she twirled through the mists
dancing
to far away music
that she barely
could hear
the ground
was uneven
slippery
slanted
she swung out her hands
to prevent her
fall
and she awoke
in her bed
in a tumble of sheets
blinking
panting
slighting
sweating
another
disturbed dream
she stares
at nothing
nothing
to see
in the darkness
nothing
to feel
in the darkness
no comfort
to be found
in the darkness
again
she tries to sleep
maybe
this time
dreamlessly
Dear God
for once
let it be
dreamlessly…
copyright 10/25/2010 catherine anne hayes
Category: Penman Lounge
In This Season
Night and there is
rain in the background
hitting all the surfaces
available out of view
an invisible gamelan orchestra
of no one there
playing a song
we cannot follow to
a non-end
Machinery sporadically strums
a counter rhythm waiting
its turn, biding time
with no purpose to propose
The emptying out of all desires,
& all of day’s tasks put aside,
all love’s drama, ephemeral pauses
on the road to where we go alone
means the child and his toys
have turned to stone
When the fog abates,
euphoria is best outgrown
nothing here
look/hear
before it disappears:
the sump pump dumps
& overflows
the sharp edged wind
slams ’round
like a spoiled child
in an enclosed room
light sparkles off
the shaking leaves
as we leave
observing for work
routine put away
seeing
the attention to detail,
say, in Robert Ryman’s
white canvases and the slowing
down it requires
of you
Love & Chaos, Canto I
How can the sun shine so, and freeze us still?
In my body there’s an unearthly chill
& I think of a woman
and wonder why gargantuan love
must dwell alone…
Why the pink-bloomed tree is never touched once
by hands alike, & then I think
each cloud,
each tree,
each soul must go on alone,
drop leaves or rain or words as its destiny;
& there are children hungry, crying, abandoned somwhere,
& there is unique beauty stifled once again,
& there is ignorance & unfettered chaos reigning supreme
In the broken deserts of faith, and in the “powerful” minds.
And there are starry storms whose planets I would someday know,
When this darkness is conquered, & there is perfect love
I go to where she smiles & touches my cheek & I kiss her hand
& she makes her love and mine one.
But garish symphony aplomb yielding, carrying me aways
across desert streams & years & robust mountains
painting masterpieces of godlust colorsent telegraphs to the
supremely aware…
Where she of the mountains and glades ate trees & colored
the skies & bathed in hidden streams rippling with cosmiclight
and fountaining the waterways; for her, love was an earthly
consummation of fiery flesh, swarming in the alive cosmos
w/ passions Titanic, swollen by supernovae, saying
Staruvpoem! Speak! Here are your jewels, for Eternity to reap!
Of their alchemized sorrow say, she of the snowy cities
(lusting for love & pleasure & warm nights)
Drinking the wines of Old Bohemia, filling her veins
with their blood–enough for a cosmopolitan brood–
where not often enough the sun-dappled brooks run
Underneath a shining arm of the galaxy,
here, where she may smile…
Astral crossings of the dynastic wise,
when will my silvery soul meet your eyes?
In love & chaos evermore do we ride, or is there a reprieve
this time? Colloquial bane of disintegrated unions, who calls
love out, here is Nature’s lone call and fearsome night! Let us grant
Ourselves the soulful revolt that gains the needed epochal quarry!
Cosmic appendage of love-ghosts making us aware,
Teach us to disbelieve and re-learn in these Dark Ages again;
& we will share such stories as to make the planets sing!
The Music of the Spheres all we hear, at last to remake love.
I’ll press this flower in a book for her
I’ll pour some tea and set a place for her
And think well of her, even though she may
Not think the same. Pink blooms on the tree,
even in winter & all this lifeshine in the chill
i wear in the blue-canopied air,
chopped by a shrill engine.
I press this dying bloom in a favorite book for her, for the aeons,
For love entire filling up time; this bloom I enfold is talisman to
rooted beings & feathered ones, & lonely lusting, haunted ones
As well! I stroke the lovestrings, where in this time, this life, this hour,
I’m more enamored of existence than ever.
Part of the Story
Making lists
at night to close
the eyes and mind
Street light seems
to blind as
the shades move
in the bind between
Dreams flows
the islands
I will never “see”
to unpack
the list sublime
& at last to
consume this desired,
fading, rapturous time
Within the Forest are the Trees
Everything that is not
gist could be
clutter or
the forest
with the distant
sleigh weaving
a message.
The saxophonist solos
running scales,
changes that reflect,
play on the melody.
It is all relevant.
A complete atmosphere
of meaning
fills the scene.
All supports
what all
you perceive.
Change
Things that bring
Dusk
Dust motes
Collections
Unmade thoughts
Harbingers of stasis
Rolling over tables
In compact stillness
Gather the unseen
Data that compose
Life
Moving
Self-edited incomplete
Just out of grasp.
Sugary Prague
O Sugary Prague draped in its gentle snowfall –
Hides love but calls it out as well,
As the church spires still reach for heaven,
Finding dark chill, still echoing her defenestrations
and Kafka-gloom, but Sugary Prague finally falls,
And pillows our hardy feet, searching for love
amongst the cold stones & hot hearts & graffiti.
O Sugary Prague uneaten eats loneliness,
its Cosmic Clock ticking out civilization in the Square, where
sugary women split the darkness with bright green eyes
& find feasts & friends in the medieval town far freer than
the “world beacon” is; & where contented love looms
in this beauty’s future, her labors not lost,
her soul in sugar tossed.
Death
I wrote this while sitting in Funeral Parlor at a Wake…
Death
When I die I know you will
Cry for Me. Cry Tears of Joy
Now that My Soul is Finally Free.
Think of fields of green and sky of blue
And the Love I Shared with You.
While You’re left on Earth
I will Watch Over Thee.
My Spirit is Home where we all
Shall be. Our Real Father Protective
He Is Always Loving of You and Me.
So when You think of Me, Wear
A Smile, Knowing We All have
To walk that Final Mile.
One Day soon, We will meet again
Maybe even Remember Our Days
On Earth and Thoughts of
Wanting to be Free.
Come along and join Me
Home in Heaven with Our
Spirits’ Soul, Flying Free.
Living, Loving All Peaceably.
Peter John Frady
08:26:03
Words Are Mere Shadows of Thought
Sensing purpose, you propose:
Totality always overflows the edges.
The storm reaches farther than thought
Possible, lapping the inscrutable.
Casting off with no directions
Courts sensuality is irrefutable.
Other than that
Hold the thought up to the light
Breath the description,
Hear the events, sing their song
With all your might.