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apocalupsis

apocalupsis


Though the world keeps turning fast as a whip My heart slackens and wobbles; Blood trickles and sifts Tsunami recoils Quickening pulse To snap her fist. Narcissus Retiring not skulking away, at last retreat From the feathery grasses silkily sliding in aquafingers’ grasp.

Sunday, October 12, 2014

Thrice Seven'd April


Thrice seventhed april!
Thrice sacred day!

Dusty flower petals, cruel April---
hail the green grass in Aphrodite’s flickering fingers
Glory to the charging light.
All is cup of cheer
web of welcome
Jack in the Green springing!

She called me down the ancient corridors 
memory stretching back this slithering aquafinger.

Narcissus sketching the froth 
of black Lethe
on a black onyx sea. 
Stretching back and forth on the quantal spectral field
1000 times today!
Yet as his creaking silhouette passes
many more eons diaphanously hung
the greying/the ashing
where shadow trickles into oblivion
the warm cocoon
of a shapeshifter---Fishwater Musick
Fishwatermusic!

Voices streaming, singing in exalted high harmony.
My sweet memory---so present
the dappled rainbow lifting off the bubbly, salty sea!

I taste your long days
your pastel and taffy 
the hissing and humming of the everretreating surf.
Turtlescraping hallelujah!

Muse, please speak to me of the window of this future I gaze upon.
Up the mountain she flew me on craggy heaps atop mountain peaks
cymbal shimmering golden radiating water all the way to the vista.
From here, I can see Cupertino on a clear day
Extrapolations of these eyecrumbs crystallizing
into minor galaxies,
oranges and greens and green gloved pinks shimmering
the interpretation of such things if seen  would shatter you to the bone
I would better linger longer in revery walking home. 

The entire universe is a reflection of God and every bit is entirely packed
infinity in any direction you go!

“Infinity or just this clover? I cannot say”
“i prefer the clover,” she said.

Let us escape in dance and play in eternal youth,
Song drawn from long memory winding down the opal days
all of this comes together/hangs together in coherence!!

Blessed Self---champion of many worlds, universe leaper---
ineffable riddler---Greetings!
Such sweet velvet caress
purple waves heartbeating down the millennia,
juggling yesterdays, tomorrows and todays---
yet of all days I prefer this:
this sundappled, ruddy field, spiked with dandelion day!

Dandelion days mark the periphery of this maze,
this dane into the diaphanous shade
thrice seven’d april
thrice blessed day
Dandelion days wending the merry maze
dan-dell-i-on
Dan delion
da-da-dadandey line, dandey-line.

April 21, 2014

Sunsplattered


Sunsplattered, “another day closer to death (Pink Floyd).”

Not the rare but the common I seek.
And what is common?
Is the sun common?

Oh your brief days against the sun’s towering day!
From solar infancy until celestial extinction.
What darkness can exhaust its glorious day?

Or of the younger moon, what of its hide and seek day?
What? You call this exquisite and rare---
but I say, No, this is my very common day, my universal day.

Visible and invisible days
Nestled in pillowcushioned harmonies,
my soul is enlarged with your music---
towering illumined lightfields
dense, angelic fabric
woven into the abyss like Indra’s net.

Of this singular day I sing!
gazillions of time as if time were a speckled
surf retreating beach.
The glory of this day shames the mortals bent by gravity, economic debt and daily drudge.

Out of this house all you who are not born!!
So far beyond as to return within, no time outstrips me.

All of Satan’s brood gather ‘round to shoot me down
for the nth time today.
The game wearies me, flesh aching from this torment of truth and the deafening cry of reason.

Eternally waking  into this day,
its cerulean dipped clouds cannot contain me!

4-17-14

Thursday, September 25, 2014

Saturday, June 21, 2014

Poem Pulled from Crunchkin: Edit me as you like....


As gnats do multiply on brackish waters
So do worries number without her arms;

Thoughts peck into coiled gray matter
To aggravate the burden of this flesh;
I would cast its dull carcass to the ground
And learn whether spirits fly!

But dust outwits time’s debate
And as it was before shall once again be
On its cruel white watch the moon yet spins
And tugs water’s dark waves beneath me

Leaden sleep lulls my fingers down
words escape my pen
her eyes shine like shimmering stars in the blue night
and her face is fair

Edit me as you like

I shall never forget
The charmed hour before dawn
When poetry nudges her to speak.

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In Him we live, move and have our being. Acts 17:28