The Laughing Sky

Grifas

IV. The Sound of Sown Diamonds

Hybrid Nut Trees

Two acorns
two shoes
two paths to choose

Two brilliants
two eyes
two moons in the sky

Two pillars
two trees
two kings if you please

Two hours
two days
two tenders to pay

The Night That Fell

I look at water,
I see the dream of all that is liquid
in this dying world;
all that's chased to it sanctimonious closing
is pulling its way home
like the drawn tides.

All the images that have fallen
down stairs, only to be lifted,
placed back on the walls, are finding
their place is not behind the sun
but beyond the moon;
beyond the dream.

Down the road going nowhere
in a land of forests
where animals are untied
and the thought that feeds the world
is too sacred to just say,
so is whispered like the night falls
to all the flowers kept at bay.

This is a forest of illusion
held visioned in mirrors
in the hands of the faces that have painted
Time, the dimension of the One;
the true holiness, the untouched wedding
of truth to virtue,
promises to lies--
the combination of the elements
that forms the black rock of infinity,
the destiny of the ages at last realized
and captured by the mind
to give us--
to give it--
a true sense of freedom.

The flowers sing the song
whispered to them by the night that fell;
is falling
still.

Like a River or a Wild Rose

Does it seem like reason to smile
at the sky folded open over us
like a wet blanket
with so many stars I cannot possibly touch
them all, but I may
as well try?

Can I believe all that goes on
beneath us as it winds
down the course to the evergreen
remnants of yesterday pott-marked
like the frigid road of state route fifty west?

To betray
the dashing blandness of all those
dying voices that drift in and drift
out, beckoning me to stay--
the way I am is in no need of restraint,
just a greater place to spread my wings;
admit my friends, slowly, as they call
out their names and the truth
of their destinies.

I don't want to ruin anything,
I just want a few Doors opened:
Nothing to do
in a solid state of boredom that sweats
more in the morning, laughing
all the while asking how
a leader leads without leading.

(Whisper the soft echoes;
join the plaintive chorus
of ruined mercy.)

Once I thought I was done,
but I awoke and someone whispered
closely: Are you ready to die?
I knew that I was not.

Not a lonely scrap of wisdom
nor all the rage of a thousand ages
can prepare you for this:
The petal burst open
and She loved me!
But I can't freeze all the days
or test Time like a river--

Like a river or a wild rose,
I'm not sure,
but I'd like to find out before
I die.

Cross of Stone

I hurt for everyone else.
My mind twists into shapes distorted
by the view through the rain.

I am pulled again,
sliding easily down a wet panel of glass,
my fingers dragging along, squeaking,
leaving trails of water behind
my nails that beg for purchase.

Yet they can never be
long enough.

I whisper to the words calling back
soft voices, echoing around me
in the darkest lanes,
until I find myself
crumpled against the cobblestones
like a used cigarette,
my tip still a glowing ember
preparing to snuff itself out.

I remember the hurried footsteps,
gaze up at the sky as it calls my name,
and the rain pushes against my lids,
forcing them to close.

Slowly I stand and descend,
falling further back out of Time,
out of all the repeated memories and haunted dreams;
out of all the burnt remains I once called by name;
out of everything I ever knew
but now I alone demand.

I stand still and ask my closed eyes
if there is anything
to see
while the winds twirl around me.

I have made my cross of stone
so it would not wither
nor fade nor fall apart.

The surface is cold.
I stretch out my arms and wait.

Over an Ageless Yesterday

And the moisture fades;
my brow softens as my shoes
turn for home.

I have forgotten the sound
of the delicate footsteps
which carried me here in the first place:
Through the saplings and the vines,
over rough bridges and trees,
through leaves silently rustling
in the shimmer of a moonless night.

I pull my hat down over my heart and wait,
watching for the sun to slowly rise and glimmer
beneath the tears on my face.

I. Canaan