm

because it breathes

one can heal 

and another is healed by being wounded

the way death stands some people up on their feet

 

 

an old postcard from the rain kneels

in my hand—

this longing for home when there is no shore in sight

 

sunset

because i can die i am living

everyone i love but do not know opening in the wind

 

a monotonous ferry ride 

becomes soil beneath the feet of god 

where the eyes of the dead open and open

 

whose gospel has left my heart unread

whose sun

shall shut my eyes

 

corn and clover

where am i going

the secret never arrives

are you one to dissolve

in the salt of a soul

seeking moist and timid sin

 

untied from its willows

the river dies—

stars graze on time in the desert sky

 

gathered the freedom

to be an anchor

wandering among the waves

 

restoring the egg to its skimpy nest :: gently closing its eye

 

more shadows in my eye than a universe of eyes—old sky as barefoot as birds

 

can you sew me a pocket :: filled with answers and doves

 

always thought water would listen to anyone

mouth of sighs

breath of hearts

 

stepped into life's water

stone without skin

felt for the first time cold winds

 

shall my flame weep in the reign of ash

shall i claim the living pine where mountains die

whose voice has raised a shadowed word

against seas of shattered light

 

glimpsed outside

on a weathered sign—

blood that flows

between two hearts

will never answer to time

 

peace to the death

which becomes a rose

peace to the heart

which greens you

 

our music preserves the echo :: of stones washing the sea

 

inside the dying of my apple tree

the rose is old

the dreams are green

 

the sky you awakened in the eyes of the rain :: holds the moon the night and the reason to remain

 

let wild seed wake before the rains grow old :: before the moon is shut out of your heart

 

washing my poetry i sweeten the sea :: until the green of your island is saved

 

moon sheds moon

opens an infinite eye

the risk of being reborn throbs through the sky

 

to be water that has not found a well

            to die young

                        fallen from a cloud

 

if there is a gate it will be left open

if there is a border may the dead guide you over

but follows no road where it goes

 

birth was a drama that one member of the cast does not remember

 

soul

not substance but naked 

            —voice in a mirror with tiny cracks —

where the other face of night is looking

             —kissed by what the poet sees —

resisting all that falls from god

             —nothing else can be so still

 

just enough darkness to forest the world :: then light dawns in one leaf

 

last drops of rain in hands of a breeze    stirring what others need

 

in the throb beneath a drop of blood :: i feel my wounds at war

 

in the oar i've abandoned i long for the sea

 

when its suffering's washed away :: what remains of clay

 

let's awake in the garden others can't see

            naked as the moon turning dust to dream

 

a crystal drop tips each twig

            chickadee calls drift away

i enter a willow at dusk in the rain

 

does water remember the child in its arms bleeding his beautiful pearls of breath

 

i set out candles at daybreak to keep some darkness near

 

there is sky in my arrow :: there is no path to my sky

 

can you remember the touch of your hand as it gave you the power to heal

 

is memory the only place the dead are given light to see

 

shooting star with the strangest ending :: eyes of the living

 

hands unravel

wheelbarrow topples

soul rejoices in flame

 

shapes created by the gods of pine—

             ships on a cliff

             a cross without arms

 

on which side of my skin is sky

 

i dream of hundreds of broken windows

and of she who reveals

the stone in my heart

 

will there be a brief moment, infinite,

            to take this in—

i have gone the great distance bound in one skin

 

singing to be alone and not alone        sweep sweep my aging path

 

how the cave where we could see really see there are openings

became the star

i hold inside

 

how strange that nowhere should be nearby :: like the wound in my sip of wine

 

my sun is not substance but naked :: to the infinite shadows of light

 

dead wood beautiful failures

forgotten rains

the light that leads my way

 

in the valley that opens when no one is looking :: the seeds of your eyes have been sown

 

there are days windows sleep

            there are days when death hides in yesterday's breeze

why is silence peaceful in a forest of wounded trees

 

a hand reaches down

a friend stays the night

a fly sits in prayer since winter

 

dream looked around inside the child

            found room    burned

                        a Ferris wheel down

 

rain alone there has never been :: rain on morning skin

 

will all that is stone return to flesh

isn't deep where old snows fall

whose hand understands the genius of its palm

 

a circle of stones

where the circle doesn't close

death comes and goes

 

bound together

            grains of sand begin to breathe

we shall hear the oceans drowning

 

strange to be immortal

            stars tasting my mouth

i shall grow a yellow house

 

first day of life

the moon counting

its delicate birds

 

streets walking with their heads held low :: i climb a distant radio

 

what did blue see from its window before it became an eye

 

a voice for things which don't exist :: i am egyptian in silence

 

are the passages missing from my shadow

written

on a fallen leaf

 

found asleep beside the weariness of spring

your mother when she was young

yet changed

 

a man breaks down

who was it you ask, what

was the weight of the stone

 

keeper of the solitary soul

permit me space

among the flocks of this earth

 

on a day without sound

adrift on a lake

my grave is unhurried

 

my hands cry out all night in their sleep

dawn rises

a hole in its palm

 

grasses

grow over my roof

a message drifts through the sky

 

do you know stones go blind when you kiss their eyes

 

who can ferry the sea out of its fog

 

lord, why do i grow cold trying to keep you alive

am i a petal waiting

for the sun’s eye to open

 

or the sky who’s chased

a small bird into breath

 

when did i learn that blue

is the planet of our death

 

can i say i love you

when there's no shore in sight

when mystery only mystery

may be all that survives

 

they feed the dead a cold sun :: we in the black beret

 

when you grow up i will have been so many years risen from the dead

 

why has the statue missing one hand :: chosen this morning to speak

 

when the moon is ripe :: why doesn't it fall from its tree

 

all night long knowing and not knowing the figure asleep on the shore

 

i showed her where i fell home :: she showed me the scar she left on the sky

 

every first sunrise preserves my belief :: a deeper, older fire

 

white coffin

now the waters are freed of ice

            and the four directions repair the wind

and the fields rise up to heaven....

 

for love of the ocean floor :: eyes turn to the open sea

 

who plays the flute that shapes my bones

 

if i am not certain

of the love of the earth

is it safe to take my life from your hands

 

the compass turns to a lone, dry wasp

in the silence of the alarms

all voices burn

 

what is thirst will find its way

when no one is looking

modest beatings

 

beneath a sky that may or may not answer

i bring out my heart

i begin to read

 

beneath my hands the axe splits open

on which side of death

is rest

 

because there was this inside them

the tea cup cracked

the face ceased

 

when they are the last

and left behind

what will the living waters speak