Author As the Bridge 


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Author As the Bridge

Dear writer, are you soaked in words?
Like a sea ready for the sun?
Completely transubstantiated with its inner nature
Ready to be a reflecting bridge to light?

Dear writer, have you acknowledge
The ecstasy that makes your life whole,
Walking hand in hand with honest years
With the cosmos in language

Your language, the one that stirs you
When your primary presumption
Is not simply sight, but vision
You know it quite well, the organic manifestation

Of soulful narrative, the core of
The voice of the characters you speak for
Dear writer, we are all bridges to something
Symbols of some poetic fancy

That reaches across years, pages, distances
To be directed to the storytelling
That is innate with history and identity
That we are not one person, but one people

And our experience is not simply our own
But the experience of all imagined things
All light-years of culture, species, planets.

All My Sorcery Nobody can Imprison


22

Shall I then honor and obey?
I who only heed the Autumn whispers
That my spirit might flutter and utter
Poetry who is the wife and master
Of my piercing eyes of December

Now I am filled, with happiness and quiet
I’ll hold you even dear, you passing friends
I have found my pilgrimage shelter
The gold-hammered love of words
It’s enough for me, to write a while

In encrimsoned freshening dew
For Autumn soft-wind-twisted leaves
And emotions in the freight of my heart
That abides by wild beasts, forest brothers
I take all these into my good report for keeps

And do not ask the Lord for anything
I am self-sufficient in my lonely work
And I kiss the cruelty of fate at every turn
No little thing to barter one’s life with
A little art, forsaken love of something

That brings no direct external profit
Only a sense of what the seasons serve
My Amageddon’s vast terrific hour.

23

Photo Courtesy:
1.
2. http://www.deviantart.com/art/Autumn-267769428

INTO CREATION


54

i

I heard a poem in my mind
Forceful, lyrical, weary –
The honest trial of the literary sublime

Made fertile by writing’s play
God’s desires in natural phrase
The Divine word resounded indeed

Rebuilt, refreshed, released
From the past, I heard
The future’s signature here
Inspiration’s subjective pursuit
Into timelessness, rapture’s dopamine-surge

ii

I heard a quotation in my mind
Established, reborn, renouncing –
The sublimation of everything

Making delight out of defeat
The simplest leisure of a thinking thing
To make a living from boundless pride

iii

To surrender lengthened life for
The genius of an artistic moment
The last resort, the poetic need
A chosen treasure, a soft aptitude
To praise the passing of a peaceful mood.