The Tinder of Dreams

-------The Tinder of Dreams-------

Bonfire Spring in magic land

and starlight the tinder of dreams.

We sat in a circle, 

all kin to that moment,

and raised up joy, 

like cups and glasses, to the middle

and the flames shared us whole,

edge-less and radiant.

It touched our faces.

It touched every leaf on the hill.

And when the wood ran low

we passed, by hand, a bottle of desert fire

and sang old songs to keep our inside warm.

A toast to youth

   and embers

      and nighttime.

An ode to the great, wild emptiness

we've all become again.

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More Than Just Water

-------More Than Just Water-------

More than just water fell last night,

and it touched the soul of the garden in a way

I could never with buckets and a well;

Highers rhythm,

pit-patter upon broad-leafed drums,

left a drop of heaven on the tips.

I held her closer and said nothing,

only listened, while the smell of white, wild roses

welcomed us back home.

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Like the Heron Stands

-------Like the Heron Stands-------

Stoic but pride-less

and great, blue angel wings tucked aside, 

without ambition

       like the heron stands

and the river carries on.

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Other Places

-------Other Places-------

When the old house has gone,

and the ones who brought us into 

and along through this world so far

have found their way 

to other places,

we will know 

that home 

is anywhere 

we need it 

to be.

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A Step Back

-------A Step Back-------

Lost in a moment,

it becomes the world to us.

A step back

puts it clear again;

into place 

with every other.

-------

The Fire that Splits

-------The Fire that Splits-------

Sorrow is not 

a wound to heal.

It calls on us, rather, to set it free.

Not to fear, 

but to feel

the fire that splits a hard-shelled seed.

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Baby Steps

-------Baby Steps-------

Start small,

build your kingdom with baby steps;

plant seeds by hand

and visit life in every day.

It's to youth

we look

to not forget.

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Land Trust

-------Land Trust-------

Let us some land

and we will grow for you,

for your children

and for ours.

We are the young, co-makers

of near forgotten ways.

So peace and youth be kept,

there will be trees,

fruit like weeds to gather

and flowers everywhere.

Our best depends on each other.

Y'all and us, and every other;

to make real

that rightness we feel in our middle.

Let down your guardsmen;

your fences.

For you need not 

to worry;

we give our word to do good 

with what you've been given.

Let us your trust

and we will grow with you,

with your children

and with ours.

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Plant and Sing

-------Plant and Sing-------

From solitude

erupts 

the joyful noise

of spring.

Like soul music;

like the digger inside.

Shovel-ready, we plant;

we sing.

Labors grace

is means and muse

of the artists

callused hands.

-------

Seasons

-------Seasons-------

An autumn rose 

     placed her seeds 

          upon my chest,

where Winter took them

     like memories

          into the earth,

to sprout again come Spring.

And leaves to rise 

     to shade 

          the herbs below,

when the light is right in Summer.

Fruit 

     and Fall 

          again 

the seeds;

the righteous seeds,

of a never 

     dying 

          love.

-------

One Song

-------One Song-------

As daylight faded with the freeze,

the smoke from a cigarette was in mix with her breathe, 

like fog over water,

and the wind came in all directions, to the center where I stood,

on the edge 

of the lake 

at dusk.

It only takes 

one song,

at the right moment,

to remind us 

we hold 

the Spring

already.

-------

Sugar Water

-------Sugar Water-------

Like sugar in water

the becoming 

of 

spring 

is 

slow,

sweet and persistent just enough

to see 

it 

through 

the 

snow.

-------

A Lonely Seed

-------A Lonely Seed-------

Take this anger you are feeling

like a lonely seed

and sow it among good company.

There,

the vigilance of Love

may turn it

               into

                    flowers.

-------

I Walk at Night

-------I Walk at Night-------

The Oldsmobile lumbered 

over the edge of its driveway 

like a fat caterpillar.

Before it turned, 

back-heavy and wabbly, 

down into its hole for the night,

it stood still but shaking and stared at me,

with its yellow eyes,

like I were a hungry crow.

I slowed my step 

and put out my hands 

to show the old beast I was just a boy.

I could hear its body shiver

as it considered my gesture;

to trust.

A second, 

then satisfied,

it turned over the edge 

and safely into home.

As I walked through the dim, red smoke 

behind its passing, 

I felt like I was leaving a dream.

I walk at night 

because in darkness is a world

that I cannot see in the light.

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Fermentation

-------Fermentation-------

The Pickle is cultured by its surroundings;

its flavor being a unique expression of play 

between herbs and salt, air and water, matter and ether.

The human being who is honest

takes in from the world what is right for them

and brings to life the beauty they hold already within.

It's funny to relate our condition 

to that of plants,

but it would be silly not to.

-------

Singlepenny Nails

-------Singlepenny Nails-------

Singlepenny nails, 

a mirror cracked 

and I a wounded man.

For a long time 

I have hung my world atop cheap ideas

and hopelessly wished it would hold.

For too long 

I have looked to others to tell me who I am,

and fashioned a vanity from their observations.

For too long 

I have carried a heavy-framed, broken reflection of myself;

a reflection I have built and is not me.

I have grown up, 

sought comfort in passivity and violent places,

and known the pleasures of life.

But I am 

just now, learning 

again how to live.

I want to be, 

to know 

and see myself in all things again.

I want to make love 

with more 

than just my body.

To sow seeds 

and to grow 

like the forest does.

I want to live fully in this world 

so that I may, one day, 

die at home.

Towards this 

is my work; 

my art.

It is who I am 

and who 

I will always be.

-------

From a Winter's Tale

-------From a Winter's Tale-------

The spring comes like morning does,

quietly up from the darkness of Winter's tale,

across the sheets, into our fields 

of the clover and grasses still covered in snow.

We lay down in the dawn, shivering together.

Not from cold, 

but reacquainting with that old feeling 

of the air on our skin.

Those first few moments are like childhood;

not a fear nor worry in having enough; a kind of trust within

that starts the seeds to turn themselves

and returning songbirds song by song.

The light rises

and breaks the edge of the world,

from pieces into one,

and it all begins again.

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