The Birds know How to be Brave


Screen Shot 04-10-15 at 07.37 PM

Return of the Canvasser of Birds

Though its song evokes joy
The birds of spring are not so different
Than us, they need new life
Welcome change, cherry blossoms
They insinuate what we already know

The waxing of Moons led to this

Where the stories swell over
Brimming with what
Survives the storms
And follows you home
To the fire, where you are safe
A bird’s song washes away

The bad memories, like rain
In April, the distance of dividing
Your golden moments into a person
For a silver care to serve that person
Each time you fall in love, you leave
A bit of your dreamy youth behind
And the song of birds evokes

The oracle’s voice, the prophet-time
The bud in you that refuses to
Bloom ever as fully as you know
You are capable, happiness is relative

We share a table at spring with visitors
Visitors that we have been waiting for
As if all winter, our cycles admire us

They visited our ancestors
And have returned to kiss us gently.

When I pass thy door at night poetry


34

——————————————————–

In the strange destiny of men
I must confess to be lost
Or having gone astray
To have gained little in action

————————————————————–
Accomplished little with art
But loved the silver songs
Of guess and soul’s weight
With human flight, I have loved

——————————————————-
Gone wrong, chided, sworn
What a lover Sappho was
In my merry mind, the indignity
Of poverty, the distance of loneliness

————————————————————
I lived lazy hours and soft summers
With little to show, strange and far
Until my heart stopped for
Wild, keen, tender trembling

—————————————————————–
Making magic music in the dark
The life of a poet, that was my lover
In the blue foothills of faint and dimming dreams.

Paradox of Thought


58

I aspire to silence the voices
That I may speak for all voices
The function of a room is
To keep the body well

The function of a mind is
To keep the soul serene
I will never hear the one true voice
But in the Tao I find ultimate empathy

And I give it to all creatures here
And in silence I feel the snowflakes
The clouds, the trees, the light
In a whole new way against

The night, alive in the day
I become like the breeze
That rustles the leaves
And by disappearing to myself

I have room to identify with everything
That is the function of silence
My friend, we’ve thought of how
The poet spoke the thoughts

Of history, well as a finger points
To the stars, the mind dreams
In silence, language finds God.