Sometimes your eyes have a strange phosphorous glow.
Sometimes quiet... sort of shy. Walking in the night- shadows collect in invisible union.
Sleep dream child the ghosts are gone.
I see what you mean now when you said, “Silence is the gift of the gods.”
Seems you were right-
Peace be with you. Lifting my head with each breath of the zephyr I feel you.
Sing to me mother that breezy song
Winding away from the hill, that dirty old road and beat-up fence lick the passing air. They approach my foot and ignore me-slithering on to more important things. Like disrobed masts towering over fleets of buried ships,
The posts sail on forever.
Legions of cattle must have blazed across here
And pounded the vegetation back into the Earth
Now the naked dirt is caressed by bare feet
And tickled with my goofy toes.
Frozen in the sky I see the herd....Driving across the horizon.
Deep below their vaporous hooves, the ground is calm and forgivingLike a grandfather nearly toppled by the loving arms of a child. Tiny hairs on my arms rise as if they were saluting an invisible stranger. Dry air and dust flood my mouth like a drowning desert pirate ... I have been here before.
Strong men with picks and axes tear into the heart of the landWith arms like rippled pillars making pyramids of pillaged soil.
The sweat from their ambition a fountain; Baptizing and bathing the surfaced mango seeds like accidental children.
Skiing beads of perspiration gliding down their foreheads into unsuspecting eyes
To be cried out later onto the slopes of lollipop cheeks in newer times.
Tools are laid down instantly
As if dozens of hands forgot how to gripEverything except food and water.
Around the stew pot A circle is formed then misshapen
When exhausted legs buckle Sliding into recline Staring into the fire
Breathing with its orange thrust and decline Visions of tomorrow’s eternity-today’s grace,
Swimming through the mirrored eyes of the resting cook
On top of the hill in the distance,
Night blessing him with the holy gaze
Of a dome full angels propped in the sky,
Silver shimmering eyes beam pale love to every inch of him
As Speechless and quiet as the statues of saints Suspended in marble silence
As he, imagining the hill might look like a breast from above,
Walked naked across its flesh.
One foot passing the other in the ancient rhythm of creation,
Darkness hugging him like a fertile milk mother with worlds of children born.
From infinite experience knowing the perfect way to caress and cradle him.
Her slow touch reassuring that everything is good
With paused feet nailed to the earth’s cleavage
A breath of wind sends him into ecstasy, seizing his life like a hurried savior.
Arms lifted and head leaned back in the suffering Christ position.
Silence, born beneath a paralyzed tongue
Sings hymns of joy and peace composed in his closed mouth
Drilling away from him in all directions like a spreading blanket
Swallowing the world
Racing away from the hill
Across the creaking swings of the nearby schoolInto the busy streets of
America Where a dribbling child
Dropped his blue and white basketballLetting it bounce and quiver into silence
Abandoned As mother stepped out of the house onto the lawn
To join arms with Daddy by the car.Who all looked up to the blooming red sky
Wearing sliding
Shivering pearl tears
And a forgotten memory
Dug from the soulSuddenly remembered.This is how it should be.
