THE LAMP OF EXHILARATION


10

i

Spring, your grass is longer until June
I can sense Summer further than the Birds
An unobtrusive transformation
Of flowers, gradual perfection of Grace
Regardless of our minor tragedies

ii

Nature, this pensive custom of
Cycles outlasts all change
She carries enlarging loneliness
Making the youth hunt friendship
The heat beneath burning Noons
Makes us sweat for tomorrow

iii

Nature drips sunsets and drapes
The future, across a vistas of Yearning
Passion as the seed the Wizard Sun
Creatures following the mirth
Of the hand of evolution, the eyes

iv

Of the erotic energy of time
Dare I say I felt the lip of the flamingo
The wind does not require grass
But prefers it as I do, the colors
All end in green, and the wisdom
Of the light that never asks questions.

COULD I BUT RIDE INFINITY


9

i

My portion for the day
Is defeat, a taste of poverty
Paler luck I guess than Victory
Whatever that means, whatever
Will be, will be; only love keeps me going
Slower than, so many years ago

ii

I live for scraps of prayers
And napkins for an invisible muse
Nicknamed ‘soul’ by God
I’ll give up God for Eternity
For quiet hope has fewer bells
And faith must realize the self
In whatever circumstance one finds it

iii

My portion of the day
Is empathy’s brief appointment
Before everyone disappears
To follow their respective fates
An altitude of change, goodbyes, death
Never mind repose, it meets you at the door.

A SOUL WEARING SKIN


8

i

A ribbon at a time
Impermanence takes us away
From the amethysts of memory
And the singleness of personality
Repairing everywhere
Love blooms without condition
With the design of evolution’s
Enterprise, who can miss her?

ii

A Sunlit cloud at a time
The days rush with golden hours
For progress, expansion, finally to decay
An inch of the Season at a time
That quivers in purpose’s circumference
Our audience is to idleness
As a disdained sky to the sunset

iii

Of our lives, where did it go?
Where did it go, it went
To the strangest sea, to the crumbs
Of all we built, how we travelled
A soul wearing skin for a while.

NOT QUESTIONING, BUT LIVING


7

The world has her distances I cannot pursue
Across fields of summer nights
Spent alone, alone in the crowds
Lines on her face so grievous
The world is half-shamed always
In her unhurried humiliation of routines

Trapped in the roles of her fate
The world has discovered a new
Dissatisfaction, meanwhile we satire
The rhetoric of falling afternoon
We think we’ve seen it all, though maybe

The world was to us just one view of a face
A billion faces in the crowds
Exchanging nods with colleagues
Aware that nobody is watching after all
As unselfconscious as a line of trees
Duty was the last giving of our heart.