Poemtrees

Wave break.
Break on the sand right there where I point my finger.

Longer than a peice of string that Archimedes used to measure the earth.
Longer than the nose that causes laughter in the movies.

Cloud crack.
Crack.
Mirror ripples in the distance.
I know only three things. I break even on Tuesdays and Saturdays.

Mildly confused.
Fractured, melted, recollected.

~

Drink.
Lift that cup to lip,
Drinking from tipped, sipped.

Ride far in arc of sun,
untie the soul and let it run.

Mirror. Sharpened Eye.
Take aim and loose arrow through the sway of his path.
To dusk
and twilight.

River flowing, syrup and haze is cast
on drenching dew.

Pull draught to parched tongue.
Cupped hands in mountain stream.
Emerald jade and crisp,
so delightful to cleanse the soul again.

Stand up and creaking boughs
bones to arc in familiar shapes
so rough against the stars.
Muffled blue,
cricket hopping, chirping, stopping.
Silence and liquid frost creaping.

~

Here's one I'm particularly jazzed about!

~

I make people from air.
I make people from water.
I make water from parts of bugs and holes that have collected ovet the years in my closets.

I make avenues with rain.
Bend hammers, liquid such that into each other completing circles with rivulets of vapour and steam.
I make magic and people gaze into it.

Look at plate glass.
Look at liars.
Look at policemen.
Look at dreams.

Draw together lives and music of flutes.
Draw together mothers and children and people who are walking but have no place to sleep.

Draw together moonlight and faint odours of home caught on foreign breezes.

Cry on the sidewalk.
Make little rivers.

I make seismic revolutions - waves breaking on distant shores.
I make candy for children with hair on only one half of their body.
I make light, the atmosphere, droplets suspended until you wake up damp and cold in your old plastic pup tent on the corner of 5th and main on the Saturday after next.

I make a person out of words,
A dream out of rivers,
tick tock sunrise out of meat and ravioli.

I can count to numbers higher than you could imagine.

~

Make me.
Take THAT brick,
dense crimson clay.

Take THAT rock,
granite pumice basalt.
wise-ass.

Bring to skin.
Break, bite, bend.

Don't hold back.
If you think I'll soothe you anymore, you've been fooled.

There is so salve for a wound of this nature.
Let's chew on each other's faces.
Noses.

Grow long claws and eyes for poking.
Then I will finally sleep well at night.

~

HEY HEY! (Russian Dance)

~

We are the mirage people.
Propelled in wafting states of mind

The sands that stretch to distant azimuth.
The blare-white sun.
A breath on tent flap.
A rattle, shake and stirring wake of dune.
A sky so lost... depth is no factor here.

Walk onwards,
one after other,
walk onwards,
timing seconds, but never knowing which could be the last.

Crumple.
Broken people are this earth.
Recycled, recomposed, and relieved.
Alight to the sands, sons!
Arise and rejoice, daughters!
We are the wind's people,
the borrowers of light!
The mind is no toy of our hands,
we live for every drop from the water skin,
every dew-fire gem of the morning.

~

YUP. that about says it.