Be My Buddah

above the fireflies and mosquitos
walking like a one man army
time can paint the best of me
i see you under the midnight
with morning in your eyes
all your wounds rendered in gold
come with me and we'll make many storms
tying words together that draw a line from your lips
narrow shoulders and broad hips
I carry with me my own worship

An Open Sky

silk unsifted stronger than spider thread
sand for each grain a thought
All my good ladies were there oblivious to the eyes upon them
She looked like a poetess from another world
her hair like the night sky without stars
combed carefully, shining in the light of day
sweet and lilting for the life that she holds
distant voices cry
stars and twilight
a swell of air from the open sky
greased by chillies in fat and a soup of kindred spirits
touching is easy
loving is gentle
caring abounds with the twilight that falls early on winter days

A Mild Summer

wildflowers are nature brought to the lovely lap of a lady
glory has a radical face with artificial fruit
and a burn sung reading it's way to the sky
lilting breezes from a mild summer to bare on the streets
as soon as the storm is over hold onto my hand
it will meet us like a dream
The ocean is singing of the fire that shines in your eyes

Untitled #3

The promised land
Falling through your hands
Undone in sorrow

Restless in the wildest way
Cursed with a thousand stories
Streams refill their beds

May you always find an open hand
In the land of milk and honey

May you be taken by the wind
With one night to speed up the truth
And call for hands from above, to lean on

The melody that rises and falls without you
Dances scarlet in the streets
You gave up your shovel to dig with a spoon

Don't grow older just finding your way
With a fist full of wishes
And a hand full of hopes

Sojourn

turning the lights to a shivering down
the heat of growing cotton
telling of the trials of farming in maximum exposure
laughing at the details of his current novel
so voluptuous...

she used to teach you know, college level too
barely finished high school and she ended up teaching, funny thing that
wondering at the task of home spinning
the harvesting is such a trial
not fit for man or beast the suffering is that great

one hand over the other crossing and resting at the same time
from a position of power to where power rests
the symptoms captured in his mother's memory
she was as strong as any man on the farm
she would eat as much, and work just as hard