i roam the earth with passion.
i have no home.
i carry the voices
of hunger and need.
are you then the rain?
falling on the good and the evil.
giving without asking,
touching deep without guilt.
dialogue, and encounter,
we rock the darkness.
leaving the trace of our madness,
in branches blown asunder…
and small puddles of water,
in the cracks in the pavement…
that children will wake to,
and leap over with awe!
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the thief in the alley
waiting for the lightsto go out…his lights went out a long time ago,or, maybe yesterday…no job, his family gone,no reason to be a man…anymore…the lights go out,he steps from the shadowswith a handful of pipe,smashing the skull ofunidentified footsteps…takes the money bag and runs…to the rush and the deadnessthat lets him forget!
darkness and light,
souls on the altar,wings on the ground.death and desire,naked and hungry.prayers spoken by eyes,tears shed by hands.Abraxas, broken windows,both sun and the night.murder and compassion,theft and sacrifice.clocks stopped by fire,graves opened left bare.snowfall in august,bare trees mourn in wait.and the voices, still the voices,faces wearing names.hands desperate grasping,footprints left in the wind!
you search for God
kneeling before tofu altarsof your own conveniencebut what you search forhas never been lost!cant be defined by rhetoric’s shape,cant be contained by names, sects, or creeds…& cant be bought with plastic card faith…what you search foris the spaceinside the shellthe place where the soundof the oceanabides in stillnessyou are that shell!what you search foris already…
from a tiny acorn,
what a man cant find,a child will know.only the heartknows the secretof where the wind blows…and that’s enough for me.from drops of water,the clouds are formed.that go together,to make the storm.from the thunderand the lightning,the rainbow is born….and that’s enough for me.the feeling that i have for youis the simple song i sing.your mind may…
with hard eyes that cut like ice,and bled tears soft and deep…..smoked too much,liked a drink after dinner;tossed in sleepless rhymesof faces he couldnt name…colors drained to black and white,throbbing in his hands…carving the whispers of demonsand angels deep into the flesh,pulling infinity from human misfortune….possessed by a lovefor the beaten and downtrodden,carrying buckets of…
he was an old man then…
as an ox…a carpenter…and i was his helper;building interstate bridgesin the south,walking i-beams,60 foot off the ground…2.50 an hour!we used to goto his houseafter work…he’d scramble a dozeneggs, or so…and break out the sugarhead.we’d spend hourslistening to him talkabout women, fighting,loving, and just life!carrying a sheet of plywoodon a windy day…i wavered, one foot off…