Deeper and Beyond

Deeper and deeper and well beyond
The deepest well or depths of hell,
Or burning stars that never fell,
Deeper still, but never gone;

Beyond the lives, beyond the trees
The sun and moon were placed between
And caused to rise and set,
Beyond all meaning and precepts;

Between the words, between the lips
Where the weathered copper soul sips
Upon restraint and verdigris in-
Between the bites of dust and cake;

In a minute, in each minute
The earth runs 'round itself-
'Round the sun, 'round the stars-
In hope to hold the line.

being a well

"Be a man" he said,
"bury your feelings,"-
suppression and oppression
still themes of the nation-
emotions are worthless,
lest they be pity,
and wear the face-pity wears the soul.

I haven’t cried since ninety-four-
my grandfather crossed from shore to shore
shortly after serving scripture that Sunday morn,
but I

waited for the funeral-

A seafaring vessel buried in soil,
destined to whither and rot: memories of Noah’s ark-

Since then, nothing.

Does water from the well
Flow over and past the lips?

No,
Not here.
Here its hollow and stone down to a reflection
Which refills itself after drawn on
By others.
Even the neighbors, unsuspecting as they are, are the same.

His wife, my father’s mother, lasted well
Until cancer cast its diminishing spell,

The way I hoped to go-
until she stole my dream
retribution for some earlier currency. (Payback I suppose for the money)

She talked to him near the end
Between shallow open-ended
Distant breaths,
But I already knew-

Damn ouigi

But still, I stood tall and didn’t cry
Not even a fight, though I bled inside-
Like the sky that day to save some water for another day.

Two Thoughts

Here are two recent thoughts:

The most important and lasting changes come, not from laws concerning the conduct of a nation, but in changing the way a nation goes about making its laws (this in reflection of comprehensive reform and the inability of lawmakers to create lasting change; it is not bigger government vs smaller government- those are laws) We are not a nation of laws, but rather a nation under law, leading, ultimately to absolute despotism.

Life may be a series of ever-diminishing vector paths- diminishing with respect to age- being inversely proportional to our acceptace of change itself, and directly proportional to the amount of change we are willing to endure, multiplied by the force of change. This can be an equation used to help people change, slowly but surely.

Pr=(T/Ce(1-Ca))x Fc

Pr resultant path
T age
Ce change edured
Ca change accepted
Fc force of change

I was happy to have submitted three pieces to the Louisville Review this past week. They have a 4-6 month response time, so I don't expect to hear anything soon, but will keep you updated of anything I hear. The poems were: Measure and Worth (A Steady and Slow Hand); The Blackbirds' Chore; and After The Sun Has Set. I will post the later two when I get a chance.

A steady and slow hand

A steady and slow hand knows,
Without shame or sorrow,
Its’ measure and worth
Are incense and myrrh,
Not rod or hammered gold.
And does not tomorrow hold
‘Tween its fingers,
But works on today-
For progress does not rise
Untimely or imprecise,
But sprouts and grows
As seed from a furrow
Dug well and watered.

Partials

The yellow sun settled south
To a colder degree.
The trees threw their seeds
And then waved to their leaves
As autumn burned away.


Speak to me of twilight days,
Grandfather
Share the colors of weathered lives-
The steps that glory eye.

Certainly planets, stars will end
And you’ll desire peace.
But hopes beyond heaven rain
Strife and break last.

No key has account
No step knows joy (dancing)
She slipped as notes
Found stairs
Symphony of years stopped.


I don’t need you to tell me
The world turns for money,
Even the blind man
Selling radios sees green.


Standing at the corner of darkness/ and dawn, I asked the way/ to a foreign lane, and was given the key. //
Kneeling on the edge of faith/ and fear, I turned the key to catch view of the sun/ rising free. //
Thrice it did flare and bestow upon me: wisdom, knowledge, understanding/

People will suddenly heave
On Sunday
With all they love
With all their want
And only the found
Part the very end.


Where the song echoes soft
And each laugh whispers love
I’m eternally found;
Free.

When the scenes you draw
Inside your head
Are traced inside your own two hands
Hoping you don’t let go

Tethered shadow of myself
Finally released in search
Still my call is quietly ringing-
A prayer of lovely heaven


How easy peace does guise
The quiet streets
From war’s recline;
While banners dance
The protest line

Today this house toppled

Today this house toppled
Of my own free will
Before the raging winds
Could blow;
Before the flowing river
Could wash away-
And leave it in broken despair.

Tomorrow it shall rise
With mind to deep skies
That the raging winds
Would die;
That the flowing river
Would subside-
And leave it till golden peace.