Nathan's Way

He is buried

among the waves

that know the rhythm

of the song he sang

In morning's sun salutations

permanent melancholia

breathes his chant

while nightfall starlight

shines his pathway

followed home

tides delivering

him there

then

returning his spirit

to these black rock shores

to rest (again)

Declaration

I repeat your words
quietly
after we say goodbye

the receiver still
warm in my hand

My voice wavers
meek
it cannot get through

"You can have it
if you want,
if you want it, it's yours

You can have it
if you want
I don't listen
to music

Anymore."

Twinkle End Toil

There are so many places where I have touched down on the web that I wonder if I can recall all of them. Does it matter? Not really, but I am curious and thoughtful. I just...wonder.

I have sown seeds of my then thoughts, zen zots, ven vots, from the beginning. They are like bits of seven grain bread dropped, albeit not very strategically, along the path as I stroll toward....well, toward the future. Yes, that sounds progressive. Me on a Path, moving ever Forward.

Don't look back, something might be gaining on ya.

I don't much ruminate about past landscapes and the transgressions buried there. The days when I acted recklessly, plotted with less than honourable intent, revelled like an immortal fool? I have long ago apologized for them. They have been penanced.

Or the people from back in the wild now dead and gone having missed the queue leading up from the deep pits of youth. What can I do if I outlive everyone? It is destiny. Mostly, it just is. Ism in the schism biopic mism.

We are one in the spirit anyway, aren't we? No. That is fabrication. I am not One in the Spirit with a killer, for example. Alright, I killed a robin once. By mistake! He should have flown away. Birds always fly away! But not him. I hit him with a Ford Econoline on Richmond Road. I stopped and picked him up and it was truly horrible. I apologized. And yes, I took him home and buried him.

No, the lyrics sound good as placations go, but we are not One in the Spirit. Some of us are missing key elements. I do hope those fragmented souls find the pieces they need to patch their holes. But, of course, as far as I know, in order to find, you must first at least make effort...possess desire...to seek.

Om.

So it is that I am here again, whisper dancing to the beat of the Great White Screen. What does it matter? I've no shortage of words. Just like old Jed's unexpected crick of bubbling crude, before me lies a rich supply of the Phoneme. Seemingly endless, it spills out words and words and words.

I simply catch a few and line them up, poking at them like an inquisitive child with a stick and an anthill. To see what happens.

Changes

I stepped outside to the Meditation Stone

needing a moment, a little time for pause to be alone

breathe in, breathe out, I sang to the rocks and to the wind

breathe in, breathe out, all journeys draw to an end



Inside your eyes open wide, their colour returned to blue

I drew the bell from its place, and held it close to you

while the sun began to set, your spirit alighted from its cage

going with a full moon ascending as though prearranged

Outside the birds still sung in trees while rabbits crouched in grasses

stratus cloud shift-shape sunbright sifted edges obscure glasses

And me, I weightless drifted from there to here in silence and relief

the train had come and you'd climbed aboard, another soul released

Sunday Prayer

Sunday morning

Sun is shining

Somebody's somewhere singin

Sow a seed to make it something good

Shine your light bright as it should

Show the world your better side.

Return

they have been in the fields, gathering

what remains

redistribution is sometimes necessary

no cry now

again, they will rise with voices strong

side-stepping

the weeds, the tall biting nettles

The Hover

you lie still

bedded

day linen white

immovable, stagnant

exception:

high C mournful howl

soaring shrill

fear filled anguish


hover there

between

sleep and perpetual

wakedness

some sinister judge

holds against you

hold on hold on

weightful bondage

as inescapable

as fate.