Freedom in submission, in
emptiness, in pain,
in dreams lingering along late
winter bare branches,
in what continues, what insists,
berries sharp as laughter, solitary
walks soft & musical.
Freedom in submission to a crumbling
god, a diminishing threat, what
endures is your scent, what scratches
you possess me.
Freedom in submission, in confession,
in nature's hard press against one's
heart. Something loves us to love
each other. Something touches your
cheek with my hand. Something
licks in my ear with your smile.
Freedom in submission, in the pyre,
in what remains.
Freedom in our two hands reaching,
tonight, to release & keep each other's hearts.
******
xx. Sigh
No way out but through. Secrets, truths,
light coiled in every treebranch. I look
around for you, walk through your
sugar, dream you in soft & in metal.
Squeeze the branches, flick their protection
toward you. Love. Raw. No way out but through.
Every leaf & bloom advise me await.
Listen between the pangs, among the
beats. Practice calm for the nearing
pilgrimage. Bring water, paper, a wing
of memories. Bring candles & nocturnes
to burn. Moan & let go. Await.
Heady songs spelled out in stars tonight.
Thoughts of roads twisting through silence,
cornfields, mountains. Home left behind,
home approaching in the morning. Do you
feel it? Our nearing touch? The trees
shimmering approval? Time roused, slowing?
The earth within presses me, seed & soil,
& the flash, & the unfold, life wetly
lashing forth, groan & pleasure, what
preacher & king try to contain & play.
Nothing going on but the war &
the television. Something. Everything.
What love flickers & licks between us
a sigh, still burgeoning. Seed & soil,
await, then hurry. Sanity perhaps to be
found on a harbor bench, a smoky confession,
needs released, no way out but through.
Love uncoiled, no way out but through.
Moan & let go. Await. One approaching
wave will carry more than a sigh.
Something built, four hands & a lengthy
beast of days, approaches, is approached.
What will remain more than sand,
more than soil. New bones. Music. Roaring blood.
******
xxi. Emptiness.
There is no schism. Thus the night erupts & falls back.
The emptiness adorns blood fat with love.
The bond erupts & holds.
The sky is what talks back by star & storm.
The trees leaf with spring songs.
Love traces an arc through emptiness.
Something shakes. You turn in your sleep. Again.
******
xxii. Longing.
Saying sacred makes it so. A wind nods,
a woman laughs. Power shapes by cruiser as
by water. Guts grab for guts. Counting angels
leads to tears. Something in the night tries
to hurry along in forgettful packs. But listen nearer.
A heart full of secrets groans, steadies, pushes on.
******
xxiii. Demons.
What is hollow hurts the most.
What no one can touch in you I moan.
What fugitive words you ride to me tonight.
Half moon in the sky. Added, we round to
one. City streets crawling with noise. Yes,
added, we sum to one.