so i was wondering

sometimes it seems like the fabric of life
is transparent, and so is my wonderment during
the autumn equinox shadow of winter precluding
the isolative dream which resembles hibernation
as well as rest, I like the bear lay dreaming
I like the raven, crazily riding the wind
i like the fox who leaves pawprints
in winters first enduring snow

queston:

can it be that we are not what we think we are?

equinox

vernal equinox and autumns slumber
such resident silence as pervades the icing
water there are loves requited like the chill
that kills both the living, and also awakens the dead

proverbial sadness, the tastes indulged,
the salt water
pearls with a froth of sky,
the
world is reflected in the tear like dew
staring out the palm of the yellow leaf

I return to the forest of my life
the wildernesss of soul that promises
wearily to reveal herself
as fate,like a constellation, Ursa major, the soulstice
of the soul, the season of new ponderings, new
wanderings and the drop of dew
turns tice, there is a diamond in the eye
beneath a searing red aurora, all is jaded,
green and black, the eyes of a cat
framing the reality which surrounds you,

the coccoon of the seasons, the insulation
that enables you to live in the arctic, allows you to love
without losing
your eternal soul, frozen
in the bottom of the river
unknown to the sun

the breath of god is the breath of man

everyday dirvish

measure by measure
we dance a nimble step
weaving a fleshy tapestry
birthed in a strange choreography
transformed in trance

adagia: wallace stevens

all poetry is experimental....
a poem is a meteor....

After one has abandoned a belief in god
poetry is that essence that takes it's place
as life's redemption.

from "opus posthumous"

notebook:january

Each pebble touches every other pebble
Touches every other thing in the universe

This glass is already broken

This heart
This glass
This life

The river will reverse its flow
Until the mountain explodes with ocean

These tears will overfill the glass
Until each thing returns
To it's original state

Broken
Unbroken
Broke

pre-equinox blues and euphoria

smoke and fog
still fill the valley

red fox haunted
by dreams of fire

first frost has kissed
the yellowing leaves

there is still more
work to be
done


. . . . . . . . . . .