THE SLEEPERS

There is no map of trees Just as
There is no History of lifetimes
We are ‘free’ to experience here
The French window ajar
Another restless rainy day!
Let the silver dew rise
Let the white mists roll
Let them say what they will –
There is no height like Eyes
No soulfulness like, pure kindness
We are sleepers some of us
Should we forget to sleep through
The years, of mornings and afternoons
There is no replay button, no reset
Only the silence after dreaming.

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To All Good Nights

Good night, because we must
Say how to elude strife is to sleep
Father! They won’t tell me
What the light knows

That I shall never know –
Good night, I fumble at my spirit
As players at the chords & keys
Before they drop full of music

Before the end of poetry
Good night, prepare your possessions
You will not need them beyond here
Father! They won’t tell me

Why your breath is so timid today
What the light knows
That we shall never know –
Good night, we are dealing

With Imperial thunderbolts
With a fate that scalps my naked soul
The stars above my head
And my feet pointed to the sea

Good night, because we must
Not know what to do next
Father! In our hour of doom
All evenings steal our purple flight

Reasons profound and Daffodils
Good night – merit and fear qualifies
Humanity, to my beloved need
That never met a more sufficient proof
Than saying good night,
With but itself to rest upon.

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Felicity of Doom

Death and conscience, O’ she –
Will easily classify achievement
Achievement being a forgetful thing

Dare you saw a few souls
Deep straight down, a white heat
Of harmony at the best & worst of times?

Then crouch within the door
Of possibility, and listen for –
The metaphysics of vanished others

Who mysteriously appear and suddenly
Take leave, we quiver at the forge
Of the social fire’s flame, that unanointed Blaze

Where we marry others for a moment in words
And sacrifice a bit of ourselves, to please
Death and conscience, O’ she will –

Easily disseminate our mutualities
Love being the most memorable things
It is not a question of who or stability

But how much did we give & love
On what Anvil did we place our heart
That celestial soundless tugged-of-within.

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