Awakening in progress

Soul shake
suddenly I'm awake
after never really knowing.
An eternity of days.
This feeling electrifies
until the trees are all on fire,
pink sky glowing
in my eyes.

I can sense the change.
My body rocks and breaks and
I am built up again.

Your hand parts the clouds and rests
softly on my rising chest.
Fingers spread, my pupils round to daylight.
They drink in truth in tones of green
and blue and white.
Golden rays through gently parted morning blinds
your soft skin on mine.

And your words
make me shiver,
your warm breath on my neck
whispering lines to songs still
only half-written.

And in my mind I make wishes
on feathered seeds floating on the wind.
I send them off
with prayers that I don't yet dare speak aloud.

The wind tumbles over orchard branches that
whisper and sigh
into my burning ears
promises of a life untethered and pure.

I see the world and myself as one reflected in the garden of your eyes.

Three in the country

Spring sounds across the fields
and sunlit patches of ancient mountain ridge
in humming drones
and trilling, twittering harmonies.

Wood slats creek under urban feet
suddenly so distant
from daily cares; chores
and burdens,
bound up and thrown out the window
to bounce along the highway as metallic blurs buzzed by
at breakneck speeds.

We, murmured to stereo sounds
and speculated about life
and love. Thoughts
lingered on moments.
And the road, turned to gravel, wound
under canopies of freshly budded branches.
The shadow and sun danced
across our windshield,
afternoon distractions that we welcomed.

And here.
Here, the air passes through hair and over
skin, too pale from winter days.

Green silence is
broken
as evening creeps
over the tree-lined peaks and songs
celebrating the ecstasy of nothing in particular
sound from the breasts of one hundred
birds.

Sitting in reverent silence at our table,
as coals smolder at our side,
each of us knows instinctively
that we all share the same thought:
how did it take us so long to be here?

Far off cars
smoke stack blackened skies
silently betray slithering lies
and falsified facts
glinting knife in the back
reflecting, collecting
retracing my tracks

send
send it all into the atmosphere
and save the rest for your repast

in shallow attic walls
rack my brains to find and bind
images and memories
slowly slowly fading back
backwards wallow withering fields
flowing into one weathered heap
i look down to spy
cracked and sacred April skies
reflected in meandering puddles
muddled mens' faces floating remote
away away from here

Titillations of jabber and junk

Find the fabled pen on the mountain
frightening in its fine features
sheer height
shaping night
show me something
shaded in the sinister tress sleeping
underneath the earth
a hearth of artful words
and humble behaviour
not really who you are
at heart
a whole in part
fleeting falling filtered thoughts
place your pots on the shelf
filled with figures from forgotten nothings
the ringing in my ears
deafens the dias shining in the seaweed sun
trying to fly above and around
learning to lie in the hardened ground
you slowly laugh
lyrical lark
i've lost the mark that once seemed clear

Futile Attraction

I just took a day to write out a very heartfelt post and now it's ALL gone. Fuck you, Blogger.

Sur le pont d'Avignon

My accordion solo soon to come.

Hold everything.

At least until I can figure my life out.

Wait, you mean things don't work that way? Shit.

Sooo. Leave everything and move somewhere remote and more...prone to nature rather than the superficial. Sure. that could work. If I didn't have an underlying need for people who I actually trust and feel close to. People like that don't just land on my doorstep. It takes time to develop real friendships. Even NOW I still don't feel completely trusting around people I call my "friends."

Life works out. It just does.
Some people really believe that. Ok. But are those the people who resign themselves to a less than satisfactory existence due to the fact that they've flopped into some situation and have decided that it's good enough for them? Wait, that sounds a little too close to my own life right now.
Ok, so then maybe those people are those other ones--the ones who up and set sail on a whim. Relationships? You can make new ones. Money? It'll find its way into you pocket eventually. Until then there's waiting tables and eating--god forbid, ramen. Do people even do that anymore, or is it simply a cliche that's been used to a fictional state?

Shit. All my questions sound ridiculously shallow when I write them out.

Love, attraction. Living quarters. Money. Career (?) -- Ha, that last one is laughable. Is there anything really real? Really worth working for? Or does it all just end up being two choices:
Choice 1: End up alone, having worked passiontely for a cause or having excelled at some skill/talent like the theater or writing best-selling novels that leave others questioning their own lives...or music. Do musicians ever end up being succesful AND happy? But seriously, then end result here is be great at something and work hard and be alone as a reward for having dedicated your life to the pursuit of an ideal and the larger creative mindcollective in the universe.

Ok, or choice 2: kids. deadbeat mindless job to pay the bills. macaroni and cheese, Ocean City weekend vacations, TV show evenings.

I think there was a point in my life where I felt like a had a grasp on some direction. And then all of a sudden I'm standing here in the middle of a rain-soaked road in the middle of the night, and time and age and all of its two ton momentum is staring me down with the brights on.